As the French army suffered heavy losses in World War I, the nation increased its terms of military conscription, with all men between the ages of eighteen and forty-five obliged to serve at least three years. Here, Marcel Proust writes to his friend and fellow writer Lucien Daudet about being examined for the draft.
Circa July, 1915
Mon cher petit,
I have been visited and revisited by some majors I didn’t know (I don’t even know their names); they did not know that Father was a doctor and that Robert is one, and each time they would say to me, “You are an architect, aren’t you?” But I was so sick that there was no doubt about the decision. It is a recommendation that is destined to become more and more cogent up to the time of my death, and I hope with all my heart you will never have it. However, it isn’t always effectual because the examinations are frequently so brief and superficial. Reynaldo was witness at the following visit.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I am a cardiac case.”
“No, you are strong enough for service in the army.”
and the sick man dropped dead of a stroke. It is quite possible that the same scene will be enacted with me. But in that case, the cause of death will certainly not be my emotion at having to go. My life in bed for the last twelve years is indeed too sad for me to regret losing it.
In going over the first proofs of Swann, which are different from the later ones, I find Françoise saying, “War isn’t fair. Only those who want to should be made to go.” A naïve sentiment (but not really so much so, since that is the English system) that would have spared us the invasion, for how many Germans want to fight a war?
Affectionately,
Marcel Proust
FURTHER READING
Find out more about Proust and war in a lecture by Joel Rich, here.
For a 1910 review of Daudet’s novel Le Prince des Cravates, click here.