
Beckett’s Papers, Foul and Fair 5
unusual insight into his work habits and offering at times overt com-
mentary on his works, and simultaneously disappointing for the oppor-
tunities missed, not only in the fact that the letters have been, for many
of us, overly selective with no stated principle of inclusion other than
what was permissible to publish, but also for the lack of literary or
critical sophistication in the annotations. In a letter of 5 January 1933,
for example, Beckett describes a Boxing Day walk ‘all about Portrane
lunatic asylum in the rain’ (150). While much documentation is pro-
vided in the notes, the connection to the story ‘Fingal’ is slight, almost an
afterthought, even as the comment of the local Beckett engaged during
the walk and quoted in the letter, ‘“That’s where Dane Swift came to his
motte”’, makes it into the story with only minor dramatic alteration; the
editors apparently fi nd little to comment on concerning the connection
between life and art. In a long paragraph note we are offered the defi ni-
tion of ‘motte’ – ‘(Ir. colloq., young woman)’ – and told that ‘Dane’ is
substandard Irish pronunciation of Dean – that is, pretty rudimentary
stuff – but little is said of Beckett’s method of folding the personal, the
everyday, into his art. Furthermore, in his letter to Charles Prentice of
14 October 1930, Beckett contemplated adding a few more pages to the
end of his Proust monograph, ‘to develop the parallel to Dostoievski
[sic] and separate Proust’s intuitivism from Bergson’s’. The annotation
of the line tells us a bit about Proust, Dostoyevsky and Bergson, but
no mention is made either of ‘intuitivism’ as a method or the fact that
this was precisely the material Beckett was about to teach at Trinity the
following autumn. Beckett reviewed these issues for his class at Trinity
College during Michaelmas 1931, where he distinguished between
‘Bergsonian conception of intelligence & intuition’; ‘B’s [Bergson, but
‘B’ might equally represent Beckett] intuition is highest intelligence—
l’intelligence personnelle’; on the other hand, ‘fonctionnement de l’esprit
[that is, function of mind] = lowest form of intelligence, mind doing
twice work’ (9), Beckett here reiterating Bergson’s insistence on the
irreconcilability of intelligence and intuition. The problem persists in
the second volume where, in a letter to art critic and Beckett collabora-
tor Georges Duthuit, Beckett mounts a defence of his fi rst full-length
play, Eleutheria, by insisting on Victor Krapp’s ‘right to be silent’, and
adds, ‘I say confusedly what comes uppermost, like Browning’ (97). The
annotation tells us from which Browning poem the quotation derives
(‘Paracelsus’) but makes no mention of the fact that this quotation will
be central to Beckett’s shaping of another play, Happy Days, in 1961.
Furthermore, what becomes the methodology that develops into ‘Three
Dialogues with Georges Duthuit’, with Bram van Velde as the centre-
piece of Beckett’s critique, is discussed in Beckett’s letter to Duthuit of
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