This Week in Literary History: James Joyce and Marcel Proust Meet for the First (and Only) Time

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On May 18, 1922, the wealthy British art patrons Sydney and Violet Schiff hosted a dinner at the fashionable Hotel Majestic in Paris, ostensibly to celebrate Igor Stravinsky’s Renard, which had premiered that night, performed by the Ballets Russes at the Théâtre de l’Opéra, but really to bring together the men they considered to be “the world’s greatest living artists”: Marcel Proust, James Joyce, Pablo Picasso, and Stravinsky himself.

The Schiffs no doubt expected scintillating conversation, best friendships, and/or aesthetic transcendence to come of the evening, but they didn’t get any of that.

According to Craig Brown’s book, Hello Goodbye Hello: A Circle of 101 Remarkable Meetings, Joyce appeared after dinner, “shabby and drunk,” and made a beeline for the champagne. Not to be outdone, Proust arrived even later, sometime after 2AM, “elegantly furred but looking pale and sickly.” From there, accounts of the night vary, but they all agree it did not go well. Here are a few reports:

As told by James Joyce many years later to Jacques Mercanton: ‘Proust would talk only of duchesses, while I was more concerned with their chambermaids.’

As told by James Joyce to his close friend Frank Budgen: ‘Our talk consisted solely of the word “No”. Proust asked me if I knew the duc de so-and-so. I said, “No.” Our hostess asked Proust if he had read such and such a piece of Ulysses. Proust said, “No.” And so on. Of course the situation was impossible. Proust’s day was just beginning. Mine was at an end.’

As told by William Carlos Williams: joyce: I’ve had headaches every day. My eyes are terrible. proust: My poor stomach. What am I going to do? It’s killing me. In fact, I must leave at once. joyce: I’m in the same situation. If I can find someone to take me by the arm. Goodbye! proust: Charmé. Oh, my stomach.

As told by Ford Madox Ford: proust: As I say, Monsieur, in Du Côté de chez Swann, which without doubt you have – joyce: No, Monsieur. (pause) joyce: As Mr Bloom says in my Ulysses, which, Monsieur, you have doubtless read … proust: But, no, Monsieur. (pause) Proust apologises for his late arrival, ascribing it to malady, before going into the symptoms in some detail. joyce: Well, Monsieur, I have almost exactly the same symptoms. Only in my case, the analysis …

Proust died exactly six months later, on November 18, 1922 (Joyce did attend his funeral). The dinner at the Majestic was the last party in French society he would attend before the end, but at least it was a legendary one.