Discusses Trevelyan's tendency to 'mysticism', quoting him as saying 'we should be able... to rise above... good and evil, in the way that mystics claim to do'; fears that he is 'victim of analogy'. Uses the illustration of an artist who succeeds in creating something 'true to life'; draws a line marked 'O' as the place where 'the painter equals the object', with two arrows leading from it, 'one progressive which leads to Liberty', the other 'regressive' which gets further and further from the object. Discusses the works of art which are at each end: towards the 'regressive' end are 'puerile works which attempt representation crudely', and at the other works which 'more and more voluntarily disappear from appearance'; yet there are many people who cannot distinguish between the two. Moves on to discuss knowledge and reason. Calls Trevelyan 'too English', though he seems to belong to 'the rare class of English contemplatives', and may not be interested in the 'noble art of boxing'; talks about prize fights, before which journalists publish all possible measurements of the two combatants. Sometimes predictions are wrong: he gives the fight between Bombardier Wells and Carpentier as an example. Quality, that is 'the appearance of freedom', plays an important role, in the 'cosmos' as well as in boxing. Draws another line illustrating the relationship between necessity, reason, and liberty. Thinks there is a 'mode of knowledge that goes beyond reason' which he calls 'Free Spirit', and which begins at 'the exact point when action... all judgements... and the role of the Useful' stop, yet all these elements must first have been passed through, or one makes the errors of Lao Tse, Plotinus or Parmenides respectively. Most people who claim the insufficiency of reason get to that point through 'regression', such as Pascal. Despite his 'puerility and his shocking vanity' Bergson has had 'some intuitions of high freedom' particularly in his thoughts on language, which is the 'ultimate form of determinism which it is necessary to defeat'. Has more to say, but has written a great deal; will talk more if Trevelyan wishes it.
Is 'very culpable and negligent' towards Trevelyan, but he is 'always so indulgent' that Marchand hopes he will be pardoned again; he is obviously an 'almost disgustingly lazy being'. Begins by thanking Trevelyan as well as 'the young artist' [Julian]: asks if Julian still likes Corot, and if so to continue his appreciation of that artist, whom Marchand himself loves more and more. As Trevelyan thought, they are at Vence; he had a hard job 'detaching Sonia [Lewitska] from the hill' where she 'incrusts herself every winter like a crab on a rock'. Hasn't seen Trevelyan for a long time; has a fond memory of the first time he met Madame Trevelyan, for whom he feels much affinity; his regret for not visiting her at 'Gluffolds' [an error for Shiffolds?] is greater, and he regrets that he no longer knows when he will be in London again, since the exchange rate is 'ruinous' and the future 'quite sombre'. Wonders what has become of everyone who was gathered then: has not seen [Francis] Birrell or [Arthur?] Waley since then, though he thinks often of them. Waley sent him a book which he read slowly and has re-read continuously about the works of Lao-tse and other Chinese writers, translated by Vignier: it is both full of old experience and new goodness, and some phrases apply perfectly to the current situation. Is only returning to Paris in the last week of April; Trevelyan will give him great pleasure if they can meet then. Adds a postscript as Sonia sends best regards to both Trevelyans. Marchand asks if Trevelyan is still working on his translation of Aeschylus and Sophocles. Has seen that in the last election 'notre ami' Winston Churchill was beaten again: he can then leave it all for his 'mad passion - that of painting'. Asks Trevelyan to send him Waley's address if he has a chance.