Melancholia in Le Mans 1959–1960 111
work on anything personal. He no longer felt up to staying in touch
with his closest friends. In conditions like this, how would he ever
manage to fi nish off a thesis? True, Jean Hyppolite assured him that
in the new academic year he would be appointed to the Sorbonne,
where a job as assistant in general philosophy awaited him: ‘I’ve
already told them you’d accept. I reckon it’s a very favourable
opportunity for you.’^7 But after the disappointment of the previous
autumn, Jackie mistrusted illusory hopes and feared that he might
have to stay for years in a dull place like Le Mans.
And now, to crown it all, the headmaster insisted that Derrida,
being the last teacher to arrive in the lycée, should write and deliver
the speech on prize-giving day. Genette remembers the gloom into
which this request plunged Derrida:
I can still see him, lying in his bed, explaining to me that he
was quite unable to compose this ‘ridiculous secular homily’:
‘No, come off it, that I can’t do, I’ve got nothing to say to
those bloody idiots.’ But the headmaster insisted. To try to put
Derrida on a suitable track, I reminded him that the lycée build-
ing was an old school of the Oratorians, and Father Mersenne
must have passed through it – the philosopher and scientist,
the friend of Descartes, Pascal, and Gassendi. I suggested he
deliver a speech in praise of Mersenne, and even off ered to
gather a few documents to assist him in his task.^8Derrida had something else to worry about: the famous twenty-
four hours of the Le Mans races that were due to take place on 25
and 26 June, creating hubbub throughout the city. After having
given his last classes as well as he could, he left with Marguerite
for the countryside and did not return until just before 14 July,
to deliver the aforementioned prize-giving speech on the stage of
the new theatre in Le Mans. At this juncture, his appointment as
lecturer at the Sorbonne was confi rmed. Marguerite and he got rid
of the few pieces of furniture they possessed and set off to look for
accommodation in the Paris region. Then they left for Prague to
stay with Marguerite’s family, in their little 2 CV. Even though this
journey to the other side of the ‘Iron Curtain’ roused his interest,
Jackie could not dig himself out of his hole. On his return, he was
so low that he decided to consult a psychiatrist. Anti-depressants
had just been invented: the fi rst were put on the market in 1958.
Jackie was prescribed Anafraline, which quickly produced benefi cial
eff ects, but caused several side-eff ects: hot fl ushes, tremors, etc.
When Maurice de Gandillac wrote to him at the end of the
summer, he said he was sorry to hear of Derrida’s ‘serious health
problems’. He hoped that his new post at the Sorbonne would mean
he was soon his old self again.