The Walls of Louis-le-Grand 1949–1952 41
brilliant student considered by some to be ‘a prince of philosophy’,
had been admitted to Normale Sup the previous year and was
returning to the lycée simply to play the title role in the play. Both
fascinated and annoyed by the insolence and the cavalier manners
of the young actor, Derrida would never forget this ‘primal scene’
which marked the start of their relationship:
It wasn’t even a ‘fi rst meeting’. At the time, he didn’t see me
[.. .]. This dissymmetry that left me in the shade [.. .] says
something about the later destiny of our friendship. [.. .] In
Don Carlos, I had a walk-on part as an obscure and silent
‘Spanish grandee’ with a beard as black as my velvet-embroi-
dered doublet. And from the anonymous background to which
I was relegated, he was glory in person and everything radiated
out from him, even when he was on his knees in the light.^11Towards the end of the year, Jackie moved away somewhat from
Bellemin-Noël and grew closer to Pierre Foucher, and especially
Michel Monory, who, for nearly ten years, would be his closest friend.
Monory had already been a boarder at Louis-le-Grand for two years;
he had been a hypokhâgne pupil there, before a primary infection
obliged him to abandon his fi rst khâgne. Shy and sentimental, he
played the organ, liked theatre, read and re-read Le Grand Meaulnes;
he was also one of the ‘talas’, the school’s nickname for those who
‘vont-à-la-messe’ (go to mass). The relationship between him and
Jackie started to intensify one evening at the Lysimaque, a Greek
restaurant behind the Gibert bookshop. From then on they enjoyed
long, often rapt conversations or silent walks down the boulevard
Saint-Michel or along the quais. Jackie gave Michel Gravity and Grace
by Simone Weil, which had just been published; Michel reciprocated
with a little Van Gogh illustrated in colour. He was often impressed by
his friend: it seemed to him as if Jackie had been born having already
read everything, even the complete works of Plato.^12
It was true that Derrida’s marks in philosophy were good enough
to inspire jealousy. In the fi rst term, he had the best results in the
class, with an average of 14 and a more than positive evaluation
from Étienne Borne: ‘Cultivated. Gifted. Thoughtful. Good results.’
In the second term, he came second, probably behind Pariente, but
with an average mark of 14.5 and a congratulatory note: ‘First-class
philosophical qualities.’ Unfortunately for him, philosophy was far
from being the only subject that counted. At that time, there was no
specialization in the competitive exam for entry to Normale Sup.
And selection was so stringent that you could not aff ord the least slip
in any subject. Derrida’s marks in history-geography and French
were good – ‘valuable qualities which he needs to bring out more’
–, English was ‘not yet up to the standard required’, and ‘needs to