Andre Malraux
REMEMBERING TROTSKY
The motor stopped before a transom, and the muffled
throbbings of the sea, close by, filled the silence of the night. Slowly,
advancing on the path opened by our lights, preceded by a discreet
young comrade carrying an electric lantern, appeared a pair of white
shoes and white trousers - a pajama suit reaching up to the neck.
The head remained hidden by the darkness of the night. I have seen
faces that express exceptional lives: almost all are distinct counte–
nances . I waited with greater curiosity to look at this face marked by
one of the world's greatest destinies .
From the moment that this phantom in eyeglasses stopped, I
noticed that all the force of his features was in his mouth - smooth,
tense lips, extremely determined - an Asiatic statue. He laughed un–
til the strangeness wore off, with a head laugh that seemed to bear no
relation to his voice (a laugh disclosing small teeth far apart, extraor–
dinarily young teeth in the fine face, embellished by a white head).
His voice, obliging and imperious at the same time, seemed to say:
"Let us finish quickly with these cordial greetings and pass on to
more serious things ."
Serious things for him in this period when direct action is for–
bidden as a condition of his remaining in France were, in a word ,
the exercise of his intelligence. At the great writing desk on which a
revolver served as a paperweight, the presence of Trotsky brought to
mind one of the most suggestive problems: the relation between
character and destiny .
We attribute to the blind a rigorous certainty of judgement. I
think that is due to the fact that the blind judge a man only by his
voice . In effect, nothing, neither the face, nor the smile, nor his con–
duct, expresses man, for the simple reason that man is not expressi–
ble. But of all these tiny open doors, it is certainly the tone of voice
which shows the greatest possible quantity of personality. Trotsky
did not speak his own language; but even in French, the principal
quality of his voice dominates completely what he says - the absence
Editor's Note: This essay first appeared in Spain in June 1934.
