ANDREW GIAMBRONEshows he was reading (or at least was supposed to be reading) <strong>the</strong> ancient Greeks andRomans (Plato, Aristotle, <strong>the</strong> Stoics, and <strong>the</strong> Epicureans), <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>rs of <strong>the</strong> Catholic Church(Saint Augustine and Saint Thomas Aquinas), and <strong>the</strong> post-Enlightenment philosophers of<strong>the</strong> modern era (Bentham, Mill, Kant, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Bergson, and Durkheim.)Camus was truly a student of <strong>the</strong> liberal arts. He absorbed <strong>the</strong> Western intellectual traditionlike a sponge.Still, it would be wrong to assume <strong>from</strong> such a dossier that Camus was completelyabsorbed in <strong>the</strong> world of abstract ideas while enrolled in university. On <strong>the</strong> cusp of histwenties, <strong>the</strong> young author had a lot going on in his life that pushed him to his academic,social, and psychological limits. In 1932, Camus moved out of his uncle Gustave’s apartmentsince Gustave would not let him return home with girls he had met on <strong>the</strong> bustling streets ofAlgiers. 229 One of those girls was Simone Hié, a bohemian actress and cynic, who would soonbecome Camus’s first wife.In <strong>the</strong> Acault household, Hié was <strong>the</strong> straw that broke <strong>the</strong> camel’s back. Aftermeeting Camus, she left her fiancé and one of Albert’s best friends, Max-Pol Fouchet, whowas a leader of <strong>the</strong> Federation of Young Socialists in Algeria. 230 This appalled <strong>the</strong> Acaults, notleast because <strong>the</strong>y knew that Hié, <strong>the</strong> daughter of a female ophthalmologist, had beenaddicted to morphine since <strong>the</strong> age of fourteen. When she could no longer steal prescriptions<strong>from</strong> her own mo<strong>the</strong>r, Hié began to get <strong>the</strong>m <strong>from</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r doctors, using her sexual allure andconversational charm as tools. 231Camus became an accessory to Hié’s addiction. Now living with his older bro<strong>the</strong>rLucien, who took him in after his falling out with uncle Gustave, <strong>the</strong> love-struck Camuswould obtain boxes of diluted morphine <strong>from</strong> his friend Louis Bénisti’s bro<strong>the</strong>r, a pharmacistin Bab el-Oued. 232 233 <strong>The</strong> idea was to gradually wean Simone off <strong>the</strong> drug by giving it to herin controlled amounts. It backfired — Hié continued to shoot up at <strong>the</strong> University of Algiers,where she took classes, and even at <strong>the</strong> home of a professor, Jacques Heurgon. 234 In this way,. p. 28, 44. See Bronner, Stephen Eric. Camus: Portrait of aMoralist. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009. Print. p. 10-14229 At this time, Algiers had 170,000 white residents and only 55,000 ‘natives.’ “What o<strong>the</strong>r city offers as manyriches all year long, <strong>the</strong> sea, sun, hot sand, geraniums, and…olive and eucalyptus trees?” Camus wrote to hisfriend Claude de Fréminville in October 1932. “We can be happy here…I could never live anywhere but Algiers,although I will travel because I want to know <strong>the</strong> world, but I’m sure that anywhere else, I’d always feel inexile.” supra Todd, Olivier. Camus, A Life. p. 23230supra Bronner, Stephen Eric. Camus: Portrait of a Moralist. p. 8231supra Todd, Olivier. Camus: A Life. p. 25232 Lucien was working as a sales representative and accountant, earning 1,800 francs a month. This was enoughto pay <strong>the</strong> rent, but he was also saving up to get married to a young seamstress and gave money to his mo<strong>the</strong>ras well. ibid.233ibid.234ibid.169
THE STRANGER, OR THE BOY FROM BELCOURTCamus’s relationship with Hié taught him <strong>the</strong> depths of love, <strong>the</strong> limits of trust, and how <strong>the</strong>two can often conflict.Camus struggled too. He was jealous that Hié turned men’s heads on <strong>the</strong> street, evenas she appeared in a trance-like state <strong>from</strong> <strong>the</strong> morphine. Cut off <strong>from</strong> <strong>the</strong> Acaults’ supportand without employment, Camus was also facing financial difficulties. His scholarshipmoney had run out, and he had failed to land a quasi-literary job as a secretary at apublishing house. 235 Perhaps what was most painful for <strong>the</strong> author, however, was that hebarely had <strong>the</strong> time or energy to write. He knew he was good enough to get published injournals like Sud and Alger Etudiant, but he felt increasingly tied down by his commitmentsand <strong>the</strong> exigencies of adult life. “When we’re twenty, we think we have rights, but I am moreand more convinced that we only have duties,” Camus wrote to his friend Claude deFréminville towards <strong>the</strong> end of 1933:I am so weary and broken…I feel myself getting old, at twenty…I know very wellthat I am suffering, and living fully. I know that <strong>the</strong> sublime cannot do without <strong>the</strong>tragic, although <strong>the</strong> contrary is sometimes true, when tragedy squeezes us too tightlyand prevents us <strong>from</strong> weeping. [I am going through] days of bitterness and unbelief.236<strong>The</strong> external necessities of Camus’s day-to-day life were draining him <strong>from</strong> <strong>the</strong>inside. Just twenty-years-old, he had developed an acute sense of <strong>the</strong> tragic and <strong>the</strong> mundane<strong>from</strong> his real-life experiences, and had learned to express those sentiments through language<strong>from</strong> years of reading literature and philosophy. Thus, Camus’s confrontation with life’sdemands (poverty, relationships, and mortality, among o<strong>the</strong>rs) comprised <strong>the</strong> personal basisfor <strong>the</strong> absurdist and communitarian philosophies of his adulthood — absurdist, at first,because he saw no inherent meaning in suffering but only in individual revolt; andsubsequently communitarian because that very same revolt required recognizing <strong>the</strong>universality of <strong>the</strong> human condition. 237Life taught Camus what tragedy was; Nietzsche and o<strong>the</strong>rs taught him how toprocess and articulate his experience of it. Camus continued to read such authors at <strong>the</strong>University of Algiers, where he and Simone took philosophy courses toge<strong>the</strong>r. He supported<strong>the</strong>m by using <strong>the</strong> wages he had earned <strong>from</strong> tutoring high school students and <strong>the</strong> fundsHié’s mo<strong>the</strong>r had given <strong>the</strong>m. 238235ibid.236ibid.237 For <strong>the</strong> best expression of Camus’s “absurdist” philosophy, see <strong>The</strong> Myth of Sisyphus (1942) or <strong>The</strong><strong>Stranger</strong> (1942); to get an idea of <strong>the</strong> communitarian values at <strong>the</strong> heart of his humanism, one must read <strong>The</strong>Plague (1947). It is helpful to consider <strong>the</strong> historical context in which <strong>the</strong>se works were produced — <strong>the</strong> firsttwo at <strong>the</strong> height of <strong>the</strong> second World War, <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r in <strong>the</strong> years immediately following <strong>the</strong> war’s end.238supra Bronner, Stephen Eric. Camus: Portrait of a Moralist. p. 8170
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