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South America: Diary of Louis Jouvet, August 17 1941
[...] "The majority of French people who live here have never been to France, or have not been there for a very long time... They have somehow gotten this idea that all the French have packed up and defected to Germany... Their reasoning is appallingly puerile. I've told them, to these people, that their reasoning was childish, and that if they were back in France, they wouldn't be asking those questions; that there were, back in France, 39 million French people who were suffering with a dignity they just couldn't imagine... When we tell them that Giraudoux and Romains, those we came here to perform, are forbidden in Paris,�when I tell them that we left because we didn't want to take any part in this, then they understand... As for myself, I feel a great deal of pride... Yes, I am rather proud of the work we're doing here, and also of the good work we do for France as French citizens on this continent where the people who admired and revered our country now feel confused by all that is happening..."[...]

Chile 1942
[After the scuttling of the French fleet in Toulon's harbor, the German embassy returns its box at the Theatre. The papers make a fuss about it. The following day:]
[...] That night, they're performing Judith. It's a difficult play. It rarely gets an enthusiastic response. [...] The curtain comes down on the third and last act. There's an outburst of applause, louder, more intense. Some shouts of bravo are heard. The actors are called back several times. Suddenly, after the last curtain call, a low muted rumbling seems to rise from the house and reaches us backstage. Jouvet, always quick to worry, is wondering what is happening and orders quiet. We all shut up and listen, immobile. We then hear more clearly, even though still muffled by the thick curtains that separate us from the public, the familiar strains of the Marseillaise. Jouvet shouts, calling us back to the proscenium.
And as the curtain is going up, that Marseillaise at last liberated, radiant, vibrant, sung by all the spectators standing up, fills the house and the stage. The actors transfixed, flabbergasted, are overcome. Jouvet is nervously, violently clenching his jaws. They stand out from under his temples as he's making a desperate effort to control his emotion. He's certainly not going to cry like a schoolgirl in front of a thousand people, is he?
Like a schoolgirl he cried, while mumbling under his breath: Ah! It's so stupid! It's so stupid! It's so stupid... [...]

Mysticism
[...] It's when he was in Peru that a mixture of mysticism and spiritualism took hold of Jouvet and replaced the sort of indifference he had always shown until then toward God and the mysteries of the after-life.[...] It's in South America, with the free time and the hardships he had to endure there, that he found the time and the occasion to delve into these things. Without any noticeable transition, but carefully, like someone venturing on very dangerous and unknown territory, atheism and faith became the focus of daily conversations.[...] The more he studied Moli�re's play, the more lenient he became towards the character of Dom Juan, and other people. It's as if the "company" of this character made him better realize his own failings and flaws. Wasn't he also a great sinner before Christian morality? Hadn't he sacrificed everything to the theatre? [...] hadn't he, without any remorse, abandoned his own family? Hadn't he fluttered carelessly from one love to the next? Hadn't he been on occasion too proud, and often cynical, selfish, demanding, unfair, vindictive, ruthless, and rarely forgiving? [...] Will he live long enough to make up for it? [...] He isn't fooling himself. He knows the real reason behind his new relation with God is his visceral fear of death. [...] Louis Jouvet, naturally superstitious, and above all haunted by this fear, will become the model of the superstitious believer. At any rate, Jouvet-- like many believers-- will easily adapt himself to this mixture, to the irrational behavior that comes from mixing superstition with the sacred. Having always been a very complex man, one more contradiction or paradox is of no consequence to him. Very soon, he'll start seeking fortune tellers. [...]

Medellin: May 1943
[...] Louis Jouvet will know in this paradise his first real vacation in two years. Relaxed, free from any immediate worry, he seizes this opportunity, like he does every time he has some free time, to write down the thoughts and reflections that haunt him, that are destined to be assembled and organized -God willing- along with all the others he assembled before and those he'll never stop accumulating until his death, in order to form a coherent work on theatre. This overpowering need to write about his profession becomes an obsession. "When I'm questioning myself, I realize naively that I want to write the book I would have liked to find about our profession when I was twenty..."[...]

Falling out with Jules Romains
[Mexico, 1944]
[...] So, as Jouvet often reminded us, we were surviving, at least in part, on public charity.
That's why he took it very hard when, on the night of the unique performance of M. Le Trouhadec saisi par la d�bauche, Mr Jules Romains, aware of our difficulties, [...] went to collect his ten percent of the receipts at intermission in lieu of the Soci�t� des auteurs, even though he didn't need the money. [...] He had already done the same for Knock earlier. Jouvet hadn't liked it, but as we didn't have to restage the show, he let it pass. From Jules Romains, notorious for his penny-pinching, it came as no surprise to Jouvet. But that he actually would do the same thing with Le Trouhadec, after he had taken the trouble of explaining to him in painful details that restaging it, along with Electre, was costing us all the money we had, that he couldn't accept!
It'll be a long time before he can forgive him.
[...] We wanted this little cold war to end. Tentatively we'd say:
-Boss, it really seems to us that you could...
-Ah! you leave me alone, ok? What now? We bleed ourselves to death to brilliantly restage Le Trouhadec for only one performance! It eats up two months worth of expenses for this one night that won't even bring in enough money to cover expenses for more than one week! And you want me to be nice to him? Come now! He can drop dead! Yes, you heard me! [...] He's so selfish, it makes me sick. And insensitive to everything that surrounds him, when it doesn't involve him personally! [...] But if you're talking about tenderness, generosity, poetry, forget it! Not the least bit a poet, I tell you! When you're lucky enough to have a name like Farigoule, a name that smells sweetly of thyme and of the countryside, you don't change it to Romains! Always his thirst for power, glory, and domination. Had he dared, he'd have changed it to Caesar! You can be sure he thought about it. What must have stopped him is that with Jules, it would have been a tad obvious. And may have made people laugh. Otherwise, you can take my word for it....[...]

Getting back the Ath�n�e
[...] In 1934, Jouvet had rented the Ath�n�e theatre in his own name and had brought it as assets to the "Soci�t� du Th��tre Louis Jouvet". In 1942, the lease coming to an end, the Soci�t� du Th��tre Louis Jouvet began negociations for renewal with the owner of the Ath�n�e, Madame Leblanc.
That's when things started getting a bit unorthodox. The Soci�t� first proceeded to a decrease of its capital; followed later by an increase of said capital. As a consequence, there was such an increase in the number of shares of the Soci�t� that Louis Jouvet, in no position to buy more, was reduced to holding the smallest number of shares. [...] The first part of the scheme having succeeded, [...] it was time to move on to the next step. It was a very simple plan: to convince the owner of the Ath�n�e, Madame Leblanc, to make out the lease, not to Louis Jouvet himself, [...] but solely to the "Soci�t� du Th��tre Louis Jouvet". To achieve this, they believe they have an unbeatable argument: Louis Jouvet's exile to South America [...]. It would be ridiculous and senseless to sign a theatre lease to an individual who is far, very far from France, and about whom one can reasonably assume that he may not return for a very long time.... and that he may never come back at all. How [...] would he be able to face his responsabilities as a tenant? What recourse would there be against him if he were to fail them? [...] That's all very well, but there's a hitch!... [Madame Leblanc] likes Jouvet whom she admires. She smells a rat and knows Jouvet is going to bear the brunt of the operation. Since he has no one to take care of his interests, she will do it herself. And nothing will change her mind. [...] And thanks to the steadfast Madame Leblanc, [...] Louis Jouvet was able to keep his theatre and take back his stage when he returned. [...]

All excerpts from:
Dix ans avec Jouvet (Ten years with Jouvet)
by Leo Lapara
Editions France-Empire
1975
Translation: SylvieL