Lucien REBATET (1903-1972). L.A.S. "Lucien", Maison Centrale de Clairvaux 1st-2nd January 1949, to his wife Véronique 6 pages in-4 on prison administrative paper, with prison number (1724) and workshop number (Inos III). Long and interesting letter from Clairvaux prison, talking about his life as a prisoner, Céline, art and his reading. [Sentenced to death at the Liberation and later pardoned, Rebatet was interned at Clairvaux until July 1952]. He wishes Véronique good health and money for the New Year, because as for the other wishes, he has no hope...". As one lifer to another, we wish each other nothing"; for she too has been a convict for more than 3 and a half years: widowhood, troubles, useless phone calls, visiting hours behind bars, etc. "In truth, I don't expect anything from you", he says. "In truth, I don't expect anything from a new year. There's no way, the last snatches of hope have disappeared". Without his visit, 1 January was a gloomy, empty and sordid day. He felt crushed by fate, depressed and inconsolable: "The moral support I receive is too rare". Perhaps his situation would be a little less disappointing if friends and family visited him once in a while, bringing him books and newspapers that would give him a bit of a connection with life and allow him to "devote at least part of this appallingly wasted time to some form of study"... She criticised him for not cultivating good friendships, but that was tantamount to attacking his morals and politics. He takes the example of René Clair, who always showed him esteem and kindness: "But there was too fundamental an antinomy between our natures, our conceptions, for me to really hope for his friendship. Quite frankly, what would you have thought of me if I'd been like that one, in 1940, from the little clan fleeing their unhappy country, with ladies born into the families of rabbis or diamond merchants? He has always sacrificed money, comfort and flattering relationships "to the ambition of leaving a few truthful pages" that will go down in history. But he admits that he was too naive, and intends to explain himself publicly "if I don't die here. But I have the right to feel that I am paying a truly exorbitant price for my taste for the truth"... Véronique was right about Céline, who finally let him down: "For more than two years, the Doctor's letters had been an intellectual turn-on for me [...] The Doctor left, [...] I put my papers away, finished, at the bottom of my hole"... He no longer wanted her to give him false hope by telling him about all the steps she was taking, because each time he fell deeper into this hole, even though there was more and more evidence, "judicial, diplomatic, financial proof, etc. of the injustice of which we are the victims. He is in despair at seeing his "beloved Minette" reduced to a "life of poverty", and at not being able to provide her with the essentials, when if he were outside, he could change that completely. He urged her to go and see the exhibition at the Petit Palais devoted to the masterpieces of the Munich Pinakothek, which he considered to be one of the most beautiful museums in the world, and which he had seen at length in 1937, so that they could talk about it together. In particular, he recommended Rubens, Rembrandt, Dürer and Cranach, "of a very Kraut taste, but so full of fantasy", as well as paintings by Tintoretto, Tiepolo, Goya, Greco, Botticelli, the Flemish Primitives, and so on. "My pictorial memory is still quite good," he says, although he is beginning to have gaps in it: he has only been able to locate 240 Rembrandts, whereas he once had 450 of the 600 in his head... 2 January. He continues his letter, talking about his blood pressure and dental problems: "Nothing is more depressing". He doesn't tell her about his day because there's nothing to tell: he can't do anything, and "very often I end up curled up in my corner, dozing off [...] in such cases I can't sleep at night. You must be tired of hearing my whining [...], it would be more dignified to shut my mouth, even with you". The only pleasure in his life has been reading Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamazov: a lot of reading helps to overcome his sad fate, and half his sentence would be lightened if he were given a little intellectual nourishment. He would like to study Dostoyevsky further, if he could obtain The Idiot and The Possessed from a generous donor, and a good biography, perhaps by Henri Troyat... He asks Véronique to continue to write to him often, and to try to come and see him on Sunday... Etc. A file of press cuttings on Les Décombres and Rebatet's trial is attached.