Louis-Ferdinand CÉLINE, imprisoned, is worried about Lucette's situation.

Louis-Ferdinand Céline (1894.1961)

Autographed letter signed to his lawyer Thorvald Mikkelsen and his wife Lucette.

Two quarto pages on pink paper from the Københavns Faengsler prison.

Copenhagen. Friday, August 17, 1946.

Unpublished letter to the Pléiade correspondence.

"I'm only worried about my poor Lucette, then my cat, and finally my freedom."

An interesting account of Céline's prison situation, overwhelmed by despair over the difficult situation his wife Lucette was experiencing due to his own imprisonment.

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"My dear Master, I am now settled into my new cell, certainly one of the best possible. The doctor and nurse are taking care of me. I feel the benevolent influence everywhere, the providence of Mikkelsen! My only worries are my poor Lucette, my cat, and my freedom. It's a lot, of course, an enormous amount; a prisoner can only groan. Bad times. And you don't have a minute! Well done. Des[touches]."

My darling little Mimi, your poor, tragic, painful message fills me with sorrow. How could I have been so brutal, so foolish, so unjust? You, who have so admirably resisted, are now attempting such pitiful means to defend me before everyone. You, all alone, poor little thing, in this foreign city—without words […]. I blame Karen [Karen Marie Jensen]. She told me quite the opposite: that she didn't want you to lack anything, and besides, that it wasn't her money but ours, our household money. She didn't make the slightest unkind remark, quite the contrary, but I immediately concocted a monstrous idea and committed the idiocy of heaping reproaches upon you. How foolish and mad I am. However, I believe cohabitation with Karen is impossible. […]

You must absolutely not stoop to the level of Cinderella, a kitchen maid, a humiliated, smeared, relegated little thing! Never. […] She would never do anything of the sort. I think—but still, one mustn't tempt fate. You have your independence, she says so quite clearly herself. Of course, I'll pay her the rent and the furniture damaged by Bébert [Céline's cat] , and I'll still be very grateful, but you must not, under any circumstances, let yourself be reduced to the level of a punching bag. Never. I would suffer to know you were like that, ten times more justly than prison . You only have to calculate the money for 5 or 6 years—7 years—and that's all—to spend—without extravagance, of course, but nicely and well-dressed, sleeping well, eating well with Bébert. There's plenty . Only in this feeling of knowing you are at ease can I endure – but by no means a Cinderella of a princess, a distraught, mangy, humiliated little creature – Never . A hundred thousand times rather go home and right now and I assure you, with joy .

I'm wary of your efforts to earn a living. I'm afraid of police complications. […] If you teach more right away, the jealousies will inevitably resurface. You'd need proper authorization and the police! You won't get it! So go slowly and very carefully. […] Don't buy me too much food . I'm full of it. Getting fat is bad for me too! I'm at the best I can be. If I feel you getting better, then you should get fat too, sleep, and practice your dancing. It's good that Karen goes to see the Foreign Office on her way home. Maybe I'll finally find out why they won't release me ? It's almost funny. The policeman from Paris still hasn't arrived! Can you believe it!

I'd really like to know what Léon Bloy was doing in Denmark? Probably on the run. He spent his life on the run. He was a furious, polemical Catholic writer, not very scrupulous but full of talent—and epileptic. He deceived everyone. He tried to blackmail the Rothschilds. [Céline was reading a book about Léon Bloy in his cell at the time.]

No more than one Revue des 2 Mondes – I'm overloaded with books. I'll see you soon. […] Spend what you need, but only with police authorization no – even in these atrocious times and for the sake of the most precious friendship. Never fall from grace – never – I'd much rather return to Fresnes right away than know you're scorned, cast aside, […] ”

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Céline sought refuge in Denmark after the Liberation. He found lodging in the apartment of a friend, the dancer Karen Marie Jensen, who was then living in Madrid. Upon learning of Céline's presence in Denmark in October 1945, the French ambassador inquired with the Minister of Foreign Affairs about the appropriate course of action. Georges Bidault replied that an arrest warrant had been issued for Céline in April 1945 and that his extradition should be obtained. On December 17, 1945, the couple was arrested, with Lucette being released a few days later. For his defense, Céline turned to Thorwald Mikkelsen in Denmark, a French-speaking and Francophile lawyer he had met through Danish friends, and in France to Albert Naud, a lawyer and former member of the Resistance, whom he approached through his friend Antonio Zuloaga, the press attaché at the Spanish embassy. The Danish government, deeming the charges against Céline insufficient, refused his extradition but kept him in prison until the beginning of March 1947, when he was transferred to a hospital in Copenhagen.