« je vous écris comme un aveugle, parce qu'en me parlant comme vous le faites [...] vous me faites tomber dans une obscurité presqu'insupportable. »

Autograph letter signed from Georges Bataille to Denise Rollin, 40 lines in black ink, two pages on one leaf.

George Bataille and Denise Rollin's relationship lasted from the autumn of 1939 to the autumn of 1943 and left behind it a short but passionate correspondence. This letter dates from the early days of their connection, but already reveals Bataille's agonies: “Perhaps I was too happy with you for some months, even though suffering did not wait long to interrupt, at least for a time, a happiness that was almost a challenge.”
A passionate lover, Bataille moved from exultation to the deepest doubt and even offered his lover a potential way out of their relationship: “If you can't take it, me, any more, I beg you, don't deceive yourself any longer: tell me it's me, and not some foible I could have avoided and which is easily repairable.” He would rather be sac-
rificed on the altar of their love than have a relationship that was bland and flavorless: “Understand me when I tell you that I don't want everything to get bogged down, that I would really rather suffer than see a sort of shaky mediocrity as a future for you and me.”

Earlier in the letter, he turns to humor to tear him away from his worries: “I hardly dare make you laugh by telling
you that I've lost weight, so that my trousers occasionally fall down, because I've not yet gotten into the habit of tightening my belt to the new notch.” Then, he goes back to pleading: “I write to you like a blind man, because that is what you make me when you talk to me the way you do when you leave or when you phone, you make me fall into a darkness that is almost unbearable.” He then tries to get a grip on himself:
“there are moments I'm ashamed of doubting you and being afraid, or of stupidly losing my head.”
Finally, hemmed in by all his doubts as a lover, Bataille tried to find some respite in talking about the family that he had made up with Denise and her son Jean (alias Bepsy): “If you write me, tell me how Bepsy's doing, which is perhaps the only thing that you can tell me that doesn't touch something painful in me.”

In a 1961 interview, Bataille looked back on this time: "Le Coupable is the first book that gave me a kind of satisfaction, an anxious one at that, that no book had given me and that no book has given me since. It is perhaps the book in which I am the most myself, which resembles me the most... because I wrote it as if in a sort of quick and continuous explosion." The letters addressed by Bataille to Denise during this period contain the seeds of the feelings that explode in Le Coupable as in all of Bataille's work. His writing is an ebb and flow of love and suffering, between ecstasy and disappointment, calm and energy, mixing familiar and formal tones, compliments and reproaches. The letters are often impossible to date with precision as they all proceed from the same movement of ecstatic flagellation.

In 1943, Georges Bataille found a house in Vézelay where the couple settled with Laurence (Georges and Sylvia's daughter), and Denise's son Jean. It was there that Bataille completed his book Le Coupable as well as his love story since barely a month after their arrival, Diane Kotchoubey, a young woman of 23, moved in with them. Before the end of the year, Bataille left Denise Rollin for this new flame.

These previously unknown letters were kept by Bataille's best friend Maurice Blanchot who from 1944 became the new lover Denise Rollin, this woman with a "melancholic and taciturn" beauty who "embodied silence". The crumpled letters (one is even torn into five pieces) are as much the precious trace of Bataille's extraordinary passion as they are a valuable source from a little-known period of his intimate life which was until then only perceived through the eyes of his friends. Above all they are of an exceptional literary quality and reveal several sides to him: the man, the accursed, the worshipper and the profaner... all that, according to Michel Foucault, makes Georges Bataille "one of the most important writers of this century”.