One Hundred Twenty-One Days (16 page)

Announcement: It pleased God to call to Himself Marguerite Janvier, wife of M., deceased on the 28th of February, 1945, after a long and painful illness.

M.’s wearing of mourning clothes was ostentatious (per Pierre Meyer).

M.’s second daughter, Marthe, took care of him (she stopped her studies) from when Marguerite died until her own death in 1990.

Pierre and Bernadette were married in December 1945, a civil ceremony (Ignace M. was Bernadette’s witness, Mireille Duvivier was Pierre’s witness, no announcement?). After completing their studies, she became a pediatrician and he a professor of mathematics. Two daughters, Andrée and Nathalie, born in 1948 and 1950.

Does M. have any other surviving archives? Pierre Meyer doesn’t know.

POUCH 4

HANDWRITTEN NOTES TAKEN AFTER THE INTERVIEWS WITH PIERRE MEYER

(Pages torn from the blue notebook)

On Doctor Sonntag
. See the booklet dedicated to him by the University of Strasbourg. Evacuated to Clermont in 1939, arrested as a member of the Resistance, sent to Drancy as a Jew, Convoy 57 for Auschwitz. At Monowitz, directs the Revier (sick bay? the word “hospital” hardly seems accurate). He gets Silberberg assigned there (one of his patients from before the war). Meets Meyerbeer (the psychiatrist), who is also deported and treated (?) at the Revier. Buchenwald after the death march (evacuation of Auschwitz). Resumed his life in Strasbourg, testified at Nuremberg, wrote a text, in 1947, on Monowitz marked with an incredible sense of responsibility.

On Silberberg
. See the booklet on Sonntag and Louis Klein’s book. Mobilized (in aviation) in 1939. After the armistice and demobilization, appointed senior teacher at a high school in Digne, then dismissed (Statute on Jews of October 3, 1940). Then (December 1940? January 1941?) in Clermont-Ferrand (research in number theory, private tutoring to earn a living). Rounded up by the Nazis in June 1943. Drancy, Convoy 60 for Auschwitz. Secretary of the Revier at Monowitz. Died at Mariahilf in April 1945.

POUCH 5

NOTES TAKEN AT THE LIBRARY OF THE CHEMISTRY LABORATORY IN P. (12-18-08)

(François Ollier Archive Collection)

Huge archives, lots of information on the France-Germany Committee, then the collaboration (great for those who want to write a biography of Ollier!):

•  Family letters, newspaper clippings. Military passbook. Notebooks. His wife’s scrapbooks (recipes, invitations).

•  Carbon copy of a letter, addressee unknown, recounting the reception at Göring’s (Olympic Games of 1936), “a whole new world is emerging,” five typed pages.

•  Newsletter from the France-Germany Committee, 1937.

•  Letter to the weekly magazine
Les Temps Nouveaux
, 1941.

•  Letter to the chemists of IG Farben, 4-6-43.

•  Incarcerated until 12-23-44 at Les Tourelles camp. Freed (under surveillance).

•  Notes for the lawyer: “Relations with German authorities in order to defend the freedom and maintenance of the scientific press. I have never had any contact with students, and I cannot be reprimanded for having exerted any kind of harmful influence on young people.”

•  Notes “for an appeal from my colleagues to the judge”: “I was added to the Groupe Collaboration by surprise, resigning from it would have been viewed as tactless.”

•  Petition to the Minister of the Interior.

•  Case closed, March 1948.

POUCH 6

LETTER FROM HENRI PARISET TO MIREILLE DUVIVIER (3-19-48) AND LETTER FROM SAMUEL REISKY TO PARISET (3-10-48)

(Copies, the originals belong to Pierre Meyer)

Paris, March 19, 1948

Dear Mademoiselle,

I hope that you are in good health and that your work at the National Library continues to be enjoyable. I’m forwarding you a letter I have just received from the United States which I’m sure will interest you.

Warmest regards,

Henri Pariset

P.S. You can keep the letter.

New York, Wednesday, March 10, 1948

Dear Professor,

I knew André Silberberg at the Monowitz camp. He was very nice. He gave the prisoners German lessons. He explained number theory, he drew a square in the dirt and said “here’s the root of 2.” I forget now, but he explained “perfect” numbers. Once, he gave a talk on quantum theory. He spoke about you, his professor. He helped us a lot. Excuse my French, it’s not very good, I can’t write very much. I was born in a village in Poland, but I lived in Paris (Rue de Ménilmontant). Now I live in the United States and I’m learning English. Someone told me he’s dead. I’m very sorry to hear that.

Kind regards,

Samuel Reisky

How do you talk about Auschwitz?

POUCH 7

ANNOUNCEMENT FROM
LE MONDE

(Newspaper clipping)

Nicole Duvivier, née Gorenstein,

and her daughter Mireille

are saddened to announce the death,

at the age of 56, of

ROBERT GORENSTEIN

mathematician

x 1911

on the 12
TH
of October, 1949.

The funeral will take place at the crematorium of

Père-Lachaise Cemetery

on the 17
TH
of October at half past ten in the morning.

No flowers or wreaths please.

The “x” marks his graduation date from the École Polytechnique.
Pierre Meyer’s memories: very intimate service, Nicole, Mireille, Pariset with two colleagues, Pierre.

POUCH 8

TRIP TO OXFORD, MARCH 2009

(Harold Smith Archive Collection)

Wonderful collection of mathematical manuscripts. But also lots of letters to his wife. Both died rather young.

Letter from Harold Smith to Barbara Smith (6-8-50) (re-transcribed from the original English).

(To understand this letter, it’s important to know that Charlotte Kürz married Wilhelm Hermann (mathematician, student of Kürz) in 1949.)

June 8, 1950

My dear Barbara,

After yesterday’s long and serious letter, I’ll try to be more trivial today. This time it won’t be the description of a library, statues, or monuments, but a pastry shop. This one is called Korb & Schlag (which means “basket and cream”). I had my breakfast there this morning, on Hermann’s recommendation. Truly extraordinary. I will try to bring you a few Schokoladekugeln.

I have to go and give my first talk, I’ll continue this letter tonight or tomorrow morning.

It’s late, but I’m picking up my pen again to tell you about the evening I’ve just had at the Hermanns’. I was truly quite honoured by their invitation, even more so because they had also invited several of their friends and colleagues, the biologist Tiedemann and the historian von Apfeldorf—you know, the specialist in the German Middle Ages—with their wives, as well as Hermann’s wife’s parents, namely Heinrich Kürz himself—whose work I’ve told you about, but whom I had never met in person before—and his wife, Frau Kürz, whose first name I didn’t hear.

The Hermanns live in a pretty house on Schillerstrasse. It’s not very far from the centre of town, in an utterly charming residential neighbourhood. To start, we had pre-dinner drinks in the garden, under a linden tree, between the rhododendrons and rosebushes in full bloom. The dinner was German, but delicious: a Gruyère salad, a pork roast with cranberry sauce and sautéed potatoes, and an apple tart (brought by the Tiedemanns, if I understood correctly). The wine was French, and I have to tell you, everything was perfect. Then, coffee, kirsch, pipes, and music.

Probably owing to the presence of the distinguished historian, the conversation was mainly about the origins of German folklore and fairy tales, in particular the story of Faust—I should really say stories, because there are a lot of them. It was a bit highbrow, but fascinating. I’ll tell you everything I learnt as soon as I get back. We also talked about dogs, I think it was because of a tradition from northern Germany in which the devil is accompanied by a dog.

All this naturally took place in German, and I think I managed quite honourably.

Kürz played a Beethoven sonata for us,
Sonata quasi una fantasia
, he announced, it’s the one we call
Moonlight
. I’m sure you’ve already heard me say he’s a very good mathematician, so I was very impressed that he was also such a good pianist.