Numerous black and white photographic reproductions.
Handsome copy.
First edition, a first impression copy numbered in the press.
Binding in half brown morocco, spine in five compartments, gilt date at the foot, geometric pattern paper boards and endpapers in the same paper, top edge gilt, wrappers and spine preserved in perfect condition, binding signed by T. Boichot.
Apollinaire's second major poetic work with bold graphic innovations and a portrait of Guillaume Apollinaire by Pablo Picasso as frontispiece.
“Some of the best war poems, all languages combined, are brought together in this collection, alongside experimental works such as Les Fenêtres (close to Cubism) and La Jolie Rousse, which were far ahead of their time” (Cyril Connolly, Cent livres-clés de la littérature moderne, n° 32).
A beautiful copy on non-brittle paper which is unusual, and a rare and surprising handwritten inscription signed by Guillaume Apollinaire: “à monsieur le critique littéraire de La Libre Parole, hommage de Guill. Apollinaire." (“To the literary critic of La Libre Parole, tribute by Guill. Apollinaire.”)
Who could be the recipient of this inscription, unnamed but addressed to a collaborator of the famous anti-Semitic newspaper founded by Édouard Drumont? The ostensibly philo-Semitic position of Guillaume Apollinaire is well-known. In an 1899 letter, he boasts to Toussaint Luca that he tried to provoke Henri Rochefort, who was reading La Libre Parole, by deploying L'Aurore in front of him but, as the young Dreyfusard regrets, without daring to engage the controversy. In 1902, he publicly marked his fraternity with the Jewish people with a new publication in La Revue blanche, “Le Passant de Prague": “I love Jews because all Jews suffer everywhere”. Then in Alcools, he will dedicate a poem to the Hebrew religion: "La Synagogue". But it is undoubtedly through his poem “Le Juif latin”, published in L'Hérésiarque et Cie that Apollinaire poetically reveals the essence of his particular link with Judaism: that he shares the condition of eternal stranger, the feeling of uprooting and the search for identity.
It may, therefore, seem very surprising that this poet, whose only trace of political commitment was in favor of Dreyfus, dedicated his work to a La Libre Parole journalist, even if he is a literary critic.
And in fact, La Libre Parole does not contain literary columns!
A few months before the poet's death, this laconic inscription thus proves to be a formidable and final scoff of poetic impertinence
to political intolerance...
First edition, illustrated with an allegorical frontispiece by Dubois and 21 engraved plates by Azélie Hubert after Julie Ribault, depicting blind individuals engaged in various activities and the tools used for their education. On the verso of the front free endpaper, a manuscript note referencing the life of Saint Jerome by Colombey, concerning the life of a blind philosopher.
Pastiche Bradel-style binding in waxed, speckled beige paper, typical of the period. Contemporary brown sheepskin title label. Untrimmed copy, with full margins. From p. 190 onward, a faint angular water stain appears and continues through to p. 204; otherwise, a clean and bright copy.
Handwritten signed letter addressed to Docteur Francis Mars: "j'ai du mal à vous pardonner le mal que vous vous êtes fait à vous-même !” “I find it difficult to forgive you for the harm you have done to yourself!”
Paris 17 November 1966, 20.7 x 13.5 cm, one page on a leaf, envelope attached
Handwritten letter signed by Natalie Clifford Barney addressed to Doctor Francis Mars, a few lines written in black in on a leaf of headed paper from 20 rue Jacob (Paris VIe), envelope attached. Central fold from having been sent.
"Cher ami Francis, j'ai du mal à vous pardonner le mal que vous vous êtes fait à vous-même ! Natalie (PS: Je ne serai à Nice que vers le 5 déc.)” “My dear friend Francis, I find it difficult to forgive you for the harm you have done to yourself! Natalie (PS: I will not be in Nice until around 5 Dec.) ”
Francis Mars, from Nice, was a mutual friend of Natalie Clifford Barney and her companion, the artist-painter Romaine Brooks. The two women, who had been in a relationship for almost fifty years, did not live together: Natalie lived in Paris and only joined Romaine in Nice for the winter.