Gift Ideas – Inscribed Copies

First edition of the French translation, for which no deluxe paper was printed.
A pleasant copy.
We include the second volume, covering the period 1979-1994, published in 2005.
Rare handwritten signature of Alexandre Solzhenitsyn on the title page.

Ink and watercolour portrait of the poet Paul Verlaine by his friend Marie Crance, bearing the artist's signature and the handwritten caption “Paul Verlaine à l'hôpital”.

A single sheet, presented in a frame with a mount. An inscription on the back of the frame—“written in the margin (by the framer): ‘For Messrs. Thénot and Lercey, 25 April 1894’”—provides a likely terminus post quem for the drawing.
 
Marie Crance (1860–1945), nicknamed Marie-aux-fleurs, was at the time the companion of the illustrator Frédéric-Auguste Cazals, whom she married in 1912. A laundress, maid, and occasional singer in the poet’s favourite dives, she was also a loyal friend and caretaker to Verlaine. She tended his ailing leg when he avoided doctors and took refuge in modest hotels on the outskirts of Paris. Cheerful, unpretentious, and full of life, she also visited him during his hospital stays at Broussais, Tenon, Cochin, and Saint-Antoine, where she made this bust portrait of the poet—his piercing gaze and stiffened figure shaped by age and chronic rheumatism. Verlaine dedicated a sonnet to her in the second edition of Dédicaces, along with a charming drawing (Verlaine, Lettres inédites [...], ed. Georges Zayed, 1976, p. 45):
 
« Je veux donc dire de ma voix la mieux timbrée,
Et les tracer du bec de ma meilleure plume,
Vos mérites et vos vertus dans l’amertume
Douce de vous savoir d’un autre énamourée
Mais d’un autre... »
 
A moving portrait of the wandering poet, curiously resilient, his form dissolving into the softness of the watercolour.

First edition of the theatrical adaptation.
Bound in half red shagreen, spine in four compartments set with gilt stipples adorned with double gilt spine panels, marbled paper plates, marbled endpapers, contemporary binding.
Precious handwritten presentation signed by George Sand: “à monsieur Huart en lui demandant pardon de tout le mal que je lui donne.” “To Mr Huart asking for his forgiveness for all the harm I am causing him.”

Provenance: from the Grandsire library with its ex-libris.

First edition, one of 230 numbered copies on Auvergne paper, ours one of 75 not-for-sale copies, the only printing after 10 copies on China and a few hors commerce copies; this copy specially printed for René Daumal.
 
Frontispiece illustrated with an original lithograph by Étienne Cournault.
Very faint, insignificant foxing to the margins of the covers.
A handsome copy complete with its original wraparound band.
 
Exceptional and superb signed autograph inscription dated 27 December 1936 from René Daumal to his future partner Véra Milanova : « à Véra Milanova – à toi Véra, d'abord ces anciens mensonges (que je n'ai pu nourrir qu'en ton absence) pour leur faire une sépulture définitive ; puis ces quelques ombres de vérités que tu m'as aidé à comprendre ; mais surtout, Véra, je préfère te dédier une grande page blanche, neuve, invisible, où nous écrirons sans mots notre histoire. Prends ce petit tombeau d'un ancien René Daumal, de la main de ton Nasha. 27 décembre 1936. »

First edition for which no grand papier (deluxe) copies were printed.
Small marginal pieces missing at the top of the first board, a clear remnant of adhesive paper at the bottom of the first endpaper.
Copy complete with the facsimile at the end of the volume.

Precious handwritten inscription signed by Gabriele d'Annunzio to Natalie Clifford Barney: « à miss Barney et au Temple de l'Amitié attentive, cette légère torpille ‘sine litteris' est offerte par la ‘tête d'ivoire'. Gabriele d'Annunzio » (“To Miss Barney and the attentive Temple of Friendship, this light ‘sine litteris' torpedo is offered by the ‘ivory head'. Gabriele d'Annunzio”

Very beautiful testimony to the friendship between Gabriele d'Annunzio and Natalie Clifford Barney, who probably met through the painter Romaine Brooks, temporary lover of the “ivory head” but also of the Amazon for more than fifty years.
In 1909, Natalie Clifford Barney acquired the Temple of Friendship at 20 Rue Jacob and set up her literary salon, which would be held every Friday and would welcome the greatest literary and artistic personalities of the time: Salomon Reinach, Auguste Rodin, Rainer Maria Rilke, Colette, James Joyce, Paul Valéry, Pierre Louÿs, Anatole France, Robert de Montesquiou, Gertrude Stein, Somerset Maugham, T. S. Eliot, Jean Cocteau, Max Jacob, André Gide, Nancy Cunard, Peggy Guggenheim, Marie Laurencin, Paul Claudel, Adrienne Monnier, Sylvia Beach, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Truman Capote, Françoise Sagan, Marguerite Yourcenar... and, of course, Gabriele d'Annunzio whom she greatly admired.
She paid tribute to him by devoting a chapter of her Aventures de l'esprit (1929) to him: “D'Annunzio, a precious little old ivory object, works with the constancy of a monk who watches over his God.”

First edition, one of the publisher’s press copies.

Some light spotting to the boards and spine.

Exceptional signed autograph inscription from Raymond Queneau to his very close friend and biographer Jean Queval, himself a leading figure and co-founder of Oulipo.

This dedication is followed by a second one — in English and heavily corrected — by Jean Queval: "To the [?], in friendship. NB. I smoke no more. This is a rather nice book, one on which I worked. There's also Beowulf. There is a university in Limoges. Untest uncheck ! Nan is none too well."

First edition, printed on vélin d'Angoulême paper, with the usual misprints and including the six condemned poems, one of the few copies given to the author and “intended for friends who do not deliver literary services”.
Full emerald morocco binding, signed by Marius Michel, original wrappers preserved.

Exceptional inscription to a childhood friend, banker and intellectual, one of the rare contemporary inscriptions that were not motivated by judicial necessity or editorial interests.
Indeed, even the few examples on papier hollande were largely devoted to strategic gifts in order to counter or reduce the wrath of justice that, in June 1857, had not yet returned its decision. Poulet-Malassis will hold a bitter memory of it: “Baudelaire got his hands on all thick paper copies and addressed them to more or less influential people as a means of corruption. Since they have not got him out of trouble, I believe he would do well to ask for them back.”
Baudelaire's correspondence makes it possible to define quite precisely the different types of inscriptions the poet made on the publication of his collection. He himself sent a list to de Broise to mention those to whom the press deliveries were dedicated, mainly possible judicial intercessors and influential literary critics. The poet then requires “twenty-five [copies] on ordinary paper, intended for friends who do not deliver literary services.” A letter to his mother tells us that he only got twenty. Some of them were sent in June 1857 to his friends, including one for Louis-Ludovic Tenré. Others were saved by the poet or offered late like the ones for Achille Bourdilliat and Jules de Saint-Félix.
If Tenré, this childhood friend whom Baudelaire has just found again in December 1856, is honored with one of the poet's rare personal copies of the Fleurs du mal publication, the three misprints he immediately noticed having been carefully corrected by hand, it is not on account of a service delivered or in anticipation of an immediate benefit. However, as always with Baudelaire, neither did he send his masterpiece to his boarding companion from Louis-le-Grand school as a simple “reminder of good friendship.”
As early as 1848, Louis-Ludovic Tenré took over from his father, the publisher Louis Tenré, who, like other major publishers, moved into investment, providing loans and discounts exclusively for those in the book industry. These bookseller-bankers played a key role in the fragile publishing economy and contributed to the extreme diversity of literary production in the nineteenth century, supporting the activities of small but bold publishers and liquidating other major judicial clashes.
In December 1856, Baudelaire tells Poulet-Malassis that he had deposited an expired banknote with this “old school mate,” which Tenré, out of friendship, agreed to accept. It was the initial advance for “the printing of one thousand copies [of a collection] of verses entitled Les Fleurs du Mal.” With this copy hot off the presses, Baudelaire then offers Tenré the precious result of the work discounted by his new banker. It is the beginning of a long financial relationship. Amongst all of Baudelaire's discounters, Louis-Ludovic Tenré will be the poet's favorite and the only one to whom an autographed work will be sent.
Nicolas Stokopf, in his work Les Patrons du Second Empire, banquiers et financiers parisiens, dedicates a chapter to Louis-Ludovic Tenré and evokes the privileged relationship between the poet and this unusual and scholarly financier, Paraguay consul and Latin America specialist, also the author of a significant work, Les états américains, published for the 1867 Exposition Universelle, of which he was a commissioner.
Even the poet's countless financial hazards will never cause lasting damage to their agreement. The trust this publisher's son he puts in Baudelaire is down to Tenré's interest in literature, as is evidenced by this excellently preserved copy given to him by Baudelaire. Quoted many times in his correspondence, and in his “carnet” – a kind of poetic diary written between 1861 and 1863 – Louis-Ludovic Tenré quickly became the main financial interlocutor for the poet whose life is, nevertheless, affected by the fear of his creditors.
“There is an astounding incoherence between Baudelaire's blinding intelligence and the chaos of his material life. He spends his time in his correspondence chasing money, his letters are almost exclusively about that. He is incapable of managing a budget of 200 francs per month and is in debt everywhere, even though he is not entitled to it, since he is under guardianship. Worse still: his annuity serves him only to pay the interest on the loans he takes out at very high rates. It is a vicious circle: he himself digs his own financial black hole.” (Baudelaire, Marie-Christine Natta).
The 1857 signed copies of Fleurs du Mal are amongst the most prestigious works and have for a long time had a prominent place in major private collections (Marquis du Bourg de Bozas, Jacques Doucet, Sacha Guitry, Pierre Berès, Colonel Sickles, Pierre Bergé, Bernard Loliée, Pierre Leroy, Jean Bonna, etc.).
This work's utmost importance in the history of literature, well beyond French literature, as well as the particular history of its publication, have contributed to the early interest in the first edition and even more so for the rare copies given out by the author.
In 1860, during the auction of all of Custine's property, who died in August 1857, the poems of a salacious poet dedicated to a writer of poor moral standards were little appreciated. However, by 1865, Baudelaire himself states that “for two years we have been asking everywhere [Les Fleurs du Mal], and in sales, they make quite a lot”. And by 1873 and 1874, the Gautier and Daumier library sales mention their precious copies and “the handwritten ex-dono” with which they are adorned.
Since then, the inscribed copies have been described and referenced, which has enabled bibliographers to count and allocate 55 copies of the first edition of Fleurs du Mal that were handed out by Baudelaire. Amongst them, some have been destroyed (like Mérimée's copy, during a fire at his home), others are only mentioned in the correspondence of the person to whom they are dedicated, but were never known (particularly the copies given to Flaubert, Deschamps, Custine and Molènes), several of them only made a brief appearance in the nineteenth century before disappearing (amongst which we include the copies of Honoré Daumier, Louis Ulbach and Champfleury). Finally, some major international institutions, libraries and museums acquired them very early on for their collections (including those of Saint-Victor, Le Maréchal, Nadar, Pincebourde, etc.).
Since the Second World War, only thirty or so copies of Fleurs du Mal featuring an inscription by Baudelaire have appeared in libraries, on public sale or in bookshop catalogs, each time being subject to specific attention from all of the professionals, international institutions and bibliophiles that have been informed.
Perfectly set, with its wrappers, in a Jansenist binding by one of the major bookbinders of the end of the 19th century, Louis-Ludovic Tenré's very beautiful copy, one of twenty reserved for the author, enriched with precious handwritten corrections and given by Baudelaire on publication, appears as a remarkable witness to the specific conditions under which this legendary work was published.

First edition, one of 30 numbered copies on pur fil paper, this copy one of 10 hors commerce, the only grand papier (deluxe) copies.
A nice copy despite the very slightly sunned spine.
Autograph inscription dated and signed by Marguerite Yourcenar to Maurice Bourdel, director of publishing house Plon, and his wife : "... cette Electre perdue dans "un monde où l'ordre n'est pas"

Exceptionally rare autograph satirical poem by Louis Aragon, entitled Distiques pour une Carmagnole de la Honte, written between September 1944 and February 1945. 26 lines penned in black ink on a single leaf, with a note from the author in blue ink at the foot of the page.
Our manuscript belongs to a group of thirteen poems composed during the first half of 1945, intended for publication in a poetry anthology (Aragon, published by Pierre Seghers in Paris, Collection “Poètes d’aujourd’hui” no. 2, 20 July 1945). It was sent by Aragon as a working copy to his editor and friend Claude Roy. This autograph poem is the only known manuscript of the Distiques, with neither manuscript nor proofs held in the extensive Triolet-Aragon archives at the Bibliothèque nationale de France.

First collective edition, for which no deluxe paper copies were issued, one of the press service copies.
Preface by Louis Aragon.
Precious autograph inscription signed by Louis Aragon to his friend Charles Dobzynski, whose wedding witness he was, along with Elsa Triolet: "A Dob, Louis."

 

First edition.

Black half morocco binding, spine with four raised bands adorned with gilt dotted fillets and double gilt compartments decorated at the corners, gilt date and the inscription "Ex. de J. Drouet" at the tail, marbled paper boards and endpapers, preserved covers and spine, top edge gilt, binding signed by René Aussourd.
Some minor foxing, mainly at the beginning and end of the volume.

Precious signed and inscribed copy by Victor Hugo to Juliette Drouet, the great love of his life: ‘To you, my lady. Humble homage. V.'

This copy comes from the library of Pierre Duché, who acquired Juliette Drouet's entire library and commissioned René Aussourd to bind the volumes uniformly, marking each with an identifying inscription at the foot of the spine.

Bookplates pasted on a pastedown and a flyleaf.
In late 1878, after more than forty years together, Victor Hugo and Juliette Drouet finally moved in together at Avenue d'Eylau, in the small town house where the poet would spend his final years. "From that moment on, Juliette's life became little more than an unbroken sorrow, a servitude of every hour. She herself suffered from stomach cancer, knowing she was condemned—to die of hunger!" (Louis Guimbaud, Victor Hugo et Juliette Drouet, Paris, 1927). Despite her illness and severe physical weakness, she remained devotedly at Hugo's side as his caregiver. It was during this time that Bastien Lepage painted a strikingly realistic portrait of her: "From her goddess-like face, once serene and noble, the relentless illness had made a frail human visage, drawn and hollowed, furrowed with wrinkles—each one telling a story of pain." (ibid.)

Religions et religions was published two years before Juliette's death; is was one of the last books Hugo dedicated to the unwavering love of his life. In a final tribute to her lifelong devotion, he later offered her a photograph inscribed: "Fifty years—that is the most beautiful marriage."

Copy from the most intimate source.

First edition, one of the press service copies.
Precious signed autograph inscription from Paul Éluard to Benjamin Fondane.
Spine with three small expertly repaired tears, of no consequence.
A moving dedication from poet to poet, written on the eve of the war during which the two friends would contribute together to poetic resistance journals such as l'Honneur des poètes.
The deportation and death of Fondane in 1944, along with many other artist and poet friends, would profoundly affect Éluard, who composed in their memory a magnificent poetic tribute, "Eternité de ceux que je n'ai pas revus," listing the names of each of the departed:
"Visages clairs souvenirs sombres
Puis comme un grand coup sur les yeux
Visages de papier brûlé
Dans la mémoire rien que cendres
La rose froide de l'oubli
Pourtant Desnos pourtant Péri
Crémieux Fondane Pierre Unik
Sylvain Itkine Jean Jausion
Grou-Radenez Lucien Legros
Le temps le temps insupportable
Politzer Decour Robert Blache
Serge Meyer Mathias Lübeck
Maurice Bourdet et Jean Frayse
Dominique Corticchiato
Et Max Jacob et Saint-Pol Roux
Rien que le temps de n'être plus
Et rien que le temps d'être tout"

First edition on ordinary paper.

A few small spots of foxing, and a faint dampstain along the right margin affecting most leaves of the volume.

Black 3/4 morocco binding, spine with five raised bands framed in black, gilt date at foot, marbled paper boards framed in gilt, comb-marbled endpapers and pastedowns, covers preserved and bound on stubs, top edge gilt, slipcase trimmed with black morocco, marbled paper slipcase boards, binding signed P. Goy & C. Vilaine.
Very rare signed and inscribed copy to Madame Charpentier, his publisher’s wife: "... son bien dévoué et respectueux..."

First edition, one of 100 numbered copies on vellum, ours unnumbered, the only deluxe papers after 15 copies on Japon.
Illustrated with a frontispiece drawing by Salvador Dalí.
Precious signed autograph presentation from Paul Eluard to René Char : « Exemplaire de mon ami René Char. Paul Eluard. »

First edition on ordinary paper, despite a false statement of third edition.
Handsome copy signed and inscribed by Marcel Proust to René Boylesve.
Housed in a half kaki morocco over marbled paper boards chemise and slipcase (with flaps), spine very slighlty faded with gilt inscriptions of provenance at foot, lined with light green paper.
One very pale angular dampstain.
Provenance : Heilbronn's library, with his ex-libris.

First edition, an advance (service de presse) copy.

Three small wormholes and a clear dampstain to margin of upper cover, one joint cracked at foot.
Retaining its prière d'insérer. 
Very precious and moving autograph inscription signed and dated by Maurice Blanchot to his mother and sister: "Personne ne reçoit tant de Dieu que celui qui est entièrement mort. Saint Grégoire. Pour sa chère maman et sa vieille Marg, en toute affection. Maurice [No one receives God so fully as someone who is entirely dead. Saint Gregory. For his darling mother and old Marg, with all love. Maurice]."

First edition, one of 100 hors commerce numbered copies on BFK de Rives paper, the only grand papier (deluxe) copies with 662 other copies on BFK de Rives paper.
Precious copy inscribed and dated October 1966 by Beckett to his friend the painter Geer (Van Velde) and his wife Lise.
Nice copy.
“What to say of the sliding planes, the shimmering contours, the cut-out figures in the fog, the balance that any little thing can break, breaking and re-forming themselves under our very eyes? How to talk about the colors that breathe and pant? Of the swarming stasis? Of this world without weight, without force, without shadow? Here everything moves, swims, fells, comes back, falls apart, re-forms. Everything stops, non-stop. One would say it's the revolt of the internal molecules of a stone a split second before its disintegration. That is literature” (“The Van Veldes' Art, or the World and the Trousers”, in Cahiers d'Art n°11-12, Paris 1945).
Beckett here is not talking – despite how it may appear – about his literary oeuvre, but about the paintings of Geer Van Velde, going on to add a few lines later “[Bram] Van Velde paints distance. G[eer] Van Velde paints succession.” This elegy, published on the occasion of the double exhibition of the Van Veldes (Geer at Maeght's and Bram at the Galerie Mai) is the first important text on these painters, more or less unknown to the public at the time: “We've only just started spouting nonsense about the Van Velde brothers, and I'm the first. It's an honor.” This is also the first critical text written directly in French by a young Irish writer who had not, as yet, published anything in France.
Thus, the first and most important of Beckett's writings on art, composed at the dawn of his literary career, establishes – right from the start – a fundamental relationship between his developing work and his friends' art: “Thus this text has often been read in a hollow or in the mirror, as one of the rare designations of Beckett's poetry (to come) by the man himself, a sort of anamorphic program of writing,” (Un pantalon cousu de fil blanc : Beckett et l'épreuve critique by Pierre Vilar).
A real statement of dramaturgical intent, this fundamental text whose introspective value Beckett lays out from the introduction on (“one does nothing but tell stories with words”) ushers in the writer's most fruitful creative period. In essence, like Apollinaire and Cendrars, Beckett draws from the artistic problems of his contemporaries the catalyst of his own future writing through “the deepest questioning of narrative, figurative or poetical presuppositions” (Pascale Casanova in Beckett l'abstracteur).
The major influence of modern painting on the narrative structure – or destructuring – of Beckett's drama and novels would be pointed out and examined by a number of thinkers, among them Gilles Deleuze, Julia Kristeva and Maurice Blanchot. It was, in fact, with the art of the Van Veldes (first Geer then Bram) that Beckett began to formalize this desire to translate the pictorial question into dramaturgical terms. Thus it was that he rejected Nicolas de Staël's set design for Godot, since: “the set must come out of the text without adding anything to it. As for the visual comfort of the audience, you can imagine how much I care. Do you really think you can listen with the backdrop of Bram's set, or see anything other than him?” (Letter to Georges Duthuit, 1952).
When he met Geer in 1937, “Beckett was going through a major existential crisis and had just been reworking his first novel, Murphy, which had been rejected by a great many publishers. He was lost in alcohol, leaving Ireland and moving once and for all to Paris” (Le Pictural dans l'œuvre de Beckett, Lassaad Jamoussi). He returned from a long artistic journey in Germany, where he was marked by classical works as well as contemporary art – it was during this journey that he discovered Caspar David Friedrich's Two Men Contemplating the Moon, his source for Waiting for Godot.
Art was thus at the heart of his creative thinking and the friendship that would tie him to Geer and later his brother Bram and their sister Jacoba (with whom his relationship may have been more than merely friendly), and which would profoundly influence his life and writing. His first writing on art is a short piece on Geer Van Velde, whose works he pressed on his new lover Peggy Guggenheim when she set up her new London gallery. Despite the relative failure of the exhibition (which followed Kandinsky's), he got his friend a one-year scholarship from Peggy. James Knowlson even thinks that “if Beckett maintained close links with Peggy for a long time, it was first and foremost because she could be convinced to give his artist friends a serious helping hand, starting with Geer Van Velde” (in Beckett, p. 474). Enigmatic, the little piece that Beckett wrote at the time at Peggy's request already contained a dramaturgical kernel of thought: “Believes painting should mind its own business, i.e. colors. i.e. no more say Picasso than Fabritius, Vermeer. Or inversely.”
Slower to develop, his friendship with Bram and interest in the latter's painting slowly changed Beckett's outlook on Geer's art and when, ten years after his first meeting the brothers, he wrote The World and the Trousers, Beckett brought up to date a duality symbolized by the title, taken from an anecdote given as a legend to the article. The world is the “imperfect” work of God, made in six days, to which the tailor compares the perfection of his trousers, made over six months.
The link between this anecdote and the Van Velde brothers is perhaps to be found in the second essay Beckett devoted to them, in 1948, “Peintres de l'empêchement” [Painters of the Problem] (Derrière le miroir n° 11/12): “One of them said: I cannot see the object in order to represent it because I am who I am. There are always two sorts of problems – the object-problem and the ‘eye-problem'…Geer Van Velde is an artist of the former sort…Bram Van Velde of the latter.”
Resistance of the object or impotence of the artist, this tale, the “true primary narrative core in kôan zen form,” (P. Vilar) would later find itself scattered throughout Beckett's work and would more specifically take center stage in Endgame, whose similarity, by the by, with the art of Geer Van Velde was noted by Roger Blin. “At the time, he was friends with the Dutch brothers Geer and Bram Van Velde, both painters. Geer was a painter in the style of Mondrian. I have the feeling that Beckett saw Endgame as a painting by Mondrian with very tidy partitions, geometric separations and musical geometry,” (R. Blin, “Conversations avec Lynda Peskine” in Revue d'Esthétique).
Beckett's growing affinity for Bram Van Velde's work and the energy he put into promoting his work, especially to the galerie Maeght or his friend the art historian Georges Duthuit, was no doubt to the detriment of his relationship with Geer. Nonetheless, despite some misunderstandings, their friendship remained unbroken; as did the silent but anxious dialogue that the writer maintained with the art of the younger Van Velde brother, two of whose large canvases he owned. “The big painting by Geer finally gave me a sign. Shame that it should have turned out so badly. But perhaps that's not true after all” (letter to Georges Duthuit, March 1950). “Geer shows great courage. Ideas that are a little cutting, but maybe only in appearance. I have always had a great respect for them. But not enough, I think” (letter to Mania Péron, August 1951)

The death of Geer Van Velde in 1977 affected Beckett deeply and coincided with a period of intense nostalgia during which the writer decided to give himself over to “a great clear-out” of his house so as to live between “walls as grey as their owner.” Confiding his state of mind to his friend, the stage designer Jocelyn Herbert, Beckett bore witness to the indefatigable affection he had nurtured for the painter over forty years: “more canvases on display, including the big Geer Van Velde behind the piano.”

A precious witness to the friendship of these fellow travelers who had, ever since checking the veracity of the game of chess played by Murphy and Mr. Endon for Beckett's first novel, tackled together the great challenges of modernity: “It's that, deep down, they don't care about painting. What they're interested in is the human condition. We'll come back to that” (Beckett on the Van Velde brothers in The World and the Trousers). + de photos

First edition, one of 90 copies on Holland paper, ours being one of a few lettered hors commerce copies.
Bradel binding in half brown box, smooth spine, decorated paper boards, brown endpapers and pastedowns, original covers preserved, top edge gilt, binding signed by Goy & Vilaine.
Precious autograph inscription signed by Paul Valéry: « A Victoria Ocampo, - a sus piès de Vd - ce petit rien qu'elle a bien voulu désirer. »
A superb dedication that marks the beginning of the enduring friendship between the two writers, beyond all differences.
At Valéry's death in 1945, Victoria Ocampo would recall their first meeting in December 1928 during a writers’ dinner to which the young Argentine, newly arrived in Paris, had been invited.
A founding moment of their friendship and of the mutual admiration testified by their moving correspondence, it is against the measure of this first impression that Victoria Ocampo described her relationship with the poet and « les sentiments contradictoires que suscitèrent en [elle] la rencontre de l'œuvre et de l'homme qui la conçut : émerveillement, étranglement, admiration, accablement, bonheur. Effets, sur une Sud-Américaine, amoureuse du génie français, d'une des plus grandes intelligences européennes, lorsqu'elle s'en approcha - un peu tremblante - comme d'un feu qui vous attire et vous tient à distance du même coup. »
There is no doubt that Valéry’s impression was no less intense, since he addressed to her, soon after, this humble dedication reminiscent of Victor Hugo’s treasured inscriptions to Juliette Drouet « à vos pieds, Ma Dame ».
As the fallen poet’s epistolary confidante during the harsh years of war, Ocampo would pay him, at his death, a fervent homage « par-delà l'intelligence et la bêtise, par-delà la vie. Avec mon respect, mon culte, ma tendre affection si nouée à l'humain. Avec tout ce qui en moi, tant que je vivrai, ne cessera de le sentir vivant, ne cessera d'être le lieu périssable où son immortalité commence. »
A few small spots of foxing.
A perfectly preserved copy.

First edition.
Handsome signed and dated autograph inscription in French from Victoria Ocampo to the singer (Jane) Bathori, who was the partner of the comedian Andrée Tainsy : "... qui a travaillé pour la musique en Argentine with tant de générosité and de chaleur..."
Iconography.
Spine sunned.

First edition of the german translation by Paul Celan, printed on vergé.

Slight foxings, not serious, on one cover of the slipcase.
A good copy.
Autograph inscription, signed and dated, by Paul Celan to the surrealiust painter Edgar Jené and his wife : "Für Erica und Edgar Jené herzlich, Paul Celan. Paris, am 30. Oktober 1960".

First edition on ordinary paper.
Handsome autograph inscription from Paul Eluard to Raymond Queneau on the first volume: "... ce livre qui nous rajeunit...[…this book that makes us young again…]"

First edition, of which no copies on deluxe paper were issued.

Spine slightly faded as usual.
Precious signed presentation inscription from Eugène Ionesco to Raymond Queneau: "Pour Raymond Queneau, le Satrape, avec mon admiration affectueuse (et que tant je voudrais revoir plus que de temps à autre). Eugène Ionesco."

First edition on ordinary paper.

Some scattered foxing.
Bradel binding in full combed paper, smooth spine, navy morocco lettering-piece framed with gilt fillets, elegant pastiche binding signed by Thomas Boichot.
Rare and precious autograph inscription signed by Hector Malot: "A Guy de Maupassant, son dévoué confrère."

First edition of 30 copies printed on Japon paper of this offprint of L'Artiste for November 1890.
Contemporary Bradel binding of beige paper boards, ex-libris to pastedown.
Autograph inscription signed from Paul Verlaine to Edmond Bonnaffé on the justification of printing at end: “Exemplaire de Monsieur E. Bonnaffé. P. Verlaine [Monsieur E. Bonnaffé's copy. P. Verlaine]”. Edmond Bonnaffé (1825-1903) was a wealthy collector and noted historian of art, very close to the artistic movements of the age.
These pages by Verlaine are a critical review of the book by Roger Marx of the same name (Paris, 1890). In it, the poet discusses the great names in Art Nouveau, such as Bapst, Chaplet and Gallé. But above all, he writes his famous condemnation of the Eiffel Tower: “This skeletal belfry, that will never outlive, to the contrary indeed! the archi-centenarians of France and Belgium…”. Indeed, on 14 February 1887, Paul Verlaine signed a manifesto of protest published by Le Temps, along with other personalities in the arts and literature, including Charles-Marie-René Leconte de Lisle, Guy de Maupassant, Alexandre Dumas fils, Sully Prudhomme, and so on.
Illustrated with figures in text.
A good and rare copy.
Provenance: collections of Edmond Bonnaffé (ex dono), André Lefèvre (his sale, Paris 16 November 1966), Colonel Daniel Sickles (his sale, Paris 28 & 29 October 1992), Edouard-Henri Fischer.

First edition, one of 20 numbered copies on vélin de cuve paper reserved for the “XX” bibliophile group, the tirage de tête.
A good copy complete with its double covers by Albin Michel and the “XX” bibliophile group.
Joints of chemise rubbed, modern slipcase, tiny insignificant worming to endpapers.

Signed by the author on justification page.

First edition.
Contemporary red cloth Bradel binding by Pierson, spine with gilt floral motif, date and double gilt fillet to foot, black shagreen title label.
A little light spotting, principally affecting the first and final few leaves.
Ex libris of Adolphe Racot on inside upper cover.
Concerning Victor Hugo, Alfred de Musset, George Sand, François-René de Chateaubriand, Théophile Gautier, Alexandre Dumas fils, and so on…

Autograph inscription from Emile Zola to Adolphe Racot.