They are called deluxe papers, limited editions, tirages de têtes or simply first editions. They were printed in small numbers on special paper and carefully preserved, from the very beginning, by the first readers and admirers of these literary geniuses. These copies are the origin of the work and its legacy.
Very rare and highly sought-after first edition according to Clouzot, for which no copies on large paper were issued.
Full red morocco binding, spine with five raised bands, gilt rolls on headcaps, inner dentelle border on off-white morocco pastedowns enhanced with a red morocco mosaic fillet and quintuple gilt fillets, the fillet and quintuple gilt fillets interlacing at corners, gilt fillet border on turn-ins, ivory watered silk endpapers, iron-grey wrappers and spine preserved (Clouzot notes two states of wrappers: iron-grey - the rarer - and bluish-grey), all edges gilt, double gilt fillets on board edges, half red morocco slipcase with bands, spine with five raised bands, pebbled paper boards, red morocco-edged box, beige leather interior, pebbled paper boards, magnificent binding signed Huser. Provenances: from the libraries of Raoul Simonson and José Peraya with their bookplates pasted on a pastedown.
A superb copy, complete with its rare iron-grey wrappers and the publisher's catalogue which is very often lacking, bound in a splendid full morocco binding with morocco pastedowns and mosaic work by Huser.
First edition, one of 350 numbered copies on deckle-edged paper, ours specially printed for General Koenig.
Bradel binding in full white cardboard simulating vellum, spine with four compartments decorated with panels outlined in red, red fillet frame on boards, front cover preserved, top edge red.
Precious autograph inscription from Marcel Bleustein, who took the pseudonym Blanchet during the Resistance, to General Koenig, the great victor of the battle of Bir Hakeim: "Pour monsieur le général Koenig, en témoignage de ma grande admiration et de mon respectueux attachement. Son ancien officier de presse Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet le 24 Nov. 1948" [For General Koenig, as a testimony of my great admiration and respectful attachment. His former press officer Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet, November 24, 1948].
Moving tribute from a Resistance fighter to one of the very first military victors over the Axis forces.
First edition first issue for which no grand papier (deluxe copies) were printed, one of the rare service de presse (advance copies).
Some very discreet restorations to spine, paper browned, some discreet traces folds at the bottom of some leaves.
A handsome copy, as issued. The book is housed in a slipcase signed by Julie Nadot, reproducing the original design of the cover and spine.
This first edition of L'Étranger was printed on 21 April, 1942 with a run of 4,400 copies: 400 advance copies (service de presse), 500 copies without statement and 3,500 copies with false statements from the second to eighth “edition”.
The advance copies, not intended for sale, do not include the indication of price [25 francs] on the back of the cover.
First edition, a Service de Presse (advance) copy.
Iconography at rear.
Precious autograph inscription signed by André Malraux to the diplomat and great resistance fighter, faithful among the faithful of General De Gaulle, Gaston Palewski to whom this work is dedicated below the printed dedication: "C'est pour vous distraire. Vous recevrez vos exemplaires convenables la semaine prochaine" ["This is to entertain you. You will receive your proper copies next week"].
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...
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.
