Seven Deadly Sins

“Yes I have sarcasm in my words, yes I do not know how to flatter and bend my back, how to beg in official salons […] I am nothing but a braying schemer, but if I had submitted - yes I would be comfortable."

Long autograph letter dated August 1896 and signed by Paul Gauguin to painter Daniel de Monfreid. Four pages in black ink on two lined sheets.
Small tears to margins not affecting the text, traces of folds inherent to sending.
In the midst of his descent into hell, abandoned in his Tahitian artificial paradise, Gauguin feels cursed : “Definitely, I was born under a bad star.”, he laments. His quest for primitive freedom leaves him in destitution and misery. Suffering agony, the painter sends paintings to one of his few supporters, his faithful friend Daniel de Monfreid - but writes the wrong address...
Published in Lettres de Paul Gauguin à Georges-Daniel de Monfreid, 1918, p. 146, n° XXIII; our letter reveals the name of Émile Schuffenecker, his friend and associate on the Paris stock exchange and then Pont-Aven - anonymized in the published version - whom Gauguin vilifies on numerous occasions in these pages.
This exceptional missive was written in Tahiti, where the painter had returned the previous year, bidding a final farewell to the old Europe. Gauguin had just come out from a stay in hospital in Papeete to treat his bruised legs following the beating he had received in Concarneau two years earlier for defending his muse, Annah the Javanese. The painter could not escape the aftermath of this altercation and suffered from a terrible purulent eczema on his leg, as well as syphilis, drowning his torments in alcohol. The letter is a perfect example of Gauguin's correspondence from the summer of 1896 which "smells of the fever that has seized a mind overheated by pain and lack of sleep" (David Haziot). In his confusion, the painter misspelt the address of Monfreid's studio at the Cité Fleurie, a famous chalet-like artists' residence where Gauguin had stayed : “I sent you a bunch of paintings last month. I'm afraid for them because it seems to me that I put 55 Bd Arago instead of 65” This mailing included his composition Eihaha Ohipa, painted in his studio in Punaauia and now kept at the Pushkin Museum in Moscow. Shipped via a naval officer - fees to be paid by Monfreid - the paintings did not arrive until November. Beyond his feverish fears, Gauguin delivers in these lines a true manifesto of his integrity as an artist - the perfect counterpart to his famous Christlike self-portrait Near Golgotha, painted around the same period. To him, his destiny and generosity are nothing short of Christ-like: “in the most difficult moments of my life, I more than shared with unfortunate people and never had any reward other than complete abandonment”. He had in fact helped display Schuffenecker's paintings in Impressionist exhibitions, saved his friend Laval from suicide and opened his purse to so many others. Instead of returning the favor, Schuffenecker prefers to feel sorry for himself: “Schuff really wrote me a crazy and unfair letter and I don't know what to answer because he is a sick mind [...] he would be more unhappy than me who has glory, strength and health. Let's talk about it! I'm good at making others jealous, he says”. Gauguin, who had always refused to make concessions and compromise, is finally betrayed by one of his closest relations, Schuffenecker, who becomes in the letter a true Judas Iscariot: “Schuff has just made a useless petition, I believe, for the State to come to my aid. This is the thing that can offend me the most. I'm asking friends to help me out for the time it takes to get back the money I'm owed, and their efforts to recover it, but begging the State was never my intention”. The painter reaches a point of no return, not only bruised in his flesh, but also in his self-esteem: “All my efforts to fight outside the official arena, the dignity I have strived for all my life, are now losing their character. From this day I am nothing but a braying schemer, but if I had submitted - yes I would be comfortable. Really, this is a sorrow that I didn't intend to have. Definitely, I was born under a bad star.” After this final abandonment, Gauguin gave free rein to his artistic and sensual frenzy in his Maison du Jouir in the Marquesas.
Suffering and penniless, Gauguin proclaims his distress and shattered pride - a Nabi Christ abandoning his cross, ready to fall into lust and the intoxication of the paintbrush.

Autograph letter dated and signed by André Frénaud addressed to art critic Georges Raillard (12 lines in blue ballpoint pen) regarding the publication of his latest work L'étape dans la clairière.
Fold marks inherent to the letter's envelope placement, envelope included.
André Frénaud expresses his discontent at being so poorly perceived in the literary world and, in an effort to be better regarded, he appeals to Georges Raillard regarding his latest work L'étape dans la clairière: "... je vous l'adresse comme une approche par l'auteur, très subjective donc et unilatérale, pas du tout une interprétation officielle et complète !!! mais cela vous intéressera peut-être pour éclairer sinon une intention préalable au poème du moins une analyse chemin faisanrt et après coup." ["... I send it to you as an approach by the author, very subjective therefore and unilateral, not at all an official and complete interpretation!!! but this might interest you to illuminate if not a prior intention to the poem at least an analysis in the making and after the fact."]

First edition, one of 20 copies on Arches paper, most limited deluxe issue (tirage de tête).
Like all copies on Arches, it is wrapped in a double dust jacket in yellow and white, and bears the rare sanguine vignette drawn and engraved by Hans Bellmer.
Preface by Jean Paulhan.

Our copy is housed in a custom clamshell box featuring an original design signed by Julie Nadot.

Beautiful first edition copy of this masterpiece of erotic literature, in its most limited deluxe issue.

The second édition originale on ordinary paper. Fifteen hundred copies had been printed, plus 4 on chine paper, a few copies on hollande and on vélin.
Complete with the portrait of the author by Félix Bracquemond (often missing), here in first state on papier chine pasted on the page (before letters, i.e. “L'Artiste” on top of the portrait).
Orange half cloth Bradel binding, smooth spine double ruled in gilt, gilt date at foot, slightly scratched brown shagreen title-label, marbled paper boards, slightly later 19th-century binding.

Mistakenly considered as “partly original”, this edition was entirely revised by the author, with 35 newly composed poems and 55 “deeply rewritten” poems [profondément remaniés] among the 129 poems. This true new first edition of Les Fleurs du Mal is the culmination of Baudelaire's grand œuvre and the only text of reference for foreign language translations.

First edition. 262 engravings in the text representing the main assembled pieces of cuisine, pastry and ice creams.

Publisher's binding in full red grained cloth. Smooth spine decorated with a large black fleuron. Gilt title. Frame ornaments on the boards and a central vignette. Small lack of cloth to the upper joint at foot. Some soiling and traces of rubbing, but good copy with some scattered foxing.
One of the most important treatises on pastry-making of the 19th century. Sought after for its impressive plates. Garlin, famous chef from Tonnerre was first his father's pupil before training himself in embassies and various establishments. Le pâtissier moderne covers all of cuisine and not, as its title might suggest, only pastry-making. Table of wines preferred in the three services. Table of contents allowing one to find the 3300 entries.

First edition illustrated with 19 original lithographs by Alexandre Lunois, one of 140 numbered copies on Japan paper, the only printing with 60 other Japan copies containing the separate suite of illustrations.
Half salmon morocco binding with corners, smooth spine decorated with gilt cartouches, gilt double fillets framing the marbled paper boards, pebbled paper endpapers and pastedowns, original wrappers preserved, bookplate pasted to one pastedown, top edge gilt, elegant contemporary binding.
Handsome copy in perfect condition.

First edition, one of 50 copies printed anonymously on papier japon.
First edition, one of 50 copies printed anonymously on papier japon.
Illustrated with an erotic frontispiece by Félicien Rops on chine.
Custom chemise and slipcase in half morocco and paper boards signed Boichot, some discreet restorations to the spine and covers, some discreet restorations to the top margin of the frontispiece, not affecting the engraving.
“La Présidente”, honorary nickname given to Apollonie Sabatier (alias Aglaëe Savatier, her real name), was one of the most captivating Salon hostesses of the 19th century. She inspired an ethereal love in Baudelaire who composed his most mystical poems in Les Fleurs du Mal in her honor. The other artists who frequented the apartment on Rue Frochot, during her famous Sunday dinners, had more licentious feelings for this woman of surprising wit and beauty. The sculptor Clésinger portrayed her in his lascivious “woman stung by a snake”; Flaubert wrote sensual letters to her ending with “the very sincere affection of one who, alas, only kisses your hand”; she has long since been recognized as the model for Gustave Courbet's scandalous The Origin of the World.
Gautier sent her this letter in 1850. Sabatier made copies which she never published but privately distributed to her guests:
“In October 1850, Gautier sent her [this] very long letter, farcical and obscene, from Rome, commenting with Rabelaisian exaggeration what himself and his friend Cormenin had learned regarding sexuality during their travels. Gautier knew that his freedom of expression would not offend Madame Sabatier. He had long since accustomed her to it and he prided himself on his “smut” to brighten up the friendly social gatherings of the Rue Frochot.” (Dictionnaire des œuvres érotiques)
Honored indeed by this priapic attention, ‘La Présidente' gave copies to all her guests and the reading of Gautier's “indecent prose” became a popular event at Parisian soirées. However, the letter was ultimately published – luxuriously but confidentially – after the recipient's death in 1890.
After this first edition of 50 copies on papier japon, a second edition on papier vélin followed a few months later with a larger print run and without the Rops frontispiece.
A rare, beautiful and very sought after copy.