“If you could say it in words, there'd be no reason to paint it,” Edward Hopper mischievously replied to journalists.
Yet the words of artists, their correspondence, their notebooks and their theoretical reflections are one of the most precious sources for the exegete and the promise, for the amateur, of an intimate journey into the soul of genius.
Autograph letter signed "R" by Auguste Renoir, addressed to his friend and great collector of his works Paul Bérard. One and a half pages in black ink on a bifolium.
Horizontal fold mark inherent to mailing.
Autograph letter signed by Auguste Renoir, dated in his hand 5 February 1909. 2 pp. in black ink on a double leaf.
Horizontal mailing fold. Renoir penned this letter at his villa Les Collettes in Cagnes, where he created works of great sensuality and essayed sculpture. The painter orders brushes and refers to an expected visit from the family of Dr Emile Baudot, his physician of long standing and chief medical officer of the Compagnie des chemins de fer de l'Ouest. Renoir's sole pupil was the venerable doctor's daughter, Jeanne Baudot, of whom he painted a portrait and who sat alongside her master for a canvas by Maurice Denis.
Maurice Gangnat was a patron, distinguished collector, and intimate friend of Renoir, whom he first met in 1904 through the offices of Paul Gallimard. Upon being introduced to Renoir, his pictures so delighted him that he purchased twelve forthwith, at a cost of twenty thousand francs. He possessed the connoisseur's eye, and Renoir permitted him to select the finest of each spring's production: "He has the eye," he would say of him.
Between 1905 and 1917, Gangnat acquired one hundred and eighty canvases during his sojourns at Les Collettes, among them thirty-six landscapes of Cagnes and its environs.
"Cher Monsieur Gangnat,
Je retrouve sur ma table une lettre que je croyais depuis longtemps à la porte.
Je vous disais que j'avais reçu un avis de la Banque marseillaise ou vous avez eu l'obligeance de déposer de l'argent pour moi et que je vous renverrais ( ?)
Je prends la liberté de vous charger de m'apporter un paquet de pinceaux. Millaud vous les apportera chez vous. Nous comptons toujours sur vous le plus tôt possible. Les Baudot doivent me faire leur visite annuel vers le commencement de mars. Ce pauvre docteur est replacé à la gare Saint Lazare. Ce mois-ci il s'y attendait. [...]
J'espère que vous êtes en bonne santé et prévenez nous pour vous aller chercher à la gare.
Ma femme et moi vous envoyons toutes nos amitiés ainsi qu'à Madame Gangnat et à Philippe [...]"
["Dear Monsieur Gangnat, I have discovered upon my desk a letter which I believed long since dispatched. I was informing you that I had received notice from the Marseille Bank where you were good enough to place money on deposit for me and that I should return it to you (?). I take the liberty of charging you with bringing me a packet of brushes. Millaud will convey them to your residence. We continue to count upon you at the earliest opportunity. The Baudots are to pay me their annual visit toward the commencement of March. That poor doctor has been reassigned to the Gare Saint-Lazare. He was expecting it this month. [...] I trust you are in good health and pray advise us so that we may meet you at the station. My wife and I send you our warmest regards, together with our compliments to Madame Gangnat and to Philippe [...]"]
A charming and vivid letter from the artist to an intimate friend during his Cagnes period, ordering brushes for future masterworks, notably his Ode aux fleurs executed that year.
Almost entirely unpublished handwritten letter from the painter Eugène Delacroix to the love of his youth, the mysterious “Julie”, now identified as being Madame de Pron, by her maiden name Louise du Bois des Cours de La Maisonfort, wife of Louis-Jules Baron Rossignol de Pron and daughter of the Marquis de La Maisonfort, Minister of France in Tuscany, patron of Lamartine and friend of Chateaubriand.
90 lines, 6 pages on two folded leaves. A few deletions and two bibliographical annotations in pencil on the upper part of the first page (“no114”).
This letter is one of the last to his lover in private ownership, all of Delacroix's correspondence to Madame de Pron being kept at the Getty Research Institute (Los Angeles).
Only nine of the ninety lines of this unpublished letter were transcribed in the Burlington Magazine in September 2009, alongside the long article by Michèle Hanoosh, Bertrand and Lorraine Servois, whose research finally revealed the identity of the famous recipient.
Sublime love letter from twenty-four-year-old Eugène Delacroix, addressed to his lover Madame de Pron, twelve years his senior, who unleashed the liveliest passion in him. This episode of the painter's youth, then considered the rising star of Romanticism, for a long time remained a mystery in the biography of Delacroix, who was careful to preserve the anonymity of his lover thanks to various pseudonyms: “Cara”, “the Lady of the Italians”, and even “Julie”, as in this letter, in reference to the famous epistolary novel Julie ou la Nouvelle Héloïse by Rousseau. For obvious reasons, Delacroix did not sign his name on any of the letters in correspondence with the lady.
A great figure of the legitimate aristocracy, the recipient of this feverish letter is Madame de Pron, daughter of the Marquis de La Maisonfort, Minister of France in Tuscany, patron of Lamartine, friend of Chateaubriand. Her beauty was immortalized in 1818 by Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, who painted her portrait in pastel, with an oriental hairstyle.
Delacroix and Madame de Pron met in April 1822 when the portrait of the latter's son, Adrien, was commissioned, a pupil at the Lycée Impérial (now Lycée Louis-le-Grand). Delacroix had been commissioned for the portrait by his close friend Charles Soulier, Madame de Pron's lover, who despite himself, served as an intermediary for Delacroix. In the absence of Soulier, who had gone to Italy, the painter and the young women established an intense romantic relationship. The portrait commission became a pretext for their tender meetings in his studio on rue de Grès, while no trace of the child's painting has been found to this day.
Their adventure lasted a little over a year, but it was one of the most intense passions of the artist's life.
Our letter undoubtedly corresponds to the last throes of their relationship, in the month of November 1823. After one of their visits at the end of a hiatus of several months, Delacroix writes to her again under the influence of emotion: “I come home with a shaken heart, what a wonderful evening! [...] Sometimes I say to myself: why did I see her again? In the calm sanctuary where I lived, even in the middle of the invisible places that I had formed [...] I managed to silence my heart”. Madame de Pron had indeed decided to bring an end to their intimate relationship (see her letter from 10 November 1823: “I want sweet friendship [...] I do not want to torment you”, (Getty Research Institute). Losing all discernment and with blind devotion, Delacroix attempts to revive their affair: “Make me lie, prove to me that your soul is indeed that of the Julie that I once knew, since mine has regained its charming emotions and its worries”.
But the painter runs into Soulier and General de Coëtlosquet, also lovers of Madame de Pron. Delacroix had narrowly avoided a final disagreement with Soulier, who had almost seen a letter from Madame de Pron in his apartments: “I pretend to have lost my key [...] I hope that my wrong towards him will not affect his relations with... God grant that he always ignores it!” (Journal, 27 October 1822, ed. Michèle Hanoosh, vol. 1, p. 94).
A prisoner of this love square, Delacroix resigns himself to sharing his lover's affection, but he bitterly reproaches her for it: “I fear that you cannot love perfectly. There has been a gap in your feelings which has been fatal to you [...] tell me no, tell me anyway, fool me if you want, I'll believe you, I want to believe you so much and I need it”.
Formalities and familiar invectives merge in the tormented mind of the painter. Ironically, Delacroix frequently stayed with Madame de Pron's other lover, her cousin Empire Général Charles Yves César Cyr du Coëtlosquet, with whom she stayed in rue Saint-Dominique. Delacroix will take his revenge on this rival in 1826 by painting for him the famous Nature morte aux homards (Louvre museum), taking care to slip in facetious references to the ultra-royalism of his sponsor: "I have completed the General's painting of animals [...] He has already seduced a provision of amateurs and I believe that will be funny at the Salon (1827-1828)” he writes in a letter to Charles Soulier.
A memory of Delacroix's affair with Madame de Pron remains in his ongoing painting, the Scènes du Massacre de Scio, a revelation of the 1824 Salon, which will place Delacroix as the leader of Romanticism and will revolutionise the history of painting. Indeed, through his lover, he obtained Mamluk weapons, of which there remains a study (J72) and which appear on the sides of the Spahi charging the women in the final composition. Also, a watercolor album at the hand of his friend Soulier shows him in the process of decorating the room of his former lover with Pompeian decorations in the château de Beffes, where he will briefly stay in June 1826.
The ardor of his passion for Madame de Pron is finally revealed by this letter which does not appear in any bibliographical essay or correspondence of the painter. Later, Delacroix will remember his lover fondly: “You will tell Madame de Pron that French women have no equal for grace” (letter to Soulier, 6 June 1825).
First edition, one of 10 numbered copies on imperial japon, ours one of 3 hors commerce lettered copies, a deluxe issue following 6 on chine.
Bound in full sienna morocco, flat spine, gilt date at foot, moiré-effect endpapers and pastedowns, gilt fillet border on pastedowns, original wrappers and spine preserved (spine restored and backed), gilt edges, chemise edged in sienna morocco, slipcase in wood-effect board with white felt lining, contemporary binding signed by Roger Arnoult.
Our copy is enriched with a one-page signed autograph letter by Jean Cocteau, mounted on a guard, written from La Roche-Posay in Vienne, probably addressed to Pierre Benoit, in which he humorously evokes Charlie Chaplin, his fragile health, and his boredom: "... Me voilà dans ce film de Charlot : \"Charlot fait une cure\" - parmi les clowns et clowneries du mercurochrome... Le docteur H. arrive à éteindre mon fer de travail avec ses pelotes d'épingles aquatiques. Mon ventre gargouille. Si tu venais ce serait une très bonne cure. Que penses-tu de cette publicité pour La Roche : La Roche source d'ennuis."
A handsome copy, finely bound by Roger Arnoult, a graduate of the École Estienne, active until 1980, who collaborated with and worked for the foremost binders of his time such as René Aussourd, Anthoine-Legrain, Paul Bonet, Georges Cretté, Pierre-Lucien Martin...
First edition, one of 500 numbered copies on pure wove paper.
Bound in full sienna morocco, flat spine with a slight snag at head, date gilt at foot, moiré endpapers and pastedowns, single gilt fillet framing the pastedowns, original wrappers and spine preserved, gilt edges, chemise edged in sienna morocco, slipcase of wood-grained boards lined with white felt, contemporary binding signed by Roger Arnoult.
Our copy is enriched with a signed autograph letter, one page, by Jean Cocteau mounted on a tab, dated April 1959, probably addressed to Pierre Benoit: "Nôtre Pierre fantôme... c'est autour de votre souvenir qu'on se réunit. C'est une chaîne bien étonnante que celle de cette affreuse et délicieuse cabane. Pensez moi. Je pense à vous. Je vous aime et je me résigne à vous aimer en rêve."
A fine copy, handsomely bound by Roger Arnoult, a graduate of the École Estienne, active until 1980, who worked with and for the greatest binders of his time such as René Aussourd, Anthoine-Legrain, Paul Bonet, Georges Cretté, Pierre-Lucien Martin...
Autograph letter signed by Emile Zola addressed to Henry Fouquier, written in black ink on a bifolium. Usual folds from mailing.
This letter was transcribed in the complete correspondence of Emile Zola published by the CNRS and the Presses de l'Université de Montréal.
Personal diary handwritten by Maurice Béjart, written in a 1969 diary celebrating the centenary of the birth of Mahatma Gandhi.
52 handwritten leaves, written in red and blue pen in a spiral-bound notebook. This diary features amongst Béjart's very rare, privately owned manuscripts, the choreographer's archives being shared between his house in Brussels, the Béjart foundation in Lausanne and the Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie.
The choreographer Maurice Béjart's diary written during the year 1969. An extremely rare collection of thoughts, questions and introspections from the point of view of Hinduism and Buddhist wisdom, which Béjart adopts following his first trip to India in 1967.
The diary is an emblematic testimony of the indo-hippie era of the 1960s, spiritual and artistic renaissance that inspired numerous ballets of the choreographer (Messe pour le temps présent, Bhakti, Les Vainqueurs).
A selection from this diary was published by Maurice Béjart in the second volume of his memoirs (La Vie de Qui ? Flammarion, 1996).
During the year 1969, Béjart wrote daily notes in a diary published in memory of Mahatma Gandhi. Fascinated by Hindu mysticism since his trip to India in 1967, he filled in this spiritual journal with numerous mantras and prayers (“Krishna guide my chariot, the light is at the end of the path. OM”; “Buddha is everywhere”; “Let God enter, but how to open the door”) and he calls upon the Hindu deities as well as the Bodhisattvas Mañju?r? et T?r? – soothing figures of the Buddhist pantheon. Béjart's “Indian period” was particularly rich in choreographic masterpieces, the progress of which can be followed in his diary (Baudelaire at the beginning of the year, the first performance of the Vainqueurs in Brussels and the Quatre fils Aymon in Avignon, as well as the filming and screening of his Indian ballet Bhakti). At the crossroads of New Age and the hippie movement, Béjart's “conversion” is symptomatic of an era that refuses progress and has a thirst for spirituality: “Calcutta is not India, but our western face. It is not religion or traditional thinking that is to blame, but capitalism. India, a rich country before colonisation.” The Beatle's visit to the guru Maharishi's ?shram and Ravi Shankar's concert at Woodstock in 1969 marks the beginning of a real western passion for Indian music and culture, which was decisive in Béjart's ballets at the time.
In Béjart's eyes, India presents itself as a place where art and ancestral traditions have not suffered the perversions of positivity. In his creations he seeks to express the spirit of a culture that intimately links the body and the spirit, and in which dance plays a major cosmic and spiritual role. Included in his ballets were Indian dance systems and Vedic songs that were discovered thanks to Alain Daniélou – in 1968 he opened the Messe pour temps présent with a long vînâ solo that lasted fifteen minutes: “Béjart is in his Hindu quarter-hour. And over there, Hindu quarter hours, can last for hours...” commented Jean Vilar, director of the Avignon festival. A wave of Indian fashion also passes through the costumes of the Ballet du XXe siècle company: large silk trousers, tunics, jewellery and oriental eyes. In the diary, Béjart states that there is “no truth without yoga,” an art discovered from an Indian master that can be found in many of his ballets in the form of dance exercises on the barre. He also decides to make Bhakti “an act of Faith” by filming himself the ballet choreographer, and during the summer he prepares the Vainqueurs, an unusual meeting between Wagner and traditional Indian ragas.
Beyond the prolific artist, we also discover the choreographer's troubled personality in the diary, in the grips of doubt and melancholy: “vague state of physical weightlessness and moral emptiness. Lethargy or laziness. Weakness. Dizziness. Drowsiness. Unconsciousness.” Despite successes, Béjart will try to calm his fragile state by meditation and the teachings of Indian prophets and brahmins, which can be found throughout the pages of this diary (Ramana Maharshi, Swami Ramdas, the Dalai-Lama, Apollonius of Tyana).
His sometimes thwarted romances with his favourite dancer Jorge Donn monopolise him and plunge him into anxiety – on the eve of the Vainqueurs premiere, he writes, “Before dress rehearsal. Chaos. [Jorge] Donn disappeared. Tara absent. Me lost.” Torn between enjoyment and self-control, he tours at a frantic pace with his company Ballet du XXe siècle, first to the Netherlands, then to Milan, Turin and Venice in Italy: “I leave Venice completely enslaved to laziness, to sex and to ease, and yet a strange well-being of the brute who drank and fucked.” However, these happy moments did not go so far as to satisfy Béjart, for whom “Joy has a dead aftertaste” despite the “life of work and discipline” that he establishes during this richly creative year. At the end of his life, Béjart will look back with humour on his Indian escapades and the resolutely sombre tone of his diary: “I can't stop myself laughing at this idiot who cries and who moans, even though he created a great number of ballets [...] When I think that at the end of this diary in 1969 I was firmly considering retirement!”
An extremely rare document retracing the meeting of the East and the West in Maurice Béjart's personal life and choreographic work. This diary embodies an era of counter-culture and cultural syncretism that had long-lasting effects on avant-garde European ballet.
Autograph manuscript signed by the painter and writer Jacques-Émile Blanche, entitled « Serge de Diaghileff ». Five leaves written in black ink, with numerous corrections in blue. Autograph foliation in black ink, later foliation in blue pencil. Leaf 4, originally in two parts, was joined with a strip of adhesive affixed to the verso.
Crossed-out passages and corrections.
A very fine funeral oration by Jacques-Émile Blanche for his friend Serge Diaghilev, director of the celebrated Ballets Russes.
The painter and writer Jacques-Émile Blanche pays tribute to the genius of Serge Diaghilev, shortly after his death in Venice in 1929. Chosen as a « godfather » to the Ballets Russes, the painter followed closely the choreographer’s work as a regenerator of the performing arts and applauded Stravinsky’s Sacre du printemps. He also produced numerous portraits of the Ballets Russes dancers, which he presented at the Venice Biennale in 1912.
At the beginning of the century, Diaghilev’s company, the « Ballets Russes », had dazzled audiences across Europe with a rich and vigorous art which, moving from one new form to another, remained at the avant-garde for twenty years. The painter recalls his first encounter with Diaghilev, a figure of undeniable charm: « j'éprouvai qu'on ne pouvait lui résister. Son autorité, ses caprices d'enfant gâté, on les subissait, tant son intelligence éclatait dans ses paroles d'adolescent. Il ressemblait, alors, assuraient ses compatriotes, au Tzar Alexandre Ier ». He evokes the impresario’s troubled existence and his dazzling triumphs with the Ballets Russes: « Eh quoi ! vingt ans d'expériences, vingt ans d'incomparables spectacles - et la perfection d'une technique de plus en plus déconcertante, ne nous conseilla-t-il pas d'accorder crédit illimité à notre cher ami, le plus artiste des hommes - et somme toute, le plus sûr de soi-même, malgré l'extravagance, le paradoxe de la vie qu'il menait et qu'il imposait à sa troupe ? ».
Blanche highlights Diaghilev’s taste for French culture, which he shared with his friends and collaborators. This passion, inherited from Russian aristocratic circles, made him « Le plus parisien des cosmopolites, croyant au prestige de Paris comme un boulevardier du second Empire ». We also learn of Diaghilev’s unrealized plan to travel to Moscow and stage ballets in the young USSR, then regarded as a land of political and artistic avant-garde. The letter closes with a moving evocation of Venice, where Diaghilev passed away on 19 August 1929:
« voici qu'un funèbre cortège de gondoles accompagne sur la lagune torride [...] les restes de notre cher camarade. Il est bien - puisqu'il devait nous quitter - qu'il fermât les yeux sur la cité du Sang, de la volupté et de la Mort ».
A remarkable panegyric to the creator and impresario Serge de Diaghilev by Jacques-Émile Blanche, his loyal friend and portraitist of the Ballets Russes.
Black cloth binding. A white star made by Mugler in corrector fluid on the first cover.
Fifteen pages of the notebook filled in by the fashion designer:
- The first page, in neon blue felt-tip pen, with the word "Yes" as and large exclamation mark ending with the iconic Mugler star.
- A double page with the word "white" enhanced with corrector fluid and in capital letters on a black felt-tip background, in orange the words "Indehain" (?) and "TRIBE" with a drawing depicting a sun, several notes in black ballpoint pen: "Aelino Rock-Elektro", "DJ", "Syath Choreographie".
- A double page with a wonderful drawing of a naked Black woman with voluminous pink hair, and on the left with a black ballpoint pen the words "Super NOVA MAMA" with star enhanced with purple marker.
- A double page with three lines in green, red, and purple markers: "- La Perle de l'Afrique... / RIEN QUI BOUGE !!! / Le chic des mains de Paris !" [- The Pearl of Africa... / NOTHING THAT MOVES!!! / The chic of the hands of Paris!] The last exclamation point ends with a star.
- Several drawings of stars and perfume bottles sketches in pencil.
- A list of names in pencil, opposite some of them the letter "G" in blue marker, the mention "Kab" in red marker and a spiral in orange marker.
- A double page with a drawing of a perfume bottle and a planet with a phallus on it; above, several lines in blue, purple, orange, green and red markers with the following text: “Alice se perdit dans Brocéliande et se fit courser par le centaure Manfred...et ses dangereux attributs...Pauvre petite fille riche...Ce n'est pas le luxe qui va la sauver. Ombres d'arbres sous la lune "EN TRAVERS" CQFD... Testosterone et innocence...la Belle et la Bête !!! Rugissement furieux de métal...Perforation du Tympan et l'Hymen...L'HISTOIRE DU MONDE !" [Alice got lost in Broceliande [a forest in Brittany] and was chased by the centaur Manfred...and his dangerous attributes...Poor little rich girl...It's not luxury that will save her. Shadows of trees under the moon "IN THE WAY" QED... Testosterone and innocence...Beauty and the Beast!!! Furious roar of metal...Tympanum and Hymen perforation...THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD!]
- A double page in pencil with a sketch of a pole dancer with her head upside down in the left margin; with a text around it: "Strip Tease intello : laide, pas laide... Qui suis je ? Oui !... Je suis belle. Non ! Je suis laide... Regardez moi ! Non ne me regardez pas ! Voyez moi ! Aimez moi ! BAISE MOI !!! VAS T'EN ! Reviens. Folle... Pas folle... Grand Corps Malade ? Fabien" [Strip Tease nerd: ugly, not ugly... Who am I ? Yes !... I am beautiful. No! I am ugly... Look at me ! No don't look at me! Look at me! Love me! FUCK ME!!! GO AWAY! Come back. Crazy... Not crazy... Grand Corps Malade ? Fabien" [French singer Grand Corps Malade, whose real name is Fabien, wrote a song for the designer's music-hall show Mugler Follies]
- A pencil note: "Acte Vente Chelsea AT 92". Thierry Mugler sold his penthouse in New York's Chelsea neighborhood in 2012.
The personal archives of Manfred Thierry Mugler are exceedingly rare.
Clear pictures upon request
Multi-colored autograph letter to Max Pellequer
Elegant multi-colored autograph letter by Pablo Picasso to Max Pellequer, signed and dated 'December 20, 1955'. A leaf in multi-color pencil (blue, green, orange and red).
Traces of transverse folds.
This "graphic" letter in the most literal sense constitutes a superb polychrome and artistic link in an epistolary chain that linked Picasso and his prominent patron for decades.
Autograph letter dated and signed by Cécile Sorel, comprising 23 lines in blue ink on a bifolium bearing her monogram as Countess of Ségur by marriage.
Folds consistent with mailing.
The actress thanks her correspondent, a journalist at Théâtre, for his glowing review: "Vous savez combien tout ce qui vient de vous touche le plus sensible de mon coeur, jugez de ma joie en lisant les belles lignes que vous me consacrez."
As a token of her gratitude, she sent him flowers and invited him to visit her soon: "faites-moi la joie de venir déjeuner et causer avec moi de la pièce qui dort dans vos cartons et de laquelle j'attends une revanche."
Autograph note signed by Caran d'Ache to a lady friend, 18 lines in pencil on a bifolium, with each letter written in uppercase.
Tears repaired with adhesive patches, minor loss to corners not affecting the text.
"Admirable madame ! Grandpierre & non Dampierre est votre proche voisin rue d'Offemont. Je me traîne à vos pieds heureux de baiser la pointe de vos pieds. Caran d'Ache."
The rue d'Offemont, located in the Plaine Monceau district, is now known as rue Henri Rochefort.
Autograph letter dated and signed by Théophile-Alexandre Steinlen, 30 lines in black ink, written from his Montmartre residence at 21 rue Caulaincourt, addressed to his friends the Lefèvres.
Folding marks inherent to mailing, minor marginal tears.
The painter inquires after the health of Madame Lefèvre, who was unwell at the time, and asks his correspondent to see that everything is put in order at their house in Saint Ay, where his wife and model Massia would soon be staying.
Steinlen is held back in Paris: "Pour moi, je ne se sais trop ce que je ferai, en tout cas, je ne puis quitter Paris avant le 15 - d'ici là des évènements peuvent survenir qui me bloqueront ici... ou ailleurs - s'ils ne s'arrangent pas de la façon que je souhaite St Ay ne me verra pas cette année..."
Autograph note dated and signed by Henri Laurens, 7 lines in black ink, addressed to a Mr Fardel, most likely Gildas Fardel, the prominent art collector.
A handsome example.
Henri Laurens writes to postpone their appointment, as he will not be at his studio at the agreed time.
A major collector of abstract art, Gildas Fardel donated part of his collection to the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Nantes in 1958.
Autograph letter dated and signed by Henri Martin, post-impressionist painter who was a pupil of Jean-Paul Laurens, 20 lines written in black ink.
Central fold inherent to postal dispatch. At the end of the missive, some calculation notes in black ink probably traced by the recipient.
Autograph letter signed by the painter Eugène Delacroix to his friend Baron Félix Feuillet de Conches, master of protocol at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs under Charles X and Louis-Philippe. One page in black ink on a folded sheet, with the autograph address on the verso. Traces of seal and postal stamps dated October 7.
The painter writes to his friend Feuillet de Conches, a distinguished man of letters whose works were well received, and who also amassed an elegant collection of art and autographs in his apartment on the rue Neuve-des-Mathurins, the address of this very letter.
A charming and witty missive, in which Delacroix expresses his enchantment with country life, far removed from the bustle of Paris.
"From the summer of 1844, Eugène Delacroix settled at Champrosay, on the edge of the Sénart forest near Paris. There, he recorded in his journal the impressions inspired by his regular walks through the countryside. He produced numerous sketches, later reworked into his large compositions, as well as more ambitious landscapes that reveal how, in his mature and later years, the observation of nature — now contemplated for its own sake — had become central to his art." (MuMa)
"I reply to you late, dear Feuillet, but you will forgive me: I promise you a Gros, very happy to add it to the collection. I pity you for living far from the fields. If we were still in the time of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, I might believe myself in danger of one day being turned into a tree. I am mad about these innocent and beautiful trees, while human nature, on the other hand, loses each day in my esteem. I except, of course, friends like you and the few who retain a little reason.
I embrace you while awaiting this winter
Eug. Delacroix."
Autograph letter dated and signed by Jean Hélion addressed to Raymond Queneau, 41 lines (four pages on two leaves) written in black ink.
Jean Hélion cannot respond favorably to an invitation extended by his friend Raymond Queneau, partly due to his homebody nature: "J'ai pris l'habitude de rester chez nous, le samedi après-midi : à l'atelier jusqu'à 5 heures et là-haut jusqu'à l'heure du dîner pour y recevoit toutes sortes de jeunes gens que je n'ai pas le temps de voir un par un... Mais j'aimerais davantage vous montrer à vous seul, un peu tranquille et à n'importe quelle heure. Ne passez-vous jamais de ce côté ?" ("I have gotten into the habit of staying at home on Saturday afternoons: at the studio until 5 o'clock and upstairs until dinner time to receive all sorts of young people whom I don't have time to see one by one... But I would prefer to show you alone, a bit quietly and at any time. Don't you ever come by this way?")
He worries about the political path of one of their mutual friends, the pacifist militant Garry Davis who created in 1948 the World Citizens movement and in 1954 the World Service Authority organization: "Je m'occupe encore de ce bon Garry Davis, qui s'engage maintenant dans la non-violence, mais d'une façon qui pourrait être violente... Breton a tapé dessus comme sur des cymbales. Mais moi, par amitié, autant que pour une confiance dans sa force instinctive, je l'aiderai tant que possible... Il veut encore consulter ses amis, et il en a grand besoin. Camus, Mounier, Altman, l'abbé Pierre et quelques autres lui sont demeurés dévoués." ("I'm still taking care of that good Garry Davis, who is now engaging in non-violence, but in a way that could be violent... Breton struck out at him like cymbals. But I, out of friendship, as much as for confidence in his instinctive strength, will help him as much as possible... He still wants to consult his friends, and he has great need of it. Camus, Mounier, Altman, Abbé Pierre and some others have remained devoted to him.")
Autograph letter signed and dated by Auguste Bartholdi to writer Edmond About. Three pages written in black on a bifolium with his letterhead.
Traces of folds inherent to mailing.
Bartholdi returns from Egypt after having presented his project for a colossal statue on the Suez Canal, whose design will eventually be used for the Statue of Liberty. The sculptor gives his impressions of the trip, and brings back silks and Persian carpets from the bazaar for his friend.
From March to April 1868, Bartholdi stayed in Egypt to submit his monument project to Viceroy Ismaïl-Pacha. The idea of building a statue at the entrance to the Suez Canal had stemmed from the sculptor's visit to the canal company's pavilion at the Paris Universal Exhibition. He then imagined a fifty-metre-tall female colossus, stretching her arm skywards and brandishing a lantern - which he named "Egypt bringing light to Asia", or "Egypt illuminating the Orient". The pasha and chief canal builder Ferdinand de Lesseps were not won over:
"Of my enterprise I cannot give you any interesting information. I really don't know myself whether I've succeeded or not. You'll have to wait and see, I've found a benevolent welcome; but nothing definite, in the Egyptian fashion." The idea finally took root on the other side of the Atlantic, where his statue was enthusiastically welcomed by the Franco-American union and brought him international renown.
In addition to his excursions on the back of a donkey to find a site for his work on the banks of the canal, the sculptor took to strolling the streets of Alexandria and Cairo, drawing numerous sketches: "I intended to return to complete my studies at the bazaar; when, being indisposed, I was obliged to leave suddenly [...] I had the pleasure of seeing your friend Arackel, who was as kind to me as your letter ". Bartholdi also thanks About for his glowing review of his work published on June 1st: "It took your kind little note in the Revue des deux mondes to get my pen into my hands. Thank you for your friendly caress", and talks at length about the silks and carpets he had promised him: " The habaye [abbaya] of blue and gold silk cost 180 instead of 175, and they would only let me have it for 130, the last price. The Caramanie carpets cost 60 last price, and I only saw two or three that were beautiful".
A precious and aesthetic letter by Bartholdi, whose unsuccessful venture in Egypt would lead to the building of America's most iconic monument.
"Chère Madame,
Mille excuses pour le malentendu qui est de ma faute, sans doute.
Je ne me souvenais pas du tout que vous n'étiez pas libre ce soir. Si vous l'êtes demain samedi, j'en serais heureux. J'ai couru à Châtelet et suis parvenu à faire changer le jour pour mes places.
Voulez-vous avoir l'amabilité de me prévenir, soit par un télégramme, soit par un message téléphonique. Les pneumatiques ne parviennent pas à Levallois.
Une fois de plus pardonnez-moi et à demain soir, j'espère.
Respectueuses amitiés de votre dévoué" (Dear Madam, A thousand apologies for the misunderstanding which is undoubtedly my fault. I did not remember at all that you were not free this evening. If you are free tomorrow Saturday, I would be delighted. I ran to Châtelet and managed to have the day changed for my seats. Would you be so kind as to let me know, either by telegram or by telephone message. Pneumatic messages do not reach Levallois. Once more forgive me and until tomorrow evening, I hope. Respectful regards from your devoted)
Autograph letter signed by painter Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun addressed to historical painter and portraitist Hortense Haudebourt-Lescot. Two pages in black ink on a bifolium. Autograph address of Mme Haudebourt, 19 rue Rochefoucauld, on verso of second leaf. Usual horizontal folds, tear without damage to the text on the second leaf due to the wax seal. A bibliographer's note in blue pencil on the verso of the last leaf.
"It's war!" we shouted that night, over and over again. The terrible word brought us bad luck... It was 1913: the following year, we were packing our kits again. This time, for real. And not all the guests came back." p. 335
First edition, one of only 6 copies printed on Hollande, this being copy no. 1 of the deluxe issue.
Bound in navy blue morocco backed boards with corners, spine very lightly sunned with raised bands, gilt date at foot, marbled paper-covered boards and endpapers, edges untrimmed, top edge gilt, covers and spine preserved. Binding signed Lavaux.
A fine copy with wide margins, attractively bound.
Bookplate pasted to a flyleaf.
The author's own copy, profusely extra-illustrated, of this magnificent Montmartre chronicle. Tipped in is an original ink portrait of Roland Dorgelès by Gus Bofa, humorously captioned: "Monsieur Roland Dorgelès dans son uniforme de rédacteur à la petite semaine"
Alongside two original photographs, one depicting the famous Montmartre figure Francisque Poulbot in his Guignol theatre (Agence Rol, 1910), and the other a very rare photograph of the legendary “Fête des Dernières Cartouches” organised by Poulbot on 23 May 1913. We have located only one other known image of this event. The photograph shows the merry band of participants at Poulbot’s place on rue de l’Orient, dressed as soldiers from the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. The celebration, which created quite a stir, is recounted by Dorgelès in this book:
First edition, with the author's facsimile signature and date "october 1940" on the endpaper.
Split hinges, some foxing on the endpapers.
Publisher's sand-colored cloth binding, black title-label on the front cover.
Handsome copy of this notebook reproducing 82 sketches made in London air-raid shelters during the Blitz.
“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 Edgar Degas, addressed to the dealer Charles Deschamps, director of Durand-Ruel’s London branch. Three pages in ink on a bifolium.
Minor marginal tears not affecting the text, folds from mailing.
Recently returned from New Orleans, Degas writes to his London dealer to announce the imminent arrival of a delicate composition of dancers, Le Foyer de la danse à l’Opéra de la rue Le Peletier, now held at the Musée d’Orsay: "In the meantime you will receive the little picture you saw in progress and which you had the idea of selling to Mr. Huth - May you succeed! [...] As for the price, it seems to me that £150 to £200 is fair" Deschamps fulfilled the painter’s wishes and sold the painting to Louis Huth, financier and patron of Whistler, for £140. The canvas would later enter the distinguished collection of Isaac de Camondo.
Degas turned towards London at a time when the English art market offered relief from the collapse that followed the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. He placed great hopes in this expanding British market, fuelled by lucrative blockbuster exhibitions drawing millions of visitors; Degas’s canvases were shown in eight exhibitions of the Société des Artistes Français. Although he often mentions financial difficulties in his correspondence "At the end of the month I have quite a lot to pay. If some money came in, I would be delighted [...] - Take care of me, my dear Deschamps, I would be most obliged - Tell me also if the season is not too far advanced. I fear it is" his career across the Channel was flourishing and his sales profitable. The painter does not fail to salute the "French colony" of expatriate artists, Giuseppe de Nittis and his close friend James Tissot, whose financial success provided Degas with an example of how effectively a French painter’s work could be marketed in England. Unlike Tissot, however, Degas refused to adapt to market taste, focusing instead on defending the Impressionist cause in France and abroad.
He also devotes a passage to a voracious collector of his works, the baritone Jean-Baptiste Faure, patron of his celebrated series of canvases on the Paris Opéra and owner of Manet’s Déjeuner sur l’herbe: "I ought to have been in London some time ago, according to what I said. I am not there because the picture for [Jean-Baptiste] Faure is not finished, and I would not like to meet him there without being able to give him better news, and I hardly have time to dawdle if I want not to arrive on the 1st of September with nothing to deliver to him". Ironically, Faure would later reproach Degas for leaving his canvases unfinished (!) and even sue him a few years afterwards.
A rare and exceptional letter tracing the history of one of Degas’s celebrated works and his dealings with dealers and collectors, on the eve of the first Impressionist exhibition to be held the following year.
Autograph letter dated and signed by Antoni Tàpies addressed to his close friend, art critic Georges Raillard, the greatest French specialist of his work (16 lines in blue ballpoint pen from Barcelona).
Fold marks inherent to the letter's mailing, envelope included.
Having directed the French Institute of Barcelona from 1964 to 1969, Georges Raillard befriended and collaborated with numerous Spanish and Catalan artists including Joan Miro and Antoni Tapies, whose biographies he would also write.
The Catalan artist regrets not being able to participate in the farewell dinner organized by his friends Georges and Alice Raillard but does not despair of seeing them again soon in order to maintain their friendship: "En réalité c'est pour vous dire un simple au revoir car nous espérons que bientôt nous aurons le plaisir de vous voir de nouveau à Paris où nous désirons vivement pouvoir continuer notre amitié..." ["In reality it is to say a simple goodbye as we hope that soon we will have the pleasure of seeing you again in Paris where we keenly wish to be able to continue our friendship..."]
Autograph letter dated and signed by Antoni Tàpies addressed to his close friend the art critic Georges Raillard, the greatest French specialist of his work (19 lines in blue ballpoint pen from Barcelona).
Fold marks inherent to the letter's envelope placement, envelope included.
Having directed the French Institute of Barcelona from 1964 to 1969, Georges Raillard formed friendships and collaborated with numerous Spanish and Catalan artists including Joan Miro and Antoni Tapies, whose biographies he would also write.
The Catalan artist relays the notion of "art impliqué" recently employed in Catalonia: "... je viens de voir une citation... dans laquelle on dit "art impliqué" - que nous avions pensé que était intraduisible, ou que n'avait pas de sens en français - " ["... I just saw a quote... in which they say 'art impliqué' - which we had thought was untranslatable, or had no meaning in French - "] and used previously: "... une expression qu'avait été employé par Etienne Souriau en France et que le jeune esteticien catalan Robert de Ventos s'aurait approprié..." ["... an expression that had been used by Etienne Souriau in France and that the young Catalan aesthetician Robert de Ventos would have appropriated..."]
Antoni Tapies would like to use this "new notion" that is ultimately old in order to make some modifications to their previous joint works: " ? Nous permettrait ça de remettre le titre au chapitre : "Academia del social i l'implicat (mot entouré) qu'on avait laissé par "art fonctionnel" ? Je ne suis pas sûr et je te laisse à toi de décider." ["? Would that allow us to restore the title to the chapter: 'Academia del social i l'implicat' (word circled) that we had left as 'functional art'? I'm not sure and I leave it to you to decide."]
Finally, he congratulates his friend Georges Raillard for his latest preface: "Merci encore une fois pour le préface que tu as fait, que j'ai aimé beaucoup ! " ["Thank you once again for the preface you wrote, which I loved very much!"]
