Bouquet de bohème

"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:

“One day – or rather, one night – the uproar reached its height: when Poulbot gave his famous Dernières Cartouches party. The idea came to him after a dispute with his landlord on rue de l’Orient, who had refused to renew his lease. Poulbot had only recently moved in, and had built a studio in the garden at his own expense.
– ‘Does he think I’m going to give it to him as a gift?’ he fumed. ‘He can rot! I’ll barricade myself inside and wait for eviction.’
Right away we all swore to join him in defying the police, just like at Fort Chabrol. But our tall friend was already improving the plan:
– ‘Even better! We’ll dress up as soldiers from 1870 and defend ourselves like the Last Cartridges!’” 

The Maison des Dernières Cartouches was an inn in Bazeilles where French soldiers had made a heroic last stand during the fall of Sedan. Their sacrifice inspired a famous history painting by Alphonse de Neuville.

“– By firing from the windows!
– By blowing everything up!”

The operation was immediately planned. Orders were issued stamped with the imperial eagle, and the recruits assembled their own equipment – not from a costume hire, that would’ve been too easy. Old relics were unearthed, ragmen looted, the flea market raided for red trousers: in less than two weeks the battalion was fully outfitted. Everything was period-accurate, down to the Chassepot rifles of Gravelotte. Even the weapons were authentic. Not a single gaiter button was missing...
As the evening began, rifle butts rattled the doors. The police? No – reinforcements. The Montparnasse reservists arrived, soaked to the bone, having marched across Paris in fours, bayonets fixed, greeted along the way by bewildered officers. We drank, we sang, we roared. Then we set off on patrol, brimming with spirit, and the honest folk returning from the cinema were startled to see soldiers appearing on corners and aiming at them:
– ‘Halt! Who goes there?’
Some caught on, others stammered in fright:
– ‘What’s happening?’
– ‘What? You didn’t know? War has been declared...’
There are some things, though, one shouldn’t joke about... When our martial energy waned, we all poured into the Lapin Agile and started singing “Le Père la Victoire” in chorus. It wasn’t period-accurate, but never mind. At dawn, as the sky began to pale, we gathered on rue Lepic, officers drew their sabres, the bugle sounded the charge, and we launched an assault on the Moulin de la Galette, throwing firecrackers as we went. Once the position was secured, we released carrier pigeons into the rainy sky – a mournful flight like during the Siege – followed by a hot-air balloon, for lack of a proper balloon. All to the rhythm of drums and bugles. The neighbours, furious, yelled from their windows: twenty rifles were raised.
– ‘Take cover! It’s war!’
We shouted it enough that night, the terrible word. And it 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.” pp. 334–335

The copy also includes the original drawing and a proof of the cover vignette by Zyg Brunner, pasted onto a separate leaf. Included with the volume: a photograph of the painter and illustrator Raoul Dufy, annotated in pencil on the verso “Dufy to be inserted p. 149 of Bouquet de B”, two autograph letters of congratulations received by Dorgelès, and a fine “Ballade pour Roland Dorgelès” written by a member of the Dernier Carré, the group of  of Old Montmartre to which the author belonged.

An exceptional copy with one of the only known photographs of a legendary Montmartre fête – marking the end of a dazzling and boisterous artistic era on the eve of WW1.