Proust Gets Boost at Christie's

by Stephen J. Gertz

Written at age 9, to his grandmother, Feb. 1881.
Est. $6,700-$9,300.

Eight signed autograph letters written by French novelist, critic and essayist Marcel Proust (1871-1922) are being sold by Christie's-Paris in its Importants Livres, Anciens Livres, Livres d'Artistes, et Manuscrits sale November 6, 2013. Offered in eight individual lots, estimates range from $2,000-$12,000.

The charming two-page letter above was written by Proust to his maternal grandmother, Ms. Nathe Weil, on the occasion of her birthday, February 5, 1881. He was nine years old. He signed it "Marcel Proust" in German Gothic, and we smile: children seem to enjoy signing their full name as an exercise in identity and sounding adult, even to members of their immediate family.

To Lucien Daudet, c. late 1897.
Est. $8,700-$12,000.

In this letter, dated "Thursday returning" (likely late 1897-early 1898) Proust writes to "mon rat gentile," Lucien Daudet, shortly after the death of Daudet's father, novelist Alphonse. It is believed that Lucien Daudet and Proust had been lovers.

Unable to attend a dinner, Proust sends his regrets. "[ ... ] And I thought you had considered me cruel for  not being master over my body and unable to go near you, to be in this state of health your father had predicted and he advised me that the vision of genius and goodness with which he lived could probably lead us to all wonderful things [...] I wonder at times [...] if he did not die without you known in the most exquisite depths of his mind fully transmitted [...] not only were you  his flesh and blood, but you were sort of real presence of mind [...]."

To la princesse Soutzo (future wife of Paul Morand).
No date (c. 1917). Est. $5,400-$8,000.

On August 24, 1917, Proust wrote four-pages to his confidant, Princess Hélène Soutzo, the future Mrs. Paul Morand, regretting taking so long to acknowledge her invitation to dinner, to which the princess had also invited Soutzo Scheikevitch Ms., Mrs. Harcourt, Jean de Gaigneron, and Etienne de Beaumont.

"[...] When I woke up at 8am, your words gave me pleasure and pain, by your kindness to invite me for the evening I could love you more, and the impossibility, because of the time, to join. Celeste called on the telephone, you were out. Had we called the hotel [the Ritz] [ ... ] it seems that [...] it could present my excuses. I would have infinitely liked this dinner with you, especially Foyot [a restaurant located at the corner of rue de Vaugirard and Rue de Tournon]..." (Proust Correspondence. Text established and annotated by Philip Kolb . Volume XVI . Paris : Plon, 1988 , letter 108 , p. 218).

To Jean-Louis Vaudoyer, February 11, 1915.
Est. $2,700-$4,000.

On February 11, 1915, Proust wrote to Jean-Louis Vaudoyer asking about his friend and Vaudoyer's brother-in-law, historian Daniel Halevy, and complaining about his health.

"I was told that you had seen Mrs. Wood Rouvray (who I do not know) [ ... ] and you were very good. But a line may bring me great sweetness in these terrible days. [ ... ] I hope you have not been tested too much in your friendships. From the first day my brother [Robert] was in danger, but so far has escaped and everything goes well. I have advice against reform [ ... ] I wanted to tell you that I kept thinking about you and as it happens in disasters one keeps in his heart that which is needed, and you were more intimately mine" (Proust Correspondence. Volume XIV.  Paris: Plon, 1986, letter 18 , p. 51-52) .

To Madame Anatole Catusse, undated (c. Dec. 1917).
Est. $5,400-$8,000.

Mrs. Anatole Catusse was very close to Mrs. Proust with whom she shared a love of music. In December 1917 Marcel wrote her a four-page letter.

"Dear Madam, thank you a thousand times for your letter. The state of my eyes after correcting tests   does not allow me to give many thanks at length." 

He also remembers their meeting in restaurant (very likely the Ritz): "The other night, in the hotel you did me the honor to come to dinner, you had me in the crystal revolving door and gave excellent advice." With the help of Ms. Catusse Proust tried to sell some furniture which he had received offers on to buy.

He goes on describing his financial health, so bad, apparently, that even fruit isn't taking any chances on him. "If I had the idea to ask for a chopped apple, it would make me pay in advance." (Proust Correspondence. Volume XVI . Paris : Plon, 1988 , letter 168 , p. 325-326 .

To Jean-Louis Vaudoyer, no date (early Oct. 1918).
Est. $4,100-$6,700.

In an undated (early October 1918), four-page letter to his friend, novelist and critic Jean-Louis Vaudoyer (1883-1963), that he marked "confidential," Proust amusingly writes about a Proust-pastiche he saw in the magazine Le Crapoullot.

"They sent me a number of the Crapouillot causing me a slight annoyance because it contains a really stupid pastiche of me, but causes me great joy: you do me the honor and friendship to dedicate my wonderful pastiches. That of Gerard de Nerval in particular is an ongoing miracle [ ...] As pastiche that the pretension to forge my way, I am wrong to be indignant. It is only the consequence of Vanderem signs and other items that ignoring the composition of my work seem to say that I am the ' memories and am writing my memories of the fl [ ... ]" (Proust Correspondence.Volume IV. Paris : Plon, 1933 , p. 79).

(“On m’envoie un n° du Crapouillot qui me cause un léger ennui car il contient un pastiche de moi vraiment stupide, mais me cause une joie profonde : vous me faites l’honneur et l’amitié de me dédier des pastiches merveilleux. Celui de Gérard de Nerval en particulier est un miracle continu [...] Quant au pastiche qui a la prétention de contrefaire ma manière, j’ai tort de m’en indigner. Il n’est que la conséquence des articles signés Vandérem et autres, qui méconnaissant la composition de mon ouvrage ont l’air de dire que je fais des ‘mémoires’ et écris au fl de mes souvenirs [...]”).

To Jean-Louis Vaudoyer, n.d. [May 7, 1919].
Est. $2,700-$4,000.

In a three-page letter, Marcel writes to his friend, Jean-Louis Vaudoyer, and alludes to  Les Permissions de Clément Bellin, Vaudoyer's novel published in 1918.

"Wednesday, Reynaldo wrote me that he will probably dine and leave immediately afterward… I suffered so yesterday when I wrote that I have the impression that thinking has extraordinary and silent night with the mulatto, and other overhead of Peahen, I love talking about the Peahen and Peacock. I called this last name or the hero that you are a 'given' papers (you should remove that had given me', nor Paonneaux painted [ ... ]."

(“Mercredi, Reynaldo m’écrit qu’il viendra dîner et il partira sûrement tout de suite après. Vous ne serez que tous les deux (sauf un garçon que j’ai recueili depuis q.q. mois mais qui ne nous gênera pas car il ne dit rien) [...] Je souffrais tellement hier quand je vous écrivis que j’ai l’impression qu’en pensant à la nuit extraordinaire et silencieuse avec la mulâtresse, et d’autre part au pavillon de la Paonne, j’ai parlé des amours de la Paonne et de Paon. Je n’appelle de ce dernier nom ni le héros dont on vous a ‘remis’ les papiers (vous devriez supprimer ce ‘qu’on m’avait remis), ni les Paonneaux peints [...])” (Proust Correspondence. Volume XVIII. Paris : Plon, 1990 , letter 87 , p. 205-206).

To Gustave Geffroy, no date (June 20 or 21, 1920).
Est. $5,400-$8,000.

Here, Proust, in 1920, writes to his friend, the art historian, critic and novelist Gustave Geffroy (1855-1925), who wrote the first biography of Claude Monet in 1922.

"I'll wait a while, what I write is not forbidden and it is almost impossible to thank you for your wonderful tales of the West Country. But I want to tell you again what a delight and punishment they are for me. No longer able to travel I cannot see those places that give me nostalgia [...] But many sites - you really live in your Tales of the West Country - I have not visited, and I never will know them. But thanks to you they surround me much more than the walls between which I am [...]." (Marcel Proust. Correspondence. Volume XIX. Paris: Plon, 1991, letter 147, p. 314-315).

"Everything great in the world comes from neurotics. They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces"

"There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book."

"The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

__________

Images courtesy of Christie's, with our thanks.
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Alexander Trocchi Goes On The Lam

by Stephen J. Gertz

 "The most brilliant man I've ever met” (Allen Ginsberg).

A "unique and pivotal figure in the literary world of the 50's and 60's, an individual, that's it...they don't make 'em like that anymore" (William S. Burroughs).

"It is true, it has art, it is brave, I wouldn't be surprised if it is still talked about in twenty years" (Norman Mailer, on Cain's Book).

Mailer underestimated by at least thirty-three years.

In 1961, Alexander Trocchi (1925-1984), the Glasgow-born novelist who, in Paris during the early through mid-1950s as the bridge between the Beats and Europe, had established himself at the center of a group of British and American ex-pat writers in Paris, and, in the late '50s moved to New York City, was in trouble, major big-time.

World literature's second most famous junkie author, William S. Burroughs taking the top spot, Trocchi had provided a sixteen year old girl with heroin. In response to an epidemic of heroin addiction that was non-existent, the United States Congress passed the Boggs Act in 1956,  draconian legislation that mandated the death penalty for providing heroin to a minor. The evidence against him overwhelming and, arrested and arraigned, Trocchi was released on bail. But while awaiting a trial that would have sent him to the electric chair if found guilty, Trocchi appeared in a televised debate about drug abuse. During the live proceedings he nonchalantly shot-up. He immediately became the face of evil. His bail was revoked and he was under threat of immediate re-arrest and incarceration. He had to get out of New York and the U.S., pronto. He had no money.

The income generated by his partner in addiction, his wife, Lyn, who prostituted herself to support their habits, was not sufficient to effect a getaway. He turned to a bookseller friend for financial help, writing him a letter.

That plea has just come into the marketplace, along with Trocchi's personal, hand-painted copy of Cain's Book (NY: Grove Press, 1960), his autobiographical novel and literary triumph, banned in Britain upon its publication there in 1963, recounting his days and nights as a writer in New York while working as a scow pilot on the docks, scoring junk and getting high. Trocchi was so far gone that he was unable to attend the book's release party.

After laying out his desperate situation, complicated by Lyn's arrest and the detention of their son, Marc, he makes the request on page two:

"This is probably the last time I'll ask you to do me a favor - for a long time anyway + in one way or another I'll get your good wishes back to you. Nothing is too little, nothing is too much. Please give it to Diane Di Prima or, if you like, she'll lead you to my hide out. Please keep all this secret until I am safely gone.

Yours, Alex T.

Front flyleaf note.

With the assistance of Norman Mailer, a major fan and supporter, Trocchi was spirited across the border into Canada, where he was met by Leonard Cohen, then a young, aspiring poet. A few days later, after surviving Trocchi's company - hanging-out with the mad Scot presented multiple opportunities for too much excitement, often at the same time - Cohen smuggled him aboard a steamer bound for Aberdeen, providing, to Trocchi's ecstatic relief, "enough Demerol to kill a herd of elephants."

Trocchi, who had been a leading literary light in Paris, publishing the acclaimed avant-garde journal, Merlin, and (along with his friends, including Terry Southern) writing erotica for Maurice Girodias's Olympia Press (under the pseudonyms Carmencita de las Lunas and Francis Lengel), eventually settled in London and continued to write but published very little; his addiction was deep and taking its toll. He died of pneumonia in 1984. Almost immediately afterward, interest in his career became resurgent and intensified and he earned, the hard way, the post-mortem accolades accorded to a literary genius who channeled his gift through a 26-gauge needle squirting diacetylmorphine into his bloodstream in an existential rebellion to separate himself from a world he rejected and surrender in thrall to the muse of nothingness and, in the process, lose everything that remained meaningful to him.

This copy of Cain's Book - the most important copy imaginable - and this letter chronicle his most significant and lasting contribution to literature, his career height and the incident that, as inevitable as a Greek tragedy, instantly toppled him.

Here, Alexander Trocchi, A Life In Pieces, featuring William S. Burroughs and Leonard Cohen:

__________

Images courtesy of Royal Books, currently offering this item, with our thanks.
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Historic Collection Of Kerouac Letters Offered At $1,250,000

by Stephen J. Gertz

From "Old Sam Kerouac."

"To think that all that crazy stuff I’ve written 
since 1951 in a way started when you casually suggested, in Chinese restaurant on Amsterdam and 124th, remember? to try “sketching,” which I did, and it led to discovery of modern spontaneous prose" (March 1, 1965).

A highly significant and awe-inspiring archive of sixty-three intimate letters written 1947-1969 by Beat novelist and author of On the Road, Jack Kerouac, to his close friend, Edward White of Denver, Colorado, whom he met in 1946 in New York as a fellow Columbia University undergraduate and who inspired Kerouac's prose-style, has come into the marketplace. Mostly unpublished and seen for the first time, the letters, typed and autograph with some postcards, are being offered by Glenn Horowitz, Bookseller, of New York City.

__________

“And the other book is the On the Road idea...
I’ll get a new title for it like The Hipsters or  
The Gone Ones or The Furtives, or perhaps 

even The Illegals. A study of the new 

Neal-like generation of honkytonk nights.”
(January 15, 1949).

                                   __________                                  

"The White collection is probably the last foundational Kerouac correspondence that will appear in the market," Horowitz told Booktryst.  It is being tendered en bloc for $1,250,000.

__________

“Well, boy, guess what?
 I sold my novel to 
Harcourt Brace – 
(after one rejection from Little, Brown) 
– and got a $1,000 advance. 
Mad? – I tell you it’s mad. 
Mad? – me mad? Heh heh heh.”
(March 29, 1949, re: The Town and the City)

___________

New York Times reporter, former editor-in-chief of Details, and original columnist at Spin magazine. John Leland, author of 2007's Why Kerouac Matters: The Lessons of 'On the Road' (They're Not What You Think), has provided a lengthy and insightful Introduction to the collection's catalogue.

__________

“While all this is happening my star is rising,
and it’s an awful feeling.”
(April 29, 1949)
___________

He writes:

"The two exchanged at least 87 letters and postcards, starting in July 1947 – the month that began Kerouac’s travels in On the Road – and continuing until August 1969, two months before Kerouac’s death at age 47. Over the course of this correspondence their relationship evolves and contradicts itself, as friendships do, in response to the needs pressing on the two men. What they shared was the male restlessness and self-exploration of the postwar years, along with a love of literature and their own fundamental questions: What sort of men did they want to become – what model of lovers or patriarchs, with what voices to convey their visions, their art. 

__________

"And in this letter you’ll see all the wild thoughts
of a buddy 3,000 miles away who sits in his room
at midnight, madly drinking coffee and smoking,
typing away faster than he can think.

"And don’t I love to talk about myself.
What a gigantic loneliness this all is."
(May 9, 1949)
__________

"Since Kerouac didn’t like the telephone, and since the two men were often in different places, their letters provided a lasting stage on which to try out their future personae. White pursued painting, literature, and teaching before ultimately settling on architecture; Kerouac continued to search for the voice that best captured the life in his head. Each played a part in the other’s search."

Ed White was fictionalized as "Tim Gray" in On the Road.

___________

“I’ve written 86,000 words 
almost finishing On The Road...”
(April 20, 1951)
___________

You need a glossary to identify the parade of people Kerouac mentions within the correspondence, some obvious - William Burroughs, John Clennon Holmes, Neal Cassady, Allen Ginsberg - and others not so obvious who wound up as characters in On the Road: Beverly Buford ("Babe Rawlins"), Bob Buford ("Ray Rolands"), Lucien Carr ("Damion"), Jason Brierly ("Denver D. Doll"), Hal Chase ("Chad King"), Frank Jefferies ("Stan Shephard"), and Allan Temko ("Roland Major"). And so brief biographies of each person who appears in the letters have been provided in the catalogue.

Others who Kerouac discusses include Joyce Glassman (later Joyce Johnson), Kerouac's sister Caroline, his mother Gabrielle, and his ex-wife, Edie Parker. 

___________

“Burroughs is in town, is a big celebrity
among the subterraneans.”

(August 31, 1953)

___________

In short, everyone who mattered to Kerouac and played a role in his life and writing is found in these letters, a majestic trove. 

___________

“Of late I’ve been lamenting anew our 
late beloved master Doctor Samuel Johnson, 
reading him at lezzure in the hot
Florida sunshine of my yard 
– and gadzooks whatta man!”

(August 7, 1961)

____________

Collection Catalog.

I asked Horowitz, who has an uncanny knack for scoring the work of famous writers - he represented David Mamet, Norman Mailer, Don Delillo, John Cheever, R. Buckminster Fuller, Spaulding Gray, Woody Guthrie, Hunter S. Thompson, John Updike, Kurt Vonnegut, Vladimir Nabokov, etc., when they or their estates wished to sell their archives, and sold Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein's Watergate notebooks in 2003 for $5,000,000 - how he got involved with this outstanding collection, an important piece of the puzzle that was Kerouac, a man who was "like a set of chord changes waiting for another musician to blow a chorus over it" (Leland).

"I started talking with Ed White in Denver twenty-five years ago," he told me, "a long patient negotiation that has led to this memorable catalogue prepared by our associate Heather Pisani.  

__________

“ English is the grooviest language!”
(February 9, 1962)

__________

"The project has, for our firm, a poignant quality: the White-Kerouac archive was the final major project that our colleague John McWhinnie oversaw.  It was John's vision for what we could do with the archive that, finally, persuaded the Whites to work with us. In many ways, this catalogue is a tribute to John, who will always be missed by those who were blessed to work with him." 

And by those in the trade who were fortunate to know him, this writer included. 

The catalogue, which includes commentary on each letter by Ed White and is collectible in its own right, is available for $25 and can be ordered here.

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Historic Van Gogh-Gauguin Letter Estimated $470,000 - $670,000 At Christie's

by Stephen J. Gertz

An astounding autograph letter co-written and signed by Vincent Van Gogh and Paul Gauguin to a third party discussing each other, their work together, paintings in progress, thoughts on a painter's association, and, amusingly, their exploration of the brothels of Arles, is being offered by Christie's-Paris in their Pierre Berès A Livre Ouvert sale on December 12, 2012.

It is estimated to sell for $470,000 - $670,000.

Van Gogh was a prolific letter writer; this is no. 716, found in the definitive, six-volume Vincent Van Gogh - The Letters: The Complete Illustrated and Annotated Edition, a massive project begun in 1994 under the aegis of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam and published in 2009.

Though undated and without location, internal evidence points to it being written on Thursday the 1st or Friday the 2d of November 1888 and posted from Arles.

Van Gogh fled Paris in early 1888 and sought refuge in Arles. After repeated requests, Gauguin joined him on October 23d; they shared the four rooms that Van Gogh had rented at 2, Place Lamartine, the Yellow House. The letter was written a week after Gauguin's arrival.

Written to French painter and writer Emile  Bernard (1868-1941), in English translation it reads in full:

My dear old Bernard,

We’ve done a great deal of work these past few days, and in the meantime I’ve read Zola’s Le rêve,1 so I’ve hardly had time to write.

Gauguin interests me greatly as a man — greatly. For a long time it has seemed to me that in our filthy job as painters we have the greatest need of people with the hands and stomach of a labourer. More natural tastes — more amorous and benevolent temperaments — than the decadent and exhausted Parisian man-about-town.

Now here, without the slightest doubt, we’re in the presence of an unspoiled creature with the instincts of a wild beast. With Gauguin, blood and sex have the edge over ambition. But enough of that, you’ve seen him close at hand longer than I have, just wanted to tell you first impressions in a few words.

Next, I don’t think it will astonish you greatly if I tell you that our discussions are tending to deal with the terrific subject of an association of certain painters. Ought or may this association have a commercial character, yes or no? We haven’t reached any result yet, and haven’t so much as set foot on a new continent yet. Now I, who have a presentiment of a new world, who certainly believe in the possibility of a great renaissance of art. Who believe that this new art will have the tropics for its homeland.

It seems to me that we ourselves are serving only as intermediaries. And that it will only be a subsequent generation that will succeed in living in peace. Anyway, all that, our duties and our possibilities for action could become clearer to us only through actual experience.

I was a little surprised not yet to have received the studies that you promised in exchange for mine. Now something that will interest you — we’ve made some excursions in the brothels, and it’s likely that we’ll eventually go there often to work. At the moment Gauguin has a canvas in progress of the same  night café that I also painted, but with figures seen in the brothels. It promises to become a beautiful thing.

I’ve made two studies of falling leaves in an avenue of poplars, and a third study of the whole of this avenue, entirely yellow.

I declare I don’t understand why I don’t do figure studies,6 while theoretically it’s sometimes so difficult for me to imagine the painting of the future as anything other than a new series of powerful portraitists, simple and comprehensible to the whole of the general public. Anyway, perhaps I’ll soon get down to doing brothels.

I’ll leave a page for Gauguin, who will probably also write to you, and I shake your hand firmly in thought.

Ever yours,
Vincent

Milliet the 2nd lieut. Zouaves has left for Africa, and would be very glad if you were to write to him one of these days.

[Continued by Gauguin]

You will indeed do well to write him what your intentions are, so that he could take steps beforehand to  prepare the way for you.

Mr Milliet, second lieutenant of Zouaves, Guelma, Africa.

Don’t listen to Vincent; as you know, he’s prone to admire and ditto to be indulgent. His idea about the future of a new generation in the tropics seems absolutely right to me as a painter, and I still intend going back there when I find the funds. A little bit of luck, who knows?

Vincent has done two studies of falling leaves in an avenue, which are in my room and which you would like very much. On very coarse, but very good sacking.

Send news of yourself and of all the pals.

Yours,

Paul Gauguin

The late Pierre Berès (1913-2008) was more than a collector. He was "The King of  French booksellers," as the New York Times' obituary noted, towering over the rare and antiquarian book trade in Europe for seventy-five years until his death at age ninety-five. He was also a legendary figure in the world of art. He began as an autograph collector but soon shifted his attention  to books. His meteoric rise in the world of rare bookselling was fueled by acquiring collections of financially unstable French aristocrats and American millionaires during the Depression.

He was "a man renowned for his taste and connoisseurship, his vast financial resources and his ruthlessness in the pursuit of the rare and the beautiful" (NY Times obit). “I do not seek, I find,” he once cryptically declared about his preternatural ability to ferret-out scarce and desirable rare books from their hiding places.

"Rivals found him unscrupulous. In one celebrated instance he advertised in his own catalog some choice specimens that happened to belong to a competitor. When a client expressed interest, Mr. Berès told him to wait while he fetched the required volumes from his warehouse. Instead he raced to his competitor’s shop, bought the books and resold them" (Op cit, NY Times). If he was, at times, a scoundrel, he was the most elegant, charming, polished and sophisticated rascal to ever grace the rare book trade, in which scamps and scalawags can still be found but none with such savoir faire and cultivation. He was a consummate gentleman who seduced everyone he came into contact with and knew how to entertain them, routinely inviting buyers and sellers to his apartment on the Avenue de Foch for lunches and dinners after leaving them goggle-eyed at the literary and art treasures he displayed in glass cases and on the walls of his living room.

"Pierre Berès was a living legend on an international scale [and] also a character from a detective story: firstly because of his detective's flair and daring, secondly because of the mystery in which he liked to shroud his own persona, and lastly because of the subtlety of his business strategies that led him to store some of his finds and acquisitions...in his cellars to mature - sometimes as long as a half-century - like one would store fine wine" (Françoise Choay).

This letter was one of his prize possessions, marrying his two great loves, art and manuscripts. It is, arguably, Van Gogh's most significant letter, written at a key point in his career and about his most significant - certainly his most famous - relationship beyond that with his brother, Theo.

In an article, Les isolés: Vincent van Gogh, which appeared in the January 1890 issue of the Mercure de France and incorporated a passage from this letter, French writer and art critic, Gabriel-Albert Aurier (1865-1892), wrote of Van Gogh, "[he is] a dreamer, an exalted believer, a devourer of beautiful Utopias, who lives on ideas and illusions. For a long time he has taken delight in imagining a renovation of art made possible through a displacement of civilization: an art of tropical regions."

The two living side-by-side with incompatible temperaments, the atmosphere at chez Van Gogh soon turned tropical and Van Gogh and Gauguin's relationship began to wilt, Gauguin's domineering arrogance pushing Van Gogh over the edge. On December 23 1888 - less than two months after this letter was written -  a frustrated Van Gogh confronted Gauguin with a razor but in panic fled to a local brothel. While there, he cut off his left ear, wrapped it in newspaper and presented it to Rachel, one of the brothel's prostitutes, asking her to "keep this object carefully." He staggered home, where Gauguin later found him lying unconscious with his head covered in blood.

On January 2, 1889, a week after the incident, Van Gogh wrote to Theo from the Civil Hospital in Arles, letter no. 728:

My dear Theo,

In order to reassure you completely on my account I’m writing you these few words in the office of Mr Rey, the house physician, whom you saw yourself. I’ll stay here at the hospital for another few days — then I dare plan to return home very calmly.1 Now I ask just one thing of you, not to worry, for that would cause me one worry too many.

Now let’s talk about our friend Gauguin, did I terrify him? In short, why doesn’t he give me a sign of life? He must have left with you.

Besides, he needed to see Paris again, and perhaps he’ll feel more at home in Paris than here. Tell Gauguin to write to me, and that I’m still thinking of him.

Good handshake, I’ve read and re-read your letter about the meeting with the Bongers. It’s perfect. As for me, I’m content to remain as I am. Once again, good handshake to you and Gauguin.

Ever yours,

Vincent

Bygones be bygones...

__________

The Van Gogh-Gauguin letter, in the original French and English translation with footnotes, can be found here.

__________

Images courtesy of Christie's, with our thanks.

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Extraordinary John Lennon Letter To Eric Clapton: Join My New Band!

by Stephen J. Gertz

A spectacular, significant and revealing eight-page handwritten and signed  letter, undated but c. mid-late 1969, from John Lennon to Eric Clapton inviting him to team up in a new band, is being offered by auctioneer Profiles in History in its Property of a Distinguished American Private Collector sale on December 18, 2012. It is estimated to sell for $20,000 - $30,000.

Over a thousand words, it was written by Lennon on behalf of Yoko and him after the Beatles  split-up and Lennon and Ono were seeking an opportunity to create music of a more profound and artistic nature - and "revolutionary." Clapton had left Cream when it curdled, intent on pursuing a solo career. Lennon and Clapton had originally met in the mid-1960s when Eric was with The Yardbirds and they had remained friends.

Their careers were in a state of flux and John sensed a unique opportunity. "I’ve/we’ve long admired your music—and always kept an eye open to see what you’ve been up to lately. I really feel I/we can bring out the best in you."

The letter reads in full:

Dear Eric and

I’ve been meaning to write or call you for a few weeks now. I think maybe writing will give you and yours more time to think.

You must know by now that Yoko and I rate your music and yourself very highly, always have. You also know the kind of music we’ve been making and hope to make. Anyway, the point is, after missing the Bangla-Desh concert, we began to feel more and more like going on the road, but not the way I used to with the Beatles—night after night of torture. We mean to enjoy ourselves, take it easy, and maybe even see some of the places we go to! We have many ‘revolutionary’ ideas for presenting shows that completely involve the audience—not just as ‘Superstars’ up there—blessing the people—but that’s another letter really.

I’ll get more to the point. We’ve asked Klaus [Voormann], Jim Keltner, Nicky Hopkins — Phil Spector even! to form a ‘nucleus’ group (Plastic Ono Band)—and between us all would decide what—if any—augmentation to the group we’d like—e.g. saxs, vocal group, they all agreed so far—and of course we had YOU!!! in mind as soon as we decided.

In the past when Nicky  was working around (Stones, etc.) bringing your girl/woman/wife was frowned on—with us it’s the opposite, Nicky’s missus—will also come with us—on stage if she wants (Yoko has ideas for her!)—or backstage. Our uppermost concern is to have a happy group in body and mind. Nobody will be asked to do anything that they don’t want to, no-one will be held to any contract of any sort—(unless they wanted to, of course!).

Back to music. I’ve/we’ve long admired your music—and always kept an eye open to see what you’ve been up to lately. I really feel I/we can bring out the best in you—(same kind of security, financial or otherwise will help) but the main thing is the music. I consider Klaus, Jim, Nicky, Phil, Yoko, and you could make the kind of sound that could bring back the Balls in rock ‘n’ roll.

Both of us have been thru the same kind of shit/pain that I know you’ve had—and I know we could help each other in that area—but mainly Eric—I know I can bring out something great—in fact greater in you that had been so far evident in your music, I hope to bring out the same kind of greatness in all of us—which I know will happen if/when we get together. I’m not trying to pressure you in any way and would quite understand if you decide against joining us, we would still love and respect you. We’re not asking you for your ‘name,’ I’m sure you know this—it’s your mind we want!

Yoko and I are not interested in earning bread from public appearances, but neither do we expect the rest of the band (who mostly have families) to work for free—they/you must all be happy money wise as well—otherwise what’s the use for them to join us. We don’t ask you/them to ratify everything we believe politically—but we’re certainly interested in “revolutionizing” the world thru music, we’d love to 'do' Russia, China, Hungary, Poland, etc. 

A friend of ours just got back from Moscow, and the kids over there are really hip—they have all the latest sounds on tape from giant radios they have. 'Don’t come without your guitar' was the message they sent there are millions of people in the East—who needed to be exposed to our kind of freedom/music. We can change the world—and have a ball at the same time.

We don’t want to work under such pressure we feel dead on stage or have to pep ourselves up to live, maybe we could do 2 shows a week even, tentatively (nothing definite) goes like this:

I know we have to rehearse sometimes or other, I’m sick of going on and jamming every live session. I’ve also always wanted to go across the Pacific from the U.S. thru all those beautiful islands—across to Australia, New Zealand, Japan,--wherever, you know—Tahiti—Tonga—etc, so I came up with this.

How about a kind of 'Easy Rider' at sea. I mean we get EMI or some film co., to finance a big ship with 30 people aboard (including crew)—we take 8 track recording equipment with us (mine probably) movie equipment—and we rehearse on the way over—record if we want, play anywhere we fancy— say we film from L.A. to Tahiti, we stop there if we want—maybe have the film developed there—stay a week or as long as we want—collect the film (of course) we’ll probably film wherever we stop (if we want) and edit it on board etc. (Having just finished a movie we made around our albums ‘Imagine’ & ‘Fly’—it’s a beautiful surreal film, very surreal, all music, only about two words spoken in the whole thing! We know we are ready to make a major movie). Anyway it’s just a thought, we’d always stay as near to land as possible, and of course, we’d take doctors etc, in case of any kind of bother. We’d always be able to get to a place where someone could fly off if they’ve had enough. The whole trip could take 3-4-5-6 months, depending how we all felt—all families, children whatever are welcome etc. Please don’t think you have to go alone with the boat trip, to be in the band. I just wanted to let you know everything we’ve been talking about. (I thought we’d really be ready to hit the road after such a healthy restful rehearsal.)

Anyway, there it is, if you want to talk more please call us, or even come over here to N. York. We’re at the St. Regis, here til Nov. 30 at least (753-4500- ext/room 1701) all expenses paid of course! Or write. At least think about it, please don’t be frightened, I understand paranoia, only too well, I think it could only do good for you, to work with people who love and respect you, and that’s from all of us.

Lots of love to you both from, John & Yoko.

Lennon's reference in his greeting to "Eric and" and later to  "you both" and "you and yours" refers to Paula Boyd, 17-year-old sister of Pattie Boyd, George Harrison's wife, with whom Clapton (a friend of Harrison) was involved in a thus far unrequited love affair painful for all concerned. Patty was the someone behind Harrison's Something; Paula subbed for Patty until she learned that the lady behind Clapton's  love-sick plea, Layla, was her sister. That's not the half of it; the entire saga is one of rock's greatest soap operas.

"'Becoming American' won't stop the pain..."

A few years ago I had a marvelous first edition association copy of Arthur Janov's The Primal Scream inscribed in March 1970 - within nine months of the letter under notice - by Lennon to Clapton pass through my hands with similar references, "Eric +" and "you and yours." Paula Boyd was, apparently, She Who Must Remain Nameless. Here, John reached out to his close friend once again to offer support during a time of personal turmoil for Eric. Nine months after the inscription's date Paula got the message and left Clapton..

Clapton played with The Plastic Ono Band in December 1969 during its Live Peace in Toronto performance but did not become a full-time member.

This historic letter from rock n' roll's most progressive voice and towering icon to the greatest guitarist of his generation is a draft. The content of the final version is unknown.

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Images courtesy of Profiles in History, with our thanks.
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Of Related Interest:

Yoko Ono Collects Rare Books: The Booktryst Interview.

Paul McCartney's Handwritten Lyrics To "Lovely Rite" Offered At $175,000.
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Hemingway Letter Recounts Near-Fatal Plane Crash

by Stephen J. Gertz

A signed autograph letter written by Earnest Hemingway in the aftermath of two separate 1954 plane crashes in Uganda, in which he and wife, Mary, were injured while on safari, has come to auction.

The letter is addressed to Kit Figgis, who, with her husband, Larry, assisted the Hemingways in the aftermath of the accidents and contributed to an article about their safari that was published in Look magazine, as Hemingway notes. British citizens who lived in Africa during the 1950s, Larry and Kit Figgis were  parents to noted film director, Mike Figgis, who, though born in England, grew up in Africa.

Here, Hemingway provides a  proud laundry list of his injuries while in recovery. The letter, dated March 17, 1954,  reads in part:

"Dear Kit: 

I must have been pretty punchy when I wrote you the enclosed. Sent it as a curiosity you can always sell it for the children. I'll get you the name of a dealer. What I sorted out to, according to…doctor, very practical type, was: major concussion, rupture one kidney, damage liver, collapse of intestines, Paralysis sphincter, 3/4 lost sight in one eye (left) (never any good anyway), Burns head, Brush fire = burns on lips (light), left hand severe, right forearm ditto, abdomen (light), legs (Light). Am beating all raps OK. But you can't beat lives many…Had cable from Bill Lowe that everything sold and 1st installment in Look April 20th on the newsstands…Kit this trip has been a little rugged. All the effects were delayed. Good thing we did the piece when we did although we could have done it the worst days ever saw…If I haven't paid Major…(there are about 2 blank weeks) give him my permanent address 90 Guaranty Trust Co of N.Y. 4 Place de la Concorde, Paris, France and tell him to bill me there…Please kiss my godson…Love Papa."

Of note is that Hemingway is aware that his letters are collectible - within his lifetime; most unusual - and that he knows a dealer who sells them.

Bidding closes today, January 27, 2011 at 5PM at Nate Sanders Auctions, details here.

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Image courtesy of Nate D. Sanders Auctions, with our  thanks.
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