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First edition with the illustrations by Lydis, one of 350 copies on Rives (total edition 382).

The novel first appeared in 1936. Montherlant is remembered partly through the lens of Simone de Beauvoir, who chastised his misogyny and anti-feminism in The Second Sex. The disdain for adult homosexuality he expressed in public took on disturbing dimensions when viewed in the context of his private paedophilia, fully revealed only after his death. He was, however, an important connection for Mariette Lydis and was one of her first acquaintances on her arrival in Paris; he later wrote several appreciations of her work.

First edition of Lydis’s exquisite illustrations for selected passages from the Qur’ān, inspired by Persian miniatures. The plates, in colours and gold, were printed by Ganymed in Berlin, the text by Poeschel & Trepte in Leipzig. The book is known with several publishers’ bindings, and is here in its most striking form, with a vellum spine and marbled paper covers and slipcase (resembling Rorschach tests).

The Koran, and the miniatures Lydis created from it represent a Damascene moment in the artist’s career. They are reproduced here from her originals painted on vellum, made while she was still living in a villa outside Athens with her second husband, Jean Lydis. She later recalled their inception:

‘One day I found a copy of the Quran in the bookshop, and absorbed in reading it, finding it so full of wisdom, I suddenly decided that I had to illustrate it. Today I realize the audacity of that decision: I had no experience, nor did I possess any technique, I only felt the impatience to obtain the parchments necessary to start working.
I executed the illustrations like Persian miniatures, full of details in the landscapes and the clothing; for the first time I felt the benevolent fever of continuous work, day and night absorbed in my drawings and my colours.
In a few months I completed 42 illustrations, meticulous and colourful; I didn’t know whether they were magnificent or insignificant, but I loved them and was obsessed to the point of buying a small safe to protect them in case the villa caught fire. The house did not burn down, and my Quran, my first child, was finally published and sold out. Today I look at it without emotion, although it was decisive for my career as an artist. Many other illustrations followed it, and we are unfaithful to our works. Nevertheless, I could say that until now none of them has provoked in me the same intoxication as that work, which sprang from me like a fountain, effortlessly and before even thinking whether I could accomplish such a thing.
With my Quran completed I set out for Paris and London in search of a publisher; after a long pilgrimage I found someone interested [in Germany], and left with my contract in my pocket. That was more than satisfaction; it was the affirmation of a feeling and of the hope that had grown in me during months of work: that my paintings could produce in other people an emotion similar to mine, that I had the possibility of communicating to others what I wanted them to feel, something priceless and unpredictable for an artist. To always give the best of oneself. What one achieves seems (at least for the moment) like a realisation, an entity. Who could ever know how the public will react, what their judgement will be? Will they feel sympathy, aversion, tenderness, or hostility toward what they see before them? That public will be their judge, their friend, or their executioner. (Translated from an excerpt from Lydis’ 1942 Buenos Aires memoir, in Spanish, reproduced in Correa, En Busca de Mariette Lydis, pp. 73-4)

First edition, a charming children’s book with a Gallo-Roman setting, illustrated throughout by Lydis.

First edition, tirage de tête, copy number 6 of 30 copies on Japon (total edition 1100). A witty appreciation of Joseph Delteil, in the form of an ironic literary hagiography by his friends. Novelist and critic Joseph Delteil was associated primarily with the Surrealists, but he was an early admirer of the work of Mariette Lydis and also her lover for part of 1928. It was Delteil who observed that Lydis ‘paints with her breasts’, a remark which proved to be a controversial subversion of Renoir’s claim to ‘paint with my prick’ (Gluzman, ‘Desire, Mystery, Devotion: On Mariette Lydis’s Trajectory’, ISFLAA NY, ‘From the Desk of...’ 22 November 2024).

A unique artist’s book evidently made by Mariette Lydis for her subject, the otherwise unidentified young woman, Basia. The title on the wooden boards and the title-page is lettered by hand (gold and red respectively) and the latter is signed and dated. The first drawing is a magnificent portrait head in pencil on vellum, with lips and eyes heightened with colour, followed by three more large portraits of Basia: seated in a loose dress, standing in buttoned shorts and sandals, and breastfeeding an infant. If the volume is then turned over and opened, a very different sequence appears. It opens with three pages of letterpress text ― the artist’s passionate appreciation of her subject followed by three superb nude drawings of Basia.
The printed dedication must have been composed and set (in handsome Garamond italic) solely for this unique copy. We can find no trace of it elsewhere, and since it leaves no doubt as to the strength and quality of the artist’s feelings for her model, we reproduce it in full. It is also one of the few sustained examples of Lydis’s writing from this period and we cannot fail to be struck by her appreciation of a young woman described in androgynous terms as a young ‘éphèbe’ (a young Greek warrior) and as an epitome of modernity. The artist would have been 46 or 47 when she drew this young woman, and we have been unable to make any positive identification of Basia in Lydis sources or elsewhere. It reads:
Basia, jeune femme longue et souple, rieuse et très prête aux larmes, toute d’aujourd’hui, toute clarté ― abandon ― franchise.
Elle inonde la chambre dans laquelle elle entre d’un rayonnement ingénu, d’une tendresse tremblante des ses douces folies féminines. A la fois jeune pâtre, mère louve, paysanne solide qui ne craint pas le froid mais les fantômes, Basia transplantée dans n’importe quelle situation sera toujours à sa place.
La maison de Basia donne sur un vieux jardin. Inutile de sommer, la porte est toujours ouverte. C’est une maison adorable, une des rares maisons où je me sente à mon aise ; et ce n’est pas à cause des deux Mariette Lydis accrochés aux murs ; c’est que j’aime respirer l’air de ces pièces : j’aime la cage ronde habité par une rangée de ces tout petits oiseaux frileux qui meurent constamment sans qu’on puisse les pleurer, l’aquarium plein des gros poissons chinois et ventru, l’ecran de papillons de toute taille et multicolores.
Voicie le fond sur lequel se détache Basia. Un irish terrier et un chat vaguement persan complètent l’ameublement.
Basia a deux enfants qu’elle a faits toute seule et qu’on lui reproche.
Son apparence de jeune éphèbe aux seins irréprochables est toute neuve ; elle est neuve dans ce qu’elle dit, qu’elle fait, sans pose, sans artifice.
D’une simplicité vibrante, d’une spontanéité violent, elles est prête à l’attaque, à la défense, à l’émotion ― toujours. Même habillée, elle est nue, d’une nudité d’enfant ou d’animal, ingénuement, sans affectation.
Elle pose de grands pieds aux orteils bien séparés sur un tapis gris clair.
Toute impulsion ― oui, non ― sans réflexion aucune (et c’est bien ainsi), toute instinct, elle est faite d’élans, d’enthousiasmes, d’un bel égoïsme dans le sens grec du mot : ELLE ― ce qu’elle aime et peu d’autre chose.
Voìla Basia.
The portrait on vellum seems to have been something of an experiment for Mariette Lydis (in keeping with the modernity of her appreciation for Basia). It is set within a paper frame with clear a cellophane guard (which has subsequently rippled, perhaps encouraging the vellum below to do the same (to a lesser extent). Lydis had recently completed a commission for the Nonesuch Press in London, illustrating The Greek Portrait (1934). The publisher experimented with encasing the plates in clear cellophane, a material largely untested in book production, which later shrank in most copies, leaving the plates slightly cockled. It is interesting to see Lydis use the same here in this one-off production.

First edition, a total edition of 75 numbered copies, with plates signed by the artist, this being one of 60 copies on Hollande. Lucian’s text dates from the second century AD and the translation used here is that of Nicolas Perrot d’Ablancourt, of the seventeenth century. ‘Although on the periphery of the classical canon, Lucian’s text was popular with European and American audiences in the 1920s and 1930s as work that stimulated discourse on alternative sexualities’ (Paula Birnbaum, Women Artists in Interwar France: Framing Femininities, 2011, p. 208, and after, discussing a specific print from this edition which ‘celebrates the sexuality of a lesbian couple on the Greek island of Lesbos... represented by two modern-looking, naked women embracing passionately’).
This copy contains the printed notice that it was reserved for the artists Antoine ‘Tony’ Marie Charles de Lyée de Belleau and Annie de Villeneuve-Esclapon, on the occasion of their marriage. Carteret IV, p. 235: ‘Intéressant publication’. Worldcat: Bibliothèque nationale, Montpellier, Yale, Library of Congress, Boston Public Library only, to which we add the Edinburgh copy.

First edition of this collection with the Lydis illustrations. Number 85 of 165 copies and contains the inscription: ‘A Ida, avec toute mon amitié — en souvenir d’une semaine heureuse passée auprès d’elle. Mariette Lydis Paris 1934’ likely to have been addressed to the Russian-born dancer Ida Rubinstein.

Chant des Amazones is a celebration of female athleticism in verse, prose and image and is dedicated to ‘une jeune fille victorieuse dans la course des 1,000 mètres’. The texts are drawn from Montherlant’s Les Onze devant la porte dorée (1924) which he had written against the background of preparations for the 1924 Paris Olympics. Women’s participation in Olympic athletics was then extremely limited, but the decade after 1924 witnessed its rapid expansion and a general enthusiasm for women’s sport, reflected in this book. Well-known as a writer, Montherlant was an important contact for Lydis throughout her career though his posthumous reputation has revealed him as a serial pederast and dabbler in right-wing politics. His later works were marked by distinct anti-feminism and misogyny. Lydis’ illustrations are fresh and well-meaning, but her evident sexualisation of pubescent girls is troubling to the modern eye. The book was issued in handsome silver, green and turquoise lithographed wrappers.

A most attractive Catholic primer for the communion, evidently bound as a gift with an unusual Berlin work embroidered panel. ‘Berlin wool work is embroidery with Berlin wools or any type of thread or beads on canvas by means of copying a coloured chart known as a Berlin pattern. Almost exclusively confined to the 19th century, Berlin wool derived its name from the wool that came from Merino sheep in Saxony. It was taken to Gotha to be spun and on to Berlin to be dyed... Prior to the introduction of Berlin patterns it was very rare to find any indication about the choice of colour or threads. Berlin patterns were always coloured by hand at first, until the emergence of industrial printing techniques’ (V&A). Though the style originated in Germany, Berlin work was enthusiastically practised by women all over Europe and in North America

A complete set of drawings for a very rare engraved almanac for women, by one of the most prolific book illustrators of the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, comprising twelve mythological scenes, plus a title/frontispiece. These delightful miniatures were probably executed all together on a single larger sheet (in common with other examples of Desrais’ miniatures in the Musée Carnavalet, Paris) and later dissected for engraving and mounted. They are lively, witty and painstakingly executed — some are lightly erotic, though a far cry from some of Desrais’ more explicit published designs. Claude Louis Desrais (Paris 1746-1816) is best known for his many designs for fashion illustrations both before and after the Revolution, though his oeuvre was very various, according to prevailing demands. His miniatures for publications for duodecimo format and smaller publications are especially charming: La petite mythologie des Dames was issued in either 18mo or 32mo, though no library copies have been located. John Grand-Carteret had not seen a copy, but described it (from information received from a M. Bihn) as 32mo format, with 12 engravings and an engraved title, and the imprint of Lefuel at 54, rue Saint-Jacques, Paris, dating it to 1810. The later annotator of the box label correctly identifies the almanac, but erroneously gives the imprint of Brès (apparently a confusion with a later almanac printed by him).
Carteret lists the illustrations as follows: ‘Titre gravé dans un sujet allégorique... 1. La petite Mythologie des Dames (Vue de l’Olympe). - Les Noces d’Hercule. - 3 et 4. Vénus et Mars. - 5 et 6. L’Aventure d’Orphée et Eurydice. - 7. La curiosité trop punie (Orphée perdant Euridice. - 8. Les Soupirs d’Eurydice. - 9. Achille à la Cour de Lycomède. - 10. Les Amours d’Achille. - 11. Ruse d’Ulise. - 12. Achille Reconnu’ Carteret, Almanachs Français, 1604.

First edition of a rare pamphlet issued in the wake of the decree issued by the police prefect Claude Mangin on April 14, 1830, prohibiting prostitutes ‘from appearing, at any time and under any pretext, in the passages, in public gardens and on the boulevards’ and ordering them to engage in prostitution only in licensed brothels. This measure lasted only three months, but was enough for its opponents to publish dozens of pamphlets. All these occasional pieces are extremely rare, including this one.

Purporting to be the work of a Matrone, jurisconsulte de ces dames this enquiry and petition is satirical in tone, and yet still gives voice to the women it represents, by outlining in detail how Mangin’s heavy-handed decree would effect them at various levels, pointing out the impossibility of enclosing the thousands of Parisian filles de joie in licenses houses. The frontispiece, which has been attributed to Henri Monnier, shows a discussion among the women debating the pour et contre of the measures, presided over by the matron. It is captioned ‘Comité central et de Sabbat des Donzelles de Paris’, likening it to a ‘sabbath’ of witches. WorldCat lists copies at the Bn, Cleveland Public Library and Bryn Mawr College only.

A striking needlework pattern for Berlin-work. ‘Berlin wool work is embroidery with Berlin wools or any type of thread or beads on canvas by means of copying a coloured chart known as a Berlin pattern. Almost exclusively confined to the 19th century, Berlin wool derived its name from the wool that came from Merino sheep in Saxony. It was taken to Gotha to be spun and on to Berlin to be dyed... Prior to the introduction of Berlin patterns it was very rare to find any indication about the choice of colour or threads. Berlin patterns were always coloured by hand at first, until the emergence of industrial printing techniques’ (V&A). Though the patterns (which rarely survive) usually originated in Germany, Berlin work was enthusiastically practised by women all over Europe and in North America.

First edition of a detailed treatise on household management for young women, presented in epistolary form. It was to become very popular, running to several editions by the middle of the century, but the first edition is rare. Starting by establishing the principles of order and economy it proceeds to give advice on a suitable house, its furnishing (with chapters on the dining room, salon, bedrooms for both madame and monsieur, and kitchen). There is information on the linen provision and washing, and choice of fabrics, as well as on personal dress. Two of the longer chapters consider the appointment and operation of the wine cellar (over which the mistress of the house had control) and the kitchen, the latter with a selection of useful recipes and dishes.

Though separately-published, it is one of the volumes of the series Encyclopédie des Dames issued by Audot from 1821, which provided titles useful and interesting to women, all in portable format like this. This copy was apparently a subscriber’s copy, with the half-title bearing the printed statement ‘Exemplaire imprimé pour la Bibliothèque de Mademoiselle Emma de Kolly’, and it is therefore likely that the arms on the upper cover are also hers (though we have been unable to discover anything more about her). WorldCat finds only one copy of the first edition outside continental Europe (University of Michigan).

First edition of these three photographically illustrated albums, mainly portraits of contemporary Parisian actresses, dancers and singers, both from the mainstream theatres and the smaller dance halls and cafés-concerts. Reutlinger’s studio specialised in such portraits, usually actresses photographed in different degrees of deshabille in either studio settings or in the corridors and dressing rooms of the theatre. The voyeurism of the photographer is extended into bedroom and bathroom scenes intended to illustrate the daily routine of the ideal Parisienne. Sarah Bernhardt and Yvette Guilbert appear, while most subjects are now little-known but then much admired Parisian performers.

Illustrations of the ‘Pièces condamnées’ from Fleurs du mal. One of 30 copies, number 6 of 20 numbered copies (after 5 copies ‘avec suites’, and before 5 hors commerce copies). An exceptionally rare and provocative companion to the Fleurs du mal collection issued in the same year, by a highly idiosyncratic female artist about comparatively little is known. It contains the six poems banned in 1857: ‘Lesbos’, ‘Femmes damnés’, ‘Le Léthé’, ‘À celle qui est trop gaie’, ‘Les Bijoux’ and ‘Les Métamorphoses du Vampire’. The texts are incorporated into the etched plates with particularly explicit illustration. The plates are deeply etched with areas of velvety blackness, heightened by hand with subtle colouring and painted gold.

Active between 1907 and 1935, Jouvet-Magron worked mainly in Paris, becoming a member of the Salon des Artistes Français in 1908. Though productive and much respected in the early years of the twentieth-century The artist’s identity was sufficiently obscure for two reviewers in The Print Connoisseur in 1923 to assume ‘Dominique’ referred to a male artist: the first, Clement-Janin, noted the ‘exceptionally modern temperament’ behind Jouvet-Magron’s etchings of ‘those temples of labour—the factories’. He also noted ‘Dominque Jouvet-Magron is not a pupil of the Ecole des Beaux Arts and has had no teacher’, while a G. Desdevises du Dezert, Dean of the Faculty of Letters of Clermont-Ferrand, adds that ‘the poetry of industrial life has not escaped him [sic]’. he Print Connoisseur lists 42 plates and suites, of French churches, factories, industrial machinery, portraits of Henri Magron (the artist’s father -in-law), opium smokers, danses macabres and a messe noire — all surely indicating a perfect future artist for Fleurs du Mal.

Jouvet-Magron’s IX Poèmes des Fleurs du mal and Pièces condamnées (both 1931) were exhibited at the Salon international du Livre d'art at the Petit Palais, May-August 1931 where complaints were received and the books removed from the show. While illustrations of Baudelaire often pushed boundaries, it’s easy to see why Jouvet-Magron’s might have shocked, especially those for Pièces condamnées which are particularly explicit. The matter was reported both in France and abroad, revealing that it was used as a test case for the continued official suppression of six poems of Fleurs du mal, still in force since they were first banned in 1857. The so called Pièces condamnées (‘Lesbos’, ‘Femmes damnés’, ‘Le Léthé’, ‘À celle qui est trop gaie’, ‘Les Bijoux’ and ‘Les Métamorphoses du Vampire’), were widely printed, despite their legal status, and publishers and critics in the thirties seemed to have used Jouvet-Magron’s collection, which reproduced the text alongside her images, as a means to bring the legal anomaly to public attention. In the event the publication of Fleurs du mal was not decriminalised until 1949. The Print Connoisseur, 3, p. 91. Worldcat lists the Bibliothèque nationale copy only.

Madame Gabrielle Boissier ran a finishing school (’Etablissement libre d’Enseignement supérieur’). for English and American girls in an impressive house at 14 avenue Gourgand, in the 17th arrondissement. The prospectus illustrates its elegant interior (salons, dining room, two libraries and bedrooms). The text includes an enthusiastic testimonial in English describing life at the school and its associated activities.

This little pocket book has been densely filled with diary notes by a young girl or young woman, presumably one Flora Keene. She copies out several hymns at the opening, and then completes every day of her diary, with dense and minute notes, now very hard to read, mainly noting family comings and goings. The frontispiece by John Leech entitled ‘Volunteer Movement — Jones & Family go under Canvas’ is a satire on the British volunteer rifle corps, formed in 1859 as a response to public fears of a French invasion. There is also a series of delightful vignettes by Tenniel on Shakespearean quotations.

First edition of an early collection of poetry by Fletcher (1863–1935), perhaps better known for his detective fiction.  This copy inscribed by the English poet Olive Custance to the American writer and salonnière Natalie Clifford Barney —‘To Natalie … The Poet and Lover … from the “Little Princess”’— on the front flyleaf.   
‘An avid reader of Pre-Raphaelite and aesthetic literature’, in the 1890s, Custance (1874–1944) ‘developed somewhat flirtatious relationships with John Lane, Henry Harland, and Richard Le Gallienne—respectively the publisher, editor, and reader of The Yellow Book.  Custance was one of the most prolific women poets published in this notorious journal, with poems appearing in eight of its thirteen volumes …
‘Custance’s first poetry volume, Opals, was published in 1897 by The Bodley Head [the same year as Fletcher’s] …  The poems addressed to John Gray were also included in this volume, along with several other love poems directed at ambiguously gendered beloveds.  Such sexual ambiguity was reflected in Custance’s love life during this period.  In the winter of 1900 she received an admiring letter from Natalie Barney, the openly lesbian author and salon hostess.  Custance was invited by Barney to Paris, where she also befriended the symbolist poet Renée Vivien (Barney’s former lover).  Accounts of this ménage are contradictory.  Barney’s autobiography stated that Vivien was jealous of Custance; however, Vivien’s letters and her roman-à-clef A Woman Appeared to Me (1904)—in which Custance appeared as Dagmar—suggest that she and Custance enjoyed a brief love affair during the winter of 1901 
‘During this period, in June 1901, Custance wrote a letter of admiration to Lord Alfred Douglas (1870–1945).  The poets began to correspond, using the personas of “Fairy Prince” for Douglas, and “Princess” and “Page” for Custance’ (Oxford DNB), which may account for the inscription here.
 

Unique artist’s book in manuscript. Les Yeux au ciel contains one of the densest concentrations of De Bournazel’s unique symbolism to date, its sixteen pages bearing a plethora of human, animal and hybrid figures (some prominent, others slyly hidden) and a vortex-like mise en page. Like several other works by this artist, it explores the boundary between the conscious and unconscious, and expresses an elastic sense of time and space. Using the unique quality of the successively-turned book page as her primary medium, De Bournazel encourages her ‘readers’ to look forwards, backwards and inwards with cut windows opening unexpected sightlines and pathways through the codex.

First edition, inscribed by the author’s father to Edmund Gosse of this posthumous novel by Toru Dutt (1856-1877), Indian poet, translator, and novelist. Dutt was born in Calcutta and received her early education there, both in Indian and European languages, under the encouragement of her mother and father (the latter a colonial administrator). ‘In 1869, when she was aged thirteen, and at a time when conservative Hindus believed that crossing the ‘black waters’ was blasphemous, the Dutt family travelled by sea to Europe. Toru and her elder sister Aru were the first Bengali girls to dare such a transgression’ (Chandani Lokugé in ODNB). Toru studied French in Nice and Paris, and English in London and Cambridge. On returning to India she continued her reading of French and British Romantics such as Hugo, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley as well as the Brontës and Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She also began an intensive course of study in Sanskrit, while at the same time adapting her new knowledge to retell legends from the Mahabharata in English, using traditional English poetic forms. She died of consumption in 1877 at the age of just twenty-one, by which time she had written four books, of which only one, A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields (1876), was published in her lifetime.

The novel Le Journal de Mademoiselle d’Arvers, was set in Brittany, France, and was published only posthumously. ‘The manuscript, hand-copied by Govin Chunder, was sent to Clarisse Bader, who contributed a foreword, and with whose assistance it was published by Didier in Paris in 1879 and included in the Librarie Académique’. It was an ‘exciting hybrid between the nineteenth-century European gothic romance and the realist genres, and can be read as the creative experiment by a talented novice writer inspired by her reading of European literature’ (Lokugé).

For Western readers, as both a young woman and as an Indian writing in English, a great deal of the interest in Toru Dutt’s poetry was due to her familiarity with English and French literature. Edmund Gosse was an enthusiastic patron and wrote: ‘it would seem that the marvellous facilities of Toru’s mind still slumbered, when, in her thirteenth year, her father decided to take his daughters to Europe to learn English and French. To the end of her days Toru was a better French than English scholar. She loved France best, she knew its literature best, she wrote its language with more perfect elegance.’ (Ancient Ballads, xii). Worldcat lists copies at BL and University of Manitoba only outside continental Europe.

Caroline Naudet (1775-1839), one of the very few female caricaturists of her era, she was the daughter of the caricaturist Thomas-Charles Naudet. She is known as the artist of some 25 separate satirical prints c. 1817-1823. The plate depicts an older well-dressed lady sitting for an urbane looking artist. The caption reads:

‘Une dame de qualite faisant faire son portrait s'efforcait de se retrecir la bouche l'artiste s'en appercut et lui dit pour peu que madame le veuille je n'en ferait pas du tout’ (A lady of quality having her portrait done was trying to narrow her mouth. The artist noticed this and said to her, if Madam would like it, I won’t paint it at all). Benezit III, 347.