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three papers with handwriting on them sitting on top of each otherseveral old letters are on a piece of paper on a white surfacean open book with a drawing of a house and a handwritten lettera close up of a piece of paper with writing on itseveral old letters and a piece of paper with writing on themseveral old letters and a picture of a man ' s handwrittensseveral old papers are stacked on top of each other on a white surfaceseveral old letters and envelopes are on display on a white surfacemany different types of old french wine labels on a white backgroundseveral old papers are stacked on top of each other on a tablemany different types of pamphlets on a white surface
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107 - Sacha Guitry (1885–1957), playwright and actor
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Estimate €2,000 - €4,000
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Description
Sacha Guitry (1885–1957), playwright and actor A collection comprising correspondence, invitations, a speech, a photograph and miscellaneous items FIND THE FULL AND DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF THIS LOT IN OUR ONLINE AUCTION CATALOGUE 29 letters to the sender/from the sender/to the recipient, some with stamped envelopes, and 16 telegrams, 1918–1947, including: Letter, Paris, 38 Rue Scheffer, undated [February 1918], two seats reserved at the Théâtre du Vaudeville for a performance of the play *Deburau* Letter from the author, Paris, 4 October 1926, expressing thanks for the publication of an article on Sacha Guitry Letter from the sender, Paris, 11 June 1930, a letter of recommendation to meet the physicist and doctor Edouard Branly, with an addressed envelope Letter from the sender, Paris, 28 June 1939; elected to the Académie Goncourt Letter from the author, 2 October 1939 My dearest friend, you came to Paris and I didn’t know about it – why? Albert told me: ‘He’ll be back next week.’ I’d taken that to mean we’d arranged to meet! You didn’t come back? I’m sorry to hear that. Your two great articles in *Candide* are marvellous. They’re written to the rhythm of your heartbeat. By the very last line, one is breathless – my word, it soars! and soars again. Let me, as a faithful and affectionate friend, share in your emotion and your anguish. And I don’t want to wait until the end of my letter to send my love to both of you, to her and to you. Horrors are unfolding at the front; monstrosities are taking place in Poland. And I have the impression that things are happening in Paris that aren’t very pleasant. Oh! Clemenceau! For the past fortnight I’ve been organising something very close to my heart. I’ve brought together: Victor Boucher, Max Dearly, Gaby Morlay, Elvire Popesco, Raimu, Mireille and us; we’re going to travel from town to town; Orléans, Tours, Angers, Angoulême, and so on – all on a voluntary basis, at our own expense and without any subsidies – and at each performance we intend to raise enough to donate an ambulance to the Red Cross. Each ambulance will bear the name of the town where the proceeds were raised. We need to raise an average of 46,000 francs. The entire proceeds will be donated, and I am very hopeful. Afterwards, I will likely visit neutral countries with the same aim. Please send me your phrase written fifteen times on fifteen sheets of paper: ‘One cannot live under the Germans. One can die under them.’ And sign it. It is for an auction to be held later today L.S., Paris, 12 September 1940 + handwritten draft of part of the letter in pencil, signed This is the third letter I am writing to you. The first two were returned to me and, with all my heart, I hope that this one will finally reach you; in the hope that it will, I can think of nothing better to do than to copy out the first of those letters. I was telling you: At last! At last, I have news of you, and with what emotion and joy I have just read and reread your letter! So, I’m sending you a big hug right now. I’ll do so again later when I say goodbye, but I don’t want to wait any longer to do so, for I’ve been worried sick about you for weeks on end, ever since that letter in which you told me of your mad determination to set off by bicycle. I pictured you on the roads, exhausted, sweating, and I was haunted by the dreadful thought of your scar reopening. Ah! How right you were to stay at home—do stay there. Yes, we’re in Paris. After five weeks of treatment in Dax, following the disaster, we’ve returned to our ‘homes’. We managed it without too much trouble, thanks, it must be said, to the occupier’s goodwill. If we’d relied solely on our own people, we’d no doubt still be in some refugee camp. On that subject, I’ll tell you a thousand details later that will both amuse and distress you. Among other things, Bergson’s departure—neglected by the French, alas!—and saluted by a platoon of German soldiers. (On that subject, I would like to know whether Mr Bergson is in good health and whether he has been able to return to his home in Saint-Cyr, opposite the Béchellerie, in France. Please enquire after him and, if you would be so kind, let me know.) As soon as I returned to Paris, I began rehearsals for *Pasteur*… etc. etc. And so, here is our latest news. We have performed *Pasteur* twice, to audiences that were not full, but which were electrified. The behaviour of the German officers encouraged the audience not to hide their feelings. FIND THE FULL AND DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF THIS LOT IN OUR ONLINE AUCTION CATALOGUE
See original version (French)
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About the sale René Benjamin, the 20th-century Balzac scholar
Auction location
Auction time 10/06/2026 at 2:00 PM
Pictures credits: Contact the Auction House
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