60 - Théophile Alexandre STEINLEN (1859–1923), painter and draftsman. Extensive correspondence with his son-in-law, the composer and conductor D.E. Inghelbrecht. 96 original letters (plus 6 telegrams), 1914–1923, 150 pages in-8 or in-4 format, numerous envelopes and address labels.

Théophile Alexandre STEINLEN (1859–1923), painter and draftsman. Extensive correspondence with his son-in-law, the composer and conductor D.E. Inghelbrecht. 96 original letters (plus 6 telegrams), 1914–1923, 150 pages in-8 or in-4 format, numerous envelopes and address labels. A very fine collection of letters, in which Steinlen is revealed in his private life, grappling with his art right up to the brink of death. July–August 1914. News from the house in Jouy, from the garden in bloom; rumors of war: “Paris is on edge”; demonstrations. Steinlen can’t seem to come up with any money. He’s going to visit “Papa Renoir, who has two sons in the army” and Willette. Will Switzerland enter the conflict? Suicides of young German women living in Paris. Paris is getting organized; mobilization is proceeding with precision. News from the front. Visit to Renoir. Poverty is spreading in Paris... “I’m worn out, afraid I might start having a bit of a nervous breakdown... this wouldn’t be the right time”... 1918–1920. Supply problems. A lovely letter in which Steinlen describes life at La Bechellerie, where he is working on his portrait of the “Good Master,” Anatole France. A visit to Paris, to the Villa Saïd, where France appears “cheerful, lucid, and in good health.” Steinlen dreams of the paintings in London’s museums. Steinlen gives news of his cats, notably Botzaris, who had an accident, and of whom he makes a pen-and-ink drawing. 1921. Inghelbrecht’s tour with the Swedish Ballets. Steinlen struggles to work on the illustrations for *La Chanson des Gueux*: “Where will my help come from—a lash of the whip or a kick (...) everything seems dull and insipid to me. I wish I could disappear”… Steinlen thinks of the Swedish Ballets, of Rolf de Mare, of the dancer Jean Borlin, of the dancer Carina Ari, and of his set designs for *Iberia*; he is in the throes of a creative slump, and *La Chanson des Gueux* is not progressing. Enthusiasm for GOYA: “What dwarfs we are compared to those people”… He has struck gold: “wash drawings slightly enhanced with color that, at little cost, ‘give the impression of fairly complete works’”… He is very interested in PROUST “despite his verbosity and his minutiae”… Exhibition in The Hague… 1922. Strikes, colds; inner life “still quite dull and dreary.” HEBERTOT requests sketches and models of sets and costumes for IBERIA. Steinlen applies for the position of master draftsman at the Museum. He mentions the Jardin des Plantes, where new tigers have arrived... He is tormented by boredom, “deadly boredom”; business is lackluster; he works without enthusiasm: “I’m going to get back to the engravings for *La Chanson* and *Crainquebille* for BARTHOU and two other enthusiasts”… Reflections on the Dutch and Flemish masters, and FROMENTIN’s book; on MAUROIS and the new PROUST works. The marvelous landscape near Toulon; a lyrical evocation of the Côte d’Azur... 1923. His discouragement grows stronger: “I force myself to work to try not to think about anything else—the result is hardly good”… He is unable to refuse “stupid chores.” He undertook to illustrate FRANCE’s *L’Ile des Pingouins*. He underwent a difficult dental procedure shortly before his death. A CRUCIAL ACCOUNT OF STEINLEN’S LAST YEARS.