Anatole France - Humour noir et graveleux

Autographed letter signed by Anatole France, writer and Nobel Prize in Literature laureate. The letter is undated. Written in black ink on cream sheet. Anatole France humorously, with a grave humor, speaks of an intimate affection of his friend, then relates the macabre anecdote of a Russian dignitary's death from typhoid and the theological complications of his burial. “hohwald - Sunday. my dear Noël, you have an unlucky hand, as it seems, and when I say the hand... take great care of it so that you do not leave yourself any discomfort. That is all my morality. Meanwhile you no longer remove ladies by arm’s length and you only retain the pleasure of sorting autographs. Here we have enough rain and a wind strong enough to uproot all the firs in the mountain. If some remain standing it is because they obstinately persist. We do like them, but it’s hard. There is in the hotel a Russian family. The father suffered indigestion, nosebleeds, fever. The wife had the doctor from Barr called. - Sir, would you be kind enough to tell me what my husband has? - It’s typhoid fever, madam, everything indicates it. - Thank you, sir; you may retire; I have my book... typhoid, page 118. The lady did everything that was marked on page 118 and the patient died on the eighth day of his illness. On his arrival morning at Hohwald, he had walked in the cemetery that overlooks a pretty valley at the foot of a curtain of tall beech trees, and there he had said: - If I die here, I want to be buried in this cemetery. We were much hindered from carrying out this wish, because the parish priest of Hohwald would not consent to lay a Christian who had not believed in life that the Spirit proceeds from the Son in the small square conveniently placed. You know, my dear Noël, that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son; thus you shall be saved, despite the irregularities of your conduct. The widow of the Russian had an idea; she bought a field of clover adjoining the cemetery, separated from it only by a living hedge. That is where we buried Friday at five o’clock, in a coffin entirely plated with silver, this Russian who had come with us to rest at Hohwald. A greasy priest from Paris said the prayers in a black velvet cape. This Russian was governor of Siberia. A traveler told the Russian’s son yesterday, a little ten-year-old boy: - You have suffered a great loss, my dear. - Yes sir, the child replied. And the Emperor has suffered a great loss as well. That is all I had to tell. It isn’t cheerful, but it isn’t my fault. Tell Stefano that a letter from him would be precious to me and that I have a guilty tenderness for him. Also tell him that my autographs are valid at Hohwald and that I make about a half-dozen every day. Tell Fernand, whose soul is bronze, that I am carefully keeping his note on Lully. Tell Claudius to keep my friendship and give me news of the little one. yours. Dimensions: 12.1 x 18.4 cm Condition: Very beautiful condition. See photos for more details. Pages: 4 pages Careful shipping in a rigid, waterproof packaging. - Anatole France, civil registry name François Anatole Thibault, born April 16, 1844 in Paris and died October 12, 1924 in Saint-Cyr-sur-Loire, is a French writer. He is regarded as one of the greatest of the Third Republic era, of which he was also one of the most important literary critics. Wikipedia

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