FRENCH CANCAN - ROSE-POMPON (Elvire Hamelin, married name Bo - Lot 24

Lot 24
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FRENCH CANCAN - ROSE-POMPON (Elvire Hamelin, married name Bo - Lot 24
FRENCH CANCAN - ROSE-POMPON (Elvire Hamelin, married name Bonzé, 1824–1895, a courtesan and French cancan dancer, she was a star of Parisian high society during the Second Empire, alongside her friends and rivals Modeste Mogador, Nini-patte-en-l’air, Rigolboche, Reine Pomaré, and other “Lionesses”; she later published her memoirs recounting her incredible life) / Exceptional autograph signed letter, 4 pages in-8, on letter paper bearing the embossed coat of arms of Russian Prince Gortchakov, whose mistress she was at the time, Bucharest, April 3 [circa 1853–54, in the midst of the Crimean War), to Amédée Achard [1814–1875, journalist, novelist]; the writing is disjointed, the spelling uncertain, and the punctuation nonexistent: He will be surprised to receive a letter from her, from a country that will interest a man of wit such as himself: “Doesn’t the idea strike you as funny that a funny little thing like me should find myself in Bucharest, in the midst of wars?” “I’ve seen it all; two years ago in Moldova, love turned me into a Greek; now, because of the war, I’m becoming Russian,” “Do you find the idea amusing? And you, dear Achard, won’t you come and see this country too?” “I assure you there would be plenty of material for your serialized stories.” “Frankly, I’m getting very bored. I’ve been living in Bucharest, Calafat—well, the whole area around Bucharest—for seven months now, and it’s always the same topic of conversation: war, politics,” “I have to tell you that I fired a cannon in Giurgevo [now Giurgiu, southern Romania]—you should have seen it! I can’t tell you everything I’ve done, what I’m thinking, and a thousand other things, since my letter won’t reach you [sic],” “I wrote to my friend Romieu [Auguste Romieu, the director of the Beaux-Arts and also a writer, who frequented the grisettes] a few months ago; if by any chance you see him, please let him know I’ve written a letter and, in the meantime, convey a thousand kind regards from me; and to my dear friends, I urge you to join me for dinner in six weeks, since I’m leaving these famous principalities that have all of Europe in a tizzy today,” “I certainly hope the newspapers will announce my arrival—what a sight I’ve seen here, except for the war, but among other things,” “I share the Russian viewpoint, and I’ve caught the Russian ‘v.’ (virus)—a rather poor pun. Oh well, in times of war! For the moment, I am the mistress of Prince Gortchakoff [n.b.: Alexander Gortchakov, 1798–1883, a prominent Russian political figure and diplomat who played an important role during the Crimean War, hence the letterhead bearing the coat of arms]— “Drink to my health, go give my Romeo a kiss for me; if you run into any friends—male or female—who mention me, tell them that no cannonball has hit me yet”—She signs: “Your friend Rose-Pompon in the war-torn Principalities”
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