Symons - Aubrey Beardsley

This book made available by the Internet Archive.

TO CONDER

IN MEMORY OF 1895 AT DIEPPE

NOTE

In its first form this book was published in 1897. The essay itself remains unaltered, but I have enlarged the prefatory account of Beardsley to almost twice its original size, and instead of six reproductions of designs there are now twenty-nine. I have to thank M. Jacques Blanche for permission to reproduce his portrait of Beardsley, painted at Dieppe in 1895 ; Mr Andre RafFalovich for permission to reproduce two drawings in his possession which appeared for the first time in the first edition of this book ; Mr Charles Holme for permission to reproduce "Isolde" and "Chopin's Third Ballade"; also to Mr F. H. Evans for the suggestion and use of some hitherto unused drawings and reproductions, and Mr John Lane and Mr Dent for permission to reproduce the remainder of the illustrations.

CONTENTS

CAGt

Preface....... i ;^

Aubrey Beardsley ...... 25

Reproductions of Pictures....49

Portrait by Jacques Blanche {Phdogravure)

Frontispiece

Facsimile of Translation from Catullus ("Savoy") facing 13

Tailpiece from Bon Mots.....47

Merlin ("Morte Darthur") .... 49

How King Arthur saw the Questing Beast and

thereof had Great Marvel....51

Vignette from "Morte Darthur" .. -53

Vignette from "Morte Darthur" .. -55

Vignette from "Morte Darthur" .. -57

Vignette from " Morte Darthur "...59

Vignette from "Morte Darthur"...61

Vignette from "Morte Darthur"...63

Vignette from " Morte Darthur "... 6^

Vignette from "Morte Darthur"...67

La Beale Isoud at Joyous Gard ("Morte Darthur") . 69

How La Beale Isoud nursed Sir Tristram ("Morte

Darthur") ...... 71

Grotesque from "Bon Mots"... 73

Grotesque from "Bon Mots"... - 75

Grotesque from "Bon Mots" .. , 77

B I I

Design for the Binding of "Bon Mots," not used, and not published before

Le Debris d'un PofeTE

The Mirror of Love

The Platonic Lament ("Salome") .

The Climax ("Salome")

The Mysterious Rose-Garden ("Yellow Book")

La Dame aux Cam^lias ("Yellow Book")

Chopin's Third Ballade ("Studio")

The Baron's Prayer ("Rape of the Lock")

The Fruit-Bearers ("Savoy")

The Coiffing ("Savoy")

Raphael Sanzio

The Return of Tannhauser to the Venusberg

79 8i

83 85 87 89

91 93 95 97

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PREFACE

TT was in the summer of 1895 that I first met Aubrey Beardsley. A publisher had asked me to form and edit a new kind of magazine, which was to appeal to the public equally in its letterpress and its illustrations: need I say that I am defining the " Savoy P " It was, I admit, to have been something of a rival to the " Telloiv Book" which had by that time ceased to mark a movement, and had come to be little more than a publisher's magazine. I forget exactly when the expulsion of Beardsley from the " Telloiv Book " had occurred ; it had been sufficiently recent, at all events, to make Beardsley singularly ready to fall in with my project when I went to him and asked him to devote himself to illustrating my quarterly. He was supposed, just then, to be dying; and as I entered the room, and saw him lying out on a couch, horribly white, I wondered if I had come too late. He was full of ideas, full of enthusiasm, and I think it was then that he suggested the name " Savoy" finally adopted after endless changes and uncertainties.

AUBREY BEARDSLEY

A little later we met again at Dieppe, where for a month I saw him daily. It was at Dieppe that the " Savoy " was really planned, and it was in the cafe' which Mr Sickert has so often painted that I wrote the slightly pettish and defiant " Editorial Note," which made so many enemies for the first number. Dieppe just then was a meeting-place for the younger generation; some of us spent the whole summer there, lazily but profitably; others came and went. Beardsley at that time imagined himself to be unable to draw anywhere but in London. He made one or two faint attempts, and even prepared a canvas for a picture which was never painted, in the hospitable studio in which M. Jacques Blanche painted the admirable portrait reproduced in the frontispiece. But he found many subjects, some of which he afterwards worked out, in the expressive opportunities of the Casino and the beach. He never walked; I never saw him look at the sea; but at night he was almost alv^^ays to be seen watching the gamblers at petits cbevaux, studying them with a sort of hypnotised attention for that picture of " The Little Horses^'' which was never done. He liked the large, deserted rooms, at hours when no one was there; the sense of frivolous things caught at a moment of

AUBREY BEARDSLEY

suspended life, en deshabille. He would glance occasionally, but with more impatience, at the dances, especially the children's dances, in the concert room; but he rarely missed a concert, and would glide in every afternoon, and sit on the high benches at the side, always carrying his large, gilt-leather portfolio with the magnificent, old, red-lined folio paper, which he would often open, to write some lines in pencil. He was at work then, with an almost pathetic tenacity, at his story, never to be finished, the story which never could have been finished, " Under the Hill^'' a new version, a parody (like Laforgue's parodies, but how unlike them, or anything !) of the story of Venus and Tannhauser. Most of it was done at these concerts, and in the little, close writing-room, where visitors sat writing letters. The fragment published in the first two numbers of the " Savoy " had passed through many stages before it found its w^ay there, and would have passed through more if it had ever been carried further. Tannhauser, not quite willingly, had put on Abbe's disguise, and there were other unwilling disguises in those brilliant, disconnected, fantastic pages, in which every sentence was meditated over, written for its own sake, and left to find its way in its own paragraph. It could never have been finished,

AUBREY BEARDSLEY

for it had never really been begun; but what undoubted, singular, literary ability there is in it, all the same !

I think Beardsley would rather have been a great writer than a great artist; and I remember, on one occasion, when he had to fill up a form of admission to some library to which I was introducing him, his insistence on describing himself as " man of letters." At one time he was going to write an essay on " Les Liaisons Dangereuses" at another he had planned a book on Rousseau. But his plans for writing changed even more quickly than his plans for doing drawings, and with less profitable results in the meantime. He has left no prose except that fragment of a story; and in verse only the three pieces published in the Savoy. Here, too, he was terribly anxious to excel; and his patience over a medium so unfamiliar, and hence so difficult, to him as verse, was infinite. We spent two whole days on the grassy ramparts of the old castle at Arques-la-Bataille, near Dieppe; I working at something or other in one part, he working at " The Three Musicians " in another. The eight stanzas of that amusing piece of verse are really, in their own way, a tour de force; by sheer power of will, by deliberately saying to himself, " I will write a poem," and by work