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diff --git a/old/twomb10.txt b/old/twomb10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..26470f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/twomb10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3481 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext The Works of Max Beerbohm, by Beerbohm +#6 in our series by Max Beerbohm + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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Here are some approximate +translations (with thanks to a nameless Radlettite and +www.perseus.tufts.edu): +--philomathestatoi ton neaniskon: some of the youths most eager for +knowledge +--Ne^pios: childish +--hexeis apodeiktikai: things that can be proven (Aristotle, Nic. +Ethics) +--eido^lon amauron: shadowy phantom (phrase used by Homer in The +Odyssey to describe the specter Athena sends to comfort Penelope) +--all' aiei: but always +--tina pho^ta megan kai kalon edegmen: I received some great and +beautiful light + + + + + +The Works of Max Beerbohm + +by Max Beerbohm + + + + +With a Bibliography by John Lane + + + + +`Amid all he has here already achieved, full, we may +think, of the quiet assurance of what is to come, +his attitude is still that of the scholar; he +seems still to be saying, before all +things, from first to last, "I +am utterly purposed +that I will not +offend."' + +CONTENTS +Dandies and Dandies +A Good Prince +1880 +King George the Fourth +The Pervasion of Rouge +Poor Romeo! +Diminuendo +Bibliography + +Dandies and Dandies + +How very delightful Grego's drawings are! For all their mad +perspective and crude colour, they have indeed the sentiment of style, +and they reveal, with surer delicacy than does any other record, the +spirit of Mr. Brummell's day. Grego guides me, as Virgil Dante, +through all the mysteries of that other world. He shows me those +stiff-necked, over-hatted, wasp-waisted gentlemen, drinking Burgundy +in the Cafe' des Milles Colonnes or riding through the village of +Newmarket upon their fat cobs or gambling at Crockford's. Grego's +Green Room of the Opera House always delights me. The formal way in +which Mdlle. Mercandotti is standing upon one leg for the pleasure of +Lord Fife and Mr. Ball Hughes; the grave regard directed by Lord +Petersham towards that pretty little maid-a-mischief who is risking +her rouge beneath the chandelier; the unbridled decorum of Mdlle. +Hullin and the decorous debauchery of Prince Esterhazy in the +distance, make altogether a quite enchanting picture. But, of the +whole series, the most illuminative picture is certainly the Ball at +Almack's. In the foreground stand two little figures, beneath whom, on +the nether margin, are inscribed those splendid words, Beau Brummell +in Deep Conversation with the Duchess of Rutland. The Duchess is a +girl in pink, with a great wedge-comb erect among her ringlets, the +Beau tre`s de'gage', his head averse, his chin most supercilious upon +his stock, one foot advanced, the gloved fingers of one hand caught +lightly in his waistcoat; in fact, the very deuce of a pose. + +In this, as in all known images of the Beau, we are struck by the +utter simplicity of his attire. The `countless rings' affected by +D'Orsay, the many little golden chains, `every one of them slighter +than a cobweb,' that Disraeli loved to insinuate from one pocket to +another of his vest, would have seemed vulgar to Mr. Brummell. For is +it not to his fine scorn of accessories that we may trace that first +aim of modern dandyism, the production of the supreme effect through +means the least extravagant? In certain congruities of dark cloth, in +the rigid perfection of his linen, in the symmetry of his glove with +his hand, lay the secret of Mr. Brummell's miracles. He was ever most +economical, most scrupulous of means. Treatment was everything with +him. Even foolish Grace and foolish Philip Wharton, in their book +about the beaux and wits of this period, speak of his dressing-room as +`a studio in which he daily composed that elaborate portrait of +himself which was to be exhibited for a few hours in the clubrooms of +the town.' Mr. Brummell was, indeed, in the utmost sense of the word, +an artist. No poet nor cook nor sculptor, ever bore that title more +worthily than he. + +And really, outside his art, Mr. Brummell had a personality of almost +Balzacian insignificance. There have been dandies, like D'Orsay, who +were nearly painters; painters, like Mr. Whistler, who wished to be +dandies; dandies, like Disraeli, who afterwards followed some less +arduous calling. I fancy Mr. Brummell was a dandy, nothing but a +dandy, from his cradle to that fearful day when he lost his figure and +had to flee the country, even to that distant day when he died, a +broken exile, in the arms of two religieuses. At Eton, no boy was so +successful as he in avoiding that strict alternative of study and +athletics which we force upon our youth. He once terrified a master, +named Parker, by asserting that he thought cricket `foolish.' Another +time, after listening to a reprimand from the headmaster, he twitted +that learned man with the asymmetry of his neckcloth. Even in Oriel he +could see little charm, and was glad to leave it, at the end of his +first year, for a commission in the Tenth Hussars. Crack though the +regiment was--indeed, all the commissions were granted by the Regent +himself--young Mr. Brummell could not bear to see all his brother- +officers in clothes exactly like his own; was quite as deeply annoyed +as would be some god, suddenly entering a restaurant of many mirrors. +One day, he rode upon parade in a pale blue tunic, with silver +epaulettes. The Colonel, apologising for the narrow system which +compelled him to so painful a duty, asked him to leave the parade. The +Beau saluted, trotted back to quarters and, that afternoon, sent in +his papers. Henceforth he lived freely as a fop, in his maturity, +should. + +His de'but in the town was brilliant and delightful. Tales of his +elegance had won for him there a precedent fame. He was reputed rich. +It was known that the Regent desired his acquaintance. And thus, +Fortune speeding the wheels of his cabriolet and Fashion running to +meet him with smiles and roses in St. James's, he might well, had he +been worldly or a weakling, have yielded his soul to the polite +follies. But he passed them by. Once he was settled in his suite, he +never really strayed from his toilet-table, save for a few brief +hours. Thrice every day of the year did he dress, and three hours were +the average of his every toilet, and other hours were spent in council +with the cutter of his coats or with the custodian of his wardrobe. A +single, devoted life! To White's, to routs, to races, he went, it is +true, not reluctantly. He was known to have played battledore and +shuttlecock in a moonlit garden with Mr. Previte' and some other +gentlemen. His elopement with a young Countess from a ball at Lady +Jersey's was quite notorious. It was even whispered that he once, in +the company of some friends, made as though he would wrench the +knocker off the door of some shop. But these things he did, not, most +certainly, for any exuberant love of life. Rather did he regard them +as healthful exercise of the body and a charm against that dreaded +corpulency which, in the end, caused his downfall. Some recreation +from his work even the most strenuous artist must have; and Mr. +Brummell naturally sought his in that exalted sphere whose modish +elegance accorded best with his temperament, the sphere of le plus +beau monde. General Bucknall used to growl, from the window of the +Guards' Club, that such a fellow was only fit to associate with +tailors. But that was an old soldier's fallacy. The proper associates +of an artist are they who practise his own art rather than they who-- +however honourably--do but cater for its practice. For the rest, I am +sure that Mr. Brummell was no lackey, as they have suggested. He +wished merely to be seen by those who were best qualified to +appreciate the splendour of his achievements. Shall not the painter +show his work in galleries, the poet flit down Paternoster Row? Of +rank, for its own sake, Mr. Brummell had no love. He patronised all +his patrons. Even to the Regent his attitude was always that of a +master in an art to one who is sincerely willing and anxious to learn +from him. + +Indeed, English society is always ruled by a dandy, and the more +absolutely ruled the greater that dandy be. For dandyism, the perfect +flower of outward elegance, is the ideal it is always striving to +realise in its own rather incoherent way. But there is no reason why +dandyism should be confused, as it has been by nearly all writers, +with mere social life. Its contact with social life is, indeed, but +one of the accidents of an art. Its influence, like the scent of a +flower, is diffused unconsciously. It has its own aims and laws, and +knows none other. And the only person who ever fully acknowledged this +truth in aesthetics is, of all persons most unlikely, the author of +Sartor Resartus. That any one who dressed so very badly as did Thomas +Carlyle should have tried to construct a philosophy of clothes has +always seemed to me one of the most pathetic things in literature. He +in the Temple of Vestments! Why sought he to intrude, another Clodius, +upon those mysteries and light his pipe from those ardent censers? +What were his hobnails that they should mar the pavement of that +delicate Temple? Yet, for that he betrayed one secret rightly heard +there, will I pardon his sacrilege. `A dandy,' he cried through the +mask of Teufelsdro"ck, `is a clothes-wearing man, a man whose trade, +office, and existence consists in the wearing of clothes. Every +faculty of his soul, spirit, purse, and person is heroically +consecrated to this one object, the wearing of clothes wisely and +well.' Those are true words. They are, perhaps, the only true words in +Sartor Resartus. And I speak with some authority. For I found the key +to that empty book, long ago, in the lock of the author's empty +wardrobe. His hat, that is still preserved in Chelsea, formed an +important clue. + +But (behold!) as we repeat the true words of Teufelsdro"ck, there +comes Monsieur Barbey D'Aurevilly, that gentle moqueur, drawling, with +a wave of his hand, `Les esprits qui ne voient pas les choses que par +leur plus petit co^te', ont imagine' que le Dandysme e'tait surtout +l'art de la mise, une heureuse et audacieuse dictature en fait de +toilette et d'e'le'gance exte'rieure. Tre`s-certainement c'est cela +aussi, mais c'est bien davantage. Le Dandysme est toute une manie`re +d'e^tre et l'on n'est pas que par la co^te' mate'riellement visible. +C'est une manie`re d'e^tre entie`rement compose'e de nuances, comme il +arrive toujours dans les socie'te's tre`s-vieilles et tre`s- +civilise'es.' It is a pleasure to argue with so suave a subtlist, and +we say to him that this comprehensive definition does not please us. +We say we think he errs. + +Not that Monsieur's analysis of the dandiacal mind is worthless by any +means. Nor, when he declares that George Brummell was the supreme king +of the dandies and fut le dandysme me^me, can I but piously lay one +hand upon the brim of my hat, the other upon my heart. But it is as an +artist, and for his supremacy in the art of costume, and for all he +did to gain the recognition of costume as in itself an art, and for +that superb taste and subtle simplicity of mode whereby he was able to +expel, at length, the Byzantine spirit of exuberance which had +possessed St. James's and wherefore he is justly called the Father of +Modern Costume, that I do most deeply revere him. It is not a little +strange that Monsieur D'Aurevilly, the biographer who, in many ways, +does seem most perfectly to have understood Mr. Brummell, should +belittle to a mere phase that which was indeed the very core of his +existence. To analyse the temperament of a great artist and then to +declare that his art was but a part--a little part--of his +temperament, is a foolish proceeding. It is as though a man should say +that he finds, on analysis, that gunpowder is composed of potassium +chloride (let me say), nitrate and power of explosion. Dandyism is +ever the outcome of a carefully cultivated temperament, not part of +the temperament itself. That manie`re d'e^tre, entie`rement compose'e +de nuances, was not more, as the writer seems to have supposed, than +attributory to Mr. Brummell's art. Nor is it even peculiar to dandies. +All delicate spirits, to whatever art they turn, even if they turn to +no art, assume an oblique attitude towards life. Of all dandies, Mr. +Brummell did most steadfastly maintain this attitude. Like the single- +minded artist that he was, he turned full and square towards his art +and looked life straight in the face out of the corners of his eyes. + +It is not hard to see how, in the effort to give Mr. Brummell his due +place in history, Monsieur D'Aurevilly came to grief. It is but +strange that he should have fallen into a rather obvious trap. Surely +he should have perceived that, so long as Civilisation compels her +children to wear clothes, the thoughtless multitude will never +acknowledge dandyism to be an art. If considerations of modesty or +hygiene compelled every one to stain canvas or chip marble every +morning, painting and sculpture would in like manner be despised. Now, +as these considerations do compel every one to envelop himself in +things made of cloth and linen, this common duty is confounded with +that fair procedure, elaborate of many thoughts, in whose accord the +fop accomplishes his toilet, each morning afresh, Aurora speeding on +to gild his mirror. Not until nudity be popular will the art of +costume be really acknowledged. Nor even then will it be approved. +Communities are ever jealous (quite naturally) of the artist who works +for his own pleasure, not for theirs--more jealous by far of him whose +energy is spent only upon the glorification of himself alone. Carlyle +speaks of dandyism as a survival of `the primeval superstition, self- +worship.' `La vanite',' are almost the first words of Monsieur +D'Aurevilly, `c'est un sentiment contre lequel tout le monde est +impitoyable.' Few remember that the dandy's vanity is far different +from the crude conceit of the merely handsome man. Dandyism is, after +all, one of the decorative arts. A fine ground to work upon is its +first postulate. And the dandy cares for his physical endowments only +in so far as they are susceptible of fine results. They are just so +much to him as to the decorative artist is inilluminate parchment, the +form of a white vase or the surface of a wall where frescoes shall be. + +Consider the words of Count D'Orsay, spoken on the eve of some duel, +`We are not fairly matched. If I were to wound him in the face it +would not matter; but if he were to wound me, ce serait vraiment +dommage!' There we have a pure example of a dandy's peculiar vanity-- +`It would be a real pity!' They say that D'Orsay killed his man--no +matter whom--in this duel. He never should have gone out. Beau +Brummell never risked his dandyhood in these mean encounters. But +D'Orsay was a wayward, excessive creature, too fond of life and other +follies to achieve real greatness. The power of his predecessor, the +Father of Modern Costume, is over us yet. All that is left of +D'Orsay's art is a waistcoat and a handful of rings--vain relics of no +more value for us than the fiddle of Paganini or the mask of +Menischus! I think that in Carolo's painting of him, we can see the +strength, that was the weakness, of le jeune Cupidon. His fingers are +closed upon his cane as upon a sword. There is mockery in the +inconstant eyes. And the lips, so used to close upon the wine-cup, in +laughter so often parted, they do not seem immobile, even now. Sad +that one so prodigally endowed as he was, with the three essentials of +a dandy--physical distinction, a sense of beauty and wealth or, if you +prefer the term, credit--should not have done greater things. Much of +his costume was merely showy or eccentric, without the rotund unity of +the perfect fop's. It had been well had he lacked that dash and +spontaneous gallantry that make him cut, it may be, a more attractive +figure than Beau Brummell. The youth of St. James's gave him a +wonderful welcome. The flight of Mr. Brummell had left them as sheep +without a shepherd. They had even cried out against the inscrutable +decrees of fashion and curtailed the height of their stocks. And (lo!) +here, ambling down the Mall with tasselled cane, laughing in the +window at White's or in Fop's Alley posturing, here, with the devil in +his eyes and all the graces at his elbow, was D'Orsay, the prince +paramount who should dominate London and should guard life from +monotony by the daring of his whims. He accepted so many engagements +that he often dressed very quickly both in the morning and at +nightfall. His brilliant genius would sometimes enable him to appear +faultless, but at other times not even his fine figure could quite +dispel the shadow of a toilet too hastily conceived. Before long he +took that fatal step, his marriage with Lady Harriet Gardiner. The +marriage, as we all know, was not a happy one, though the wedding was +very pretty. It ruined the life of Lady Harriet and of her mother, the +Blessington. It won the poor Count further still further from his art +and sent him spinning here, there, and everywhere. He was continually +at Cleveden, or Belvoir, or Welbeck, laughing gaily as he brought down +our English partridges, or at Crockford's, smiling as he swept up our +English guineas from the board. Holker declares that, excepting Mr. +Turner, he was the finest equestrian in London and describes how the +mob would gather every morning round his door to see him descend, +insolent from his toilet, and mount and ride away. Indeed, he +surpassed us all in all the exercises of the body. He even essayed +pree"minence in the arts (as if his own art were insufficient to his +vitality!) and was for ever penning impenuous verses for circulation +among his friends. There was no great harm in this, perhaps. Even the +handwriting of Mr. Brummell was not unknown in the albums. But +D'Orsay's painting of portraits is inexcusable. The aesthetic vision +of a dandy should be bounded by his own mirror. A few crayon sketches +of himself--dilectissimae imagines--are as much as he should ever do. +That D'Orsay's portraits, even his much-approved portrait of the Duke +of Wellington, are quite amateurish, is no excuse. It is the process +of painting which is repellent; to force from little tubes of lead a +glutinous flamboyance and to defile, with the hair of a camel therein +steeped, taut canvas, is hardly the diversion for a gentleman; and to +have done all this for a man who was admittedly a field-marshal.... + +I have often thought that this selfish concentration, which is a part +of dandyism, is also a symbol of that einsamkeit felt in greater or +less degree by the practitioners of every art. But, curiously enough, +the very unity of his mind with the ground he works on exposes the +dandy to the influence of the world. In one way dandyism is the least +selfish of all the arts. Musicians are seen and, except for a price, +not heard. Only for a price may you read what poets have written. All +painters are not so generous as Mr. Watts. But the dandy presents +himself to the nation whenever he sallies from his front door. Princes +and peasants alike may gaze upon his masterpieces. Now, any art which +is pursued directly under the eye of the public is always far more +amenable to fashion than is an art with which the public is but +vicariously concerned. Those standards to which artists have gradually +accustomed it the public will not see lightly set at naught. Very +rigid, for example, are the traditions of the theatre. If my brother +were to declaim his lines at the Haymarket in the florotund manner of +Macready, what a row there would be in the gallery! It is only by the +impalpable process of evolution that change comes to the theatre. +Likewise in the sphere of costume no swift rebellion can succeed, as +was exemplified by the Prince's effort to revive knee-breeches. Had +his Royal Highness elected, in his wisdom, to wear tight trousers +strapped under his boots, `smalls' might, in their turn, have +reappeared, and at length--who knows?--knee-breeches. It is only by +the trifling addition or elimination, modification or extension, made +by this or that dandy and copied by the rest, that the mode proceeds. +The young dandy will find certain laws to which he must conform. If he +outrage them he will be hooted by the urchins of the street, not +unjustly, for he will have outraged the slowly constructed laws of +artists who have preceded him. Let him reflect that fashion is no +bondage imposed by alien hands, but the last wisdom of his own kind, +and that true dandyism is the result of an artistic temperament +working upon a fine body within the wide limits of fashion. Through +this habit of conformity, which it inculcates, the army has given us +nearly all our finest dandies, from Alcibiades to Colonel Br*b*z*n de +nos jours. Even Mr. Brummell, though he defied his Colonel, must have +owed some of his success to the military spirit. Any parent intending +his son to be a dandy will do well to send him first into the army, +there to learn humility, as did his archetype, Apollo, in the house of +Admetus. A sojourn at one of the Public Schools is also to be +commended. The University it were well to avoid. + +Of course, the dandy, like any other artist, has moments when his own +period, palling, inclines him to antique modes. A fellow-student once +told me that, after a long vacation spent in touch with modern life, +he had hammered at the little gate of Merton and felt of a sudden his +hat assume plumes and an expansive curl, the impress of a ruff about +his neck, the dangle of a cloak and a sword. I, too, have my Eliza- +bethan, my Caroline moments. I have gone to bed Georgian and awoken +Early Victorian. Even savagery has charmed me. And at such times I +have often wished I could find in my wardrobe suitable costumes. But +these modish regrets are sterile, after all, and comprimend. What +boots it to defy the conventions of our time? The dandy is the `child +of his age,' and his best work must be produced in accord with the +age's natural influence. The true dandy must always love contemporary +costume. In this age, as in all precedent ages, it is only the +tasteless who cavil, being impotent to win from it fair results. How +futile their voices are! The costume of the nineteenth century, as +shadowed for us first by Mr. Brummell, so quiet, so reasonable, and, I +say emphatically, so beautiful; free from folly or affectation, yet +susceptible to exquisite ordering; plastic, austere, economical, may +not be ignored. I spoke of the doom of swift rebellions, but I doubt +even if any soever gradual evolution will lead us astray from the +general precepts of Mr. Brummell's code. At every step in the progress +of democracy those precepts will be strengthened. Every day their +fashion is more secure, corroborate. They are acknowledged by the +world. The barbarous costumes that in bygone days were designed by +class-hatred, or hatred of race, are dying, very surely dying. The +costermonger with his pearl-emblazoned coat has been driven even from +that Variety Stage, whereon he sought a desperate sanctuary. The +clinquant corslet of the Swiss girl just survives at bals costume's. I +am told that the kilt is now confined entirely to certain of the +soldiery and to a small cult of Scotch Archai"cists. I have seen men +flock from the boulevards of one capital and from the avenues of +another to be clad in Conduit Street. Even into Oxford, that curious +little city, where nothing is ever born nor anything ever quite dies, +the force of the movement has penetrated, insomuch that tasselled cap +and gown of degree are rarely seen in the streets or colleges. In a +place which was until recent times scarcely less remote, Japan, the +white and scarlet gardens are trod by men who are shod in boots like +our own, who walk--rather strangely still--in close-cut cloth of +little colour, and stop each other from time to time, laughing to show +how that they too can furl an umbrella after the manner of real +Europeans. + +It is very nice, this universal acquiescence in the dress we have +designed, but, if we reflect, not wonderful. There are three apparent +reasons, and one of them is aesthetic. So to clothe the body that its +fineness be revealed and its meanness veiled has been the aesthetic +aim of all costume, but before our time the mean had never been +struck. The ancient Romans went too far. Muffled in the ponderous +folds of a toga, Adonis might pass for Punchinello, Punchinello for +Adonis. The ancient Britons, on the other hand, did not go far enough. +And so it had been in all ages down to that bright morning when Mr. +Brummell, at his mirror, conceived the notion of trousers and simple +coats. Clad according to his convention, the limbs of the weakling +escape contempt, and the athlete is unobtrusive, and all is well. But +there is also a social reason for the triumph of our costume--the +reason of economy. That austerity, which has rejected from its toilet +silk and velvet and all but a few jewels, has made more ample the +wardrobes of Dives, and sent forth Irus nicely dressed among his +fellows. And lastly there is a reason of psychology, most potent of +all, perhaps. Is not the costume of today, with its subtlety and +sombre restraint, its quiet congruities of black and white and grey, +supremely apt a medium for the expression of modern emotion and modern +thought? That aptness, even alone, would explain its triumph. Let us +be glad that we have so easy, yet so delicate, a mode of expression. + +Yes! costume, dandiacal or not, is in the highest degree expressive, +nor is there any type it may not express. It enables us to classify +any `professional man' at a glance, be he lawyer, leech or what not. +Still more swift and obvious is its revelation of the work and the +soul of those who dress, whether naturally or for effect, without +reference to convention. The bowler of Mr. Jerome K. Jerome is a +perfect preface to all his works. The silk hat of Mr. Whistler is a +real nocturne, his linen a symphony en blanc majeur. To have seen Mr. +Hall Caine is to have read his soul. His flowing, formless cloak is as +one of his own novels, twenty-five editions latent in the folds of it. +Melodrama crouches upon the brim of his sombrero. His tie is a +Publisher's Announcement. His boots are Copyright. In his hand he +holds the staff of The Family Herald. + +But the dandy, innowise violating the laws of fashion, can make more +subtle symbols of his personality. More subtle these symbols are for +the very reason that they are effected within the restrictions which +are essential to an art. Chastened of all flamboyance, they are from +most men occult, obvious, it may be, only to other artists or even +only to him they symbolise. Nor will the dandy express merely a crude +idea of his personality, as does, for example, Mr. Hall Caine, +dressing himself always and exactly after one pattern. Every day as +his mood has changed since his last toilet, he will vary the colour, +texture, form of his costume. Fashion does not rob him of free will. +It leaves him liberty of all expression. Every day there is not one +accessory, from the butterfly that alights above his shirt front to +the jewels planted in his linen, that will not symbolise the mood that +is in him or the occasion of the coming day. + +On this, the psychological side of foppery, I know not one so expert +as him whom, not greatly caring for contemporary names, I will call +Mr. Le V. No hero-worshipper am I, but I cannot write without +enthusiasm of his simple life. He has not spurred his mind to the +quest of shadows nor vexed his soul in the worship of any gods. No +woman has wounded his heart, though he has gazed gallantly into the +eyes of many women, intent, I fancy, upon his own miniature there. Nor +is the incomparable set of his trousers spoilt by the perching of any +dear little child upon his knee. And so, now that he is stricken with +seventy years, he knows none of the bitterness of eld, for his toilet- +table is an imperishable altar, his wardrobe a quiet nursery and very +constant harem. Mr. Le V. has many disciples, young men who look to +him for guidance in all that concerns costume, and each morning come, +themselves tentatively clad, to watch the perfect procedure of his +toilet and learn invaluable lessons. I myself, a lie-a-bed, often +steal out, foregoing the best hours of the day abed, that I may attend +that leve'e. The rooms of the Master are in St. James's Street, and +perhaps it were well that I should give some little record of them and +of the manner of their use. In the first room the Master sleeps. He is +called by one of his valets, at seven o'clock, to the second room, +where he bathes, is shampooed, is manicured and, at length, is +enveloped in a dressing-gown of white wool. In the third room is his +breakfast upon a little table and his letters and some newspapers. +Leisurely he sips his chocolate, leisurely learns all that need be +known. With a cigarette he allows his temper, as informed by the news +and the weather and what not, to develop itself for the day. At +length, his mood suggests, imperceptibly, what colour, what form of +clothes he shall wear. He rings for his valet--`I will wear such and +such a coat, such and such a tie; my trousers shall be of this or that +tone; this or that jewel shall be radiant in the folds of my tie.' It +is generally near noon that he reaches the fourth room, the dressing- +room. The uninitiate can hardly realise how impressive is the +ceremonial there enacted. As I write, I can see, in memory, the whole +scene--the room, severely simple, with its lemon walls and deep +wardrobes of white wood, the young fops, philomathestatoi ton +neaniskon, ranged upon a long bench, rapt in wonder, and, in the +middle, now sitting, now standing, negligently, before a long mirror, +with a valet at either elbow, Mr. Le V., our cynosure. There is no +haste, no faltering, when once the scheme of the day's toilet has been +set. It is a calm toilet. A flower does not grow more calmly. + +Any of us, any day, may see the gracious figure of Mr. Le V., as he +saunters down the slope of St. James's. Long may the sun irradiate the +surface of his tilted hat! It is comfortable to know that, though he +die to-morrow the world will not lack a most elaborate record of his +foppery. All his life he has kept or, rather, the current valets have +kept for him, a Journal de Toilette. Of this there are now fifty +volumes, each covering the space of a year. Yes, fifty springs have +filled his button-hole with their violets; the snow of fifty winters +has been less white than his linen; his boots have outshone fifty +sequences of summer suns, and the colours of all those autumns have +faded in the dry light of his apparel. The first page of each volume +of the Journal de Toilette bears the signature of Mr. Le V. and of his +two valets. Of the other pages each is given up, as in other diaries, +to one day of the year. In ruled spaces are recorded there the cut and +texture of the suit, the colour of the tie, the form of jewellery that +was worn on the day the page records. No detail is omitted and a +separate space is set aside for `Remarks.' I remember that I once +asked Mr. Le V., half in jest, what he should wear on the Judgment +Day. Seriously, and (I fancied) with a note of pathos in his voice, he +said to me, `Young man, you ask me to lay bare my soul to you. If I +had been a saint I should certainly wear a light suit, with a white +waistcoat and a flower, but I am no saint, sir, no saint.... I shall +probably wear black trousers or trousers of some very dark blue, and a +frock-coat, tightly buttoned.' Poor old Mr. Le V.! I think he need not +fear. If there be a heaven for the soul, there must be other heavens +also, where the intellect and the body shall be consummate. In both +these heavens Mr. Le V. will have his hierarchy. Of a life like his +there can be no conclusion, really. Did not even Matthew Arnold admit +that conduct of a cane is three-fourths of life? + +Certainly Mr. Le V. is a great artist, and his supremacy is in the +tact with which he suits his toilet to his temperament. But the +marvellous affinity of a dandy's mood to his daily toilet is not +merely that it finds therein its perfect echo nor that it may even be, +in reflex, thereby accentuated or made less poignant. For some years I +had felt convinced that in a perfect dandy this affinity must reach a +point, when the costume itself, planned with the finest sensibility, +would change with the emotional changes of its wearer, automatically. +But I felt that here was one of those boundaries, where the fields of +art align with the fields of science, and I hardly dared to venture +further. Moreover, the theory was not easy to verify. I knew that, +except in some great emotional crisis, the costume could not palpably +change its aspect. Here was an impasse; for the perfect dandy--the +Brummell, the Mr. Le V.--cannot afford to indulge in any great emotion +outside his art; like Balzac, he has not time. The gods were good to +me, however. One morning near the end of last July, they decreed that +I should pass through Half Moon Street and meet there a friend who +should ask me to go with him to his club and watch for the results of +the racing at Goodwood. This club includes hardly any member who is +not a devotee of the Turf, so that, when we entered it, the cloak-room +displayed long rows of unburdened pegs--save where one hat shone. None +but that illustrious dandy, Lord X., wears quite so broad a brim as +this hat had. I said that Lord X. must be in the club. + +`I conceive he is too nervous to be on the course,' my friend replied. +`They say he has plunged up to the hilt on to-day's running.' + +His lordship was indeed there, fingering feverishly the sinuous +ribands of the tape-machine. I sat at a little distance, watching him. +Two results straggled forth within an hour, and, at the second of +these, I saw with wonder Lord X.'s linen actually flush for a moment +and then turn deadly pale. I looked again and saw that his boots had +lost their lustre. Drawing nearer, I found that grey hairs had begun +to show themselves in his raven coat. It was very painful and yet, to +me, very gratifying. In the cloak-room, when I went for my own hat and +cane, there was the hat with the broad brim, and (lo!) over its iron- +blue surface little furrows had been ploughed by Despair. + +Rouen, 1896. + + +A Good Prince + +I first saw him one morning of last summer, in the Green Park. Though +short, even insignificant, in stature and with an obvious tendency to +be obese, he had that unruffled, Olympian air, which is so sure a sign +of the Blood Royal. In a suit of white linen he looked serenely cool, +despite the heat. Perhaps I should have thought him, had I not been +versed in the Almanach de Gotha, a trifle older than he is. He did not +raise his hat in answer to my salute, but smiled most graciously and +made as though he would extend his hand to me, mistaking me, I doubt +not, for one of his friends. Forthwith, a member of his suite said +something to him in an undertone, whereat he smiled again and took no +further notice of me. + +I do not wonder the people idolise him. His almost blameless life has +been passed among them, nothing in it hidden from their knowledge. +When they look upon his dear presentment in the photographer's window- +-the shrewd, kindly eyes under the high forehead, the sparse locks so +carefully distributed--words of loyalty only and of admiration rise to +their lips. For of all princes in modern days he seems to fulfil most +perfectly the obligation of princely rank. Ne^pios he might have been +called in the heroic age, when princes were judged according to their +mastery of the sword or of the bow, or have seemed, to those mediaeval +eyes that loved to see a scholar's pate under the crown, an ignoramus. +We are less exigent now. We do but ask of our princes that they should +live among us, be often manifest to our eyes, set a perpetual example +of a right life. We bid them be the ornaments of our State. Too often +they do not attain to our ideal. They give, it may be, a half-hearted +devotion to soldiering, or pursue pleasure merely--tales of their +frivolity raising now and again the anger of a public swift to envy +them their temptations. But against this admirable Prince no such +charges can be made. Never (as yet, at least) has he cared to `play at +soldiers.' By no means has he shocked the Puritans. Though it is no +secret that he prefers the society of ladies, not one breath of +scandal has ever tinged his name. Of how many English princes could +this be said, in days when Figaro, quill in hand, inclines his ear to +every key-hole? + +Upon the one action that were well obliterated from his record I need +not long insist. It seems that the wife of an aged ex-Premier came to +have an audience and pay her respects. Hardly had she spoken when the +Prince, in a fit of unreasoning displeasure, struck her a violent blow +with his clenched fist. Had His Royal Highness not always stood so far +aloof from political contention, it had been easier to find a motive +for this unmannerly blow. The incident is deplorable, but it belongs, +after all, to an earlier period of his life; and, were it not that no +appreciation must rest upon the suppression of any scandal, I should +not have referred to it. For the rest, I find no stain, soever faint, +upon his life. The simplicity of his tastes is the more admirable for +that he is known to care not at all for what may be reported in the +newspapers. He has never touched a card, never entered a play-house. +In no stud of racers has he indulged, preferring to the finest blood- +horse ever bred a certain white and woolly lamb with a blue riband to +its neck. This he is never tired of fondling. It is with him, like the +roebuck of Henri Quatre, wherever he goes. + +Suave and simple his life is! Narrow in range, it may be, but with +every royal appurtenance of delight, for to him Love's happy favours +are given and the tribute of glad homage, always, here and there and +every other where. Round the flower-garden at Sandringham runs an old +wall of red brick, streaked with ivy and topped infrequently with +balls of stone. By its iron gates, that open to a vista of flowers, +stand two kind policemen, guarding the Prince's procedure along that +bright vista. As his perambulator rolls out of the gate of St. James's +Palace, he stretches out his tiny hands to the scarlet sentinels. An +obsequious retinue follows him over the lawns of the White Lodge, +cooing and laughing, blowing kisses and praising him. Yet do not +imagine his life has been all gaiety! The afflictions that befall +royal personages always touch very poignantly the heart of the people, +and it is not too much to say that all England watched by the cradle- +side of Prince Edward in that dolorous hour, when first the little +battlements rose about the rose-red roof of his mouth. I am glad to +think that not one querulous word did His Royal Highness, in his great +agony, utter. They only say that his loud, incessant cries bore +testimony to the perfect lungs for which the House of Hanover is most +justly famed. Irreiterate be the horror of that epoch! + +As yet, when we know not even what his first words will be, it is too +early to predict what verdict posterity will pass upon him. Already he +has won the hearts of the people; but, in the years which, it is to be +hoped, still await him, he may accomplish more. Attendons! He stands +alone among European princes--but, as yet, only with the aid of a +chair. + +London, 1895. + + +1880 + +Say, shall these things be forgotten +In the Row that men call Rotten, +Beauty Clare?--Hamilton Ai"de'. + +`History,' it has been said, `does not repeat itself. The historians +repeat one another.' Now, there are still some periods with which no +historian has grappled, and, strangely enough, the period that most +greatly fascinates me is one of them. The labour I set myself is +therefore rather Herculean. But it is also, for me, so far a labour of +love that I can quite forget or even revel in its great difficulty. I +would love to have lived in those bygone days, when first society was +inducted into the mysteries of art and, not losing yet its old and +elegant tenue, babbled of blue china and white lilies, of the painter +Rossetti and the poet Swinburne. It would be a splendid thing to have +seen the tableaux at Cromwell House or to have made my way through the +Fancy Fair and bartered all for a cigarette from a shepherdess; to +have walked in the Park, straining my eyes for a glimpse of the Jersey +Lily; danced the livelong afternoon to the strains of the Manola +Valse; clapped holes in my gloves for Connie Gilchrist. + +It is a pity that the historians have held back so long. For this +period is now so remote from us that much in it is nearly impossible +to understand, more than a little must be left in the mists of +antiquity that involve it. The memoirs of the day are, indeed, many, +but not exactly illuminative. From such writers as Frith, Montague +Williams or the Bancrofts, you may gain but little peculiar knowledge. +That quaint old chronicler, Lucy, dilates amusingly enough upon the +frown of Sir Richard (afterwards Lord) Cross or the tea-rose in the +Prime Minister's button-hole. But what can he tell us of the +negotiations that led Gladstone back to public life or of the secret +councils of the Fourth Party, whereby Sir Stafford was gradually +eclipsed? Good memoirs must ever be the cumulation of gossip. Gossip +(alas!) has been killed by the Press. In the tavern or the barber's- +shop, all secrets passed into every ear. From newspapers how little +can be culled! Manifestations are there made manifest to us and we are +taught, with tedious iteration, the things we knew, and need not have +known, before. In my research, I have had only such poor guides as +Punch, or the London Charivari and The Queen, the Lady's Newspaper. +Excavation, which in the East has been productive of rich material for +the archaeologist, was indeed suggested to me. I was told that, just +before Cleopatra's Needle was set upon the Embankment, an iron box, +containing a photograph of Mrs. Langtry, some current coins and other +trifles of the time, was dropped into the foundation. I am sure much +might be done with a spade, here and there, in the neighbourhood of +old Cromwell House. Accursed be the obduracy of vestries! Be not I, +but they, blamed for any error, obscurity or omission in my brief +excursus. + +The period of 1880 and of the two successive years should ever be +memorable, for it marks a great change in the constitution of English +society. It would seem that, under the quiet re'gime of the Tory +Cabinet, the upper ten thousand (as they were quaintly called in those +days,) had taken a somewhat more frigid tone. The Prince of Wales had +inclined to be restful after the revels of his youth. The prolonged +seclusion of Queen Victoria, who was then engaged upon that superb +work of introspection and self-analysis, More Leaves from the +Highlands, had begun to tell upon the social system. Balls and other +festivities, both at Court and in the houses of the nobles, were +notably fewer. The vogue of the Opera was passing. Even in the top of +the season, Rotten Row, I read, was not impenetrably crowded. But in +1880 came the tragic fall of Disraeli and the triumph of the Whigs. +How great a change came then upon Westminster must be known to any one +who has studied the annals of Gladstone's incomparable Parliament. +Gladstone himself, with a monstrous majority behind him, revelling in +the old splendour of speech that not seventy summers nor six years' +sulking had made less; Parnell, deadly, mysterious, with his crew of +wordy peasants that were to set all Saxon things at naught--the +activity of these two men alone would have made this Parliament +supremely stimulating throughout the land. What of young Randolph +Churchill, who, despite his halting speech, foppish mien and rather +coarse fibre of mind, was yet the greatest Parliamentarian of his day? +What of Justin Huntly McCarthy, under his puerile mask a most dark, +most dangerous conspirator, who, lightly swinging the sacred lamp of +burlesque, irradiated with fearful clarity the wrath and sorrow of +Ireland? What of Blocker Warton? What of the eloquent atheist, Charles +Bradlaugh, pleading at the Bar, striding past the furious Tories to +the very Mace, hustled down the stone steps with the broadcloth torn +in ribands from his back? Surely such scenes will never more be +witnessed at St. Stephen's. Imagine the existence of God being made a +party question! No wonder that at a time of such turbulence fine +society also should have shown the primordia of a great change. It was +felt that the aristocracy could not live by good-breeding alone. The +old delights seemed vapid, waxen. Something vivid was desired. And so +the sphere of fashion converged with the sphere of art, and revolution +was the result. + +Be it remembered that long before this time there had been in the +heart of Chelsea a kind of cult for Beauty. Certain artists had +settled there, deliberately refusing to work in the ordinary official +way, and `wrought,' as they were wont to asseverate, `for the pleasure +and sake of all that is fair.' Little commerce had they with the +brazen world. Nothing but the light of the sun would they share with +men. Quietly and unbeknown, callous of all but their craft, they +wrought their poems or their pictures, gave them one to another, and +wrought on. Meredith, Rossetti, Swinburne, Morris, Holman Hunt were in +this band of shy artificers. In fact, Beauty had existed long before +1880. It was Mr. Oscar Wilde who managed her de'but. To study the +period is to admit that to him was due no small part of the social +vogue that Beauty began to enjoy. Fired by his fervid words, men and +women hurled their mahogany into the streets and ransacked the curio- +shops for the furniture of Annish days. Dados arose upon every wall, +sunflowers and the feathers of peacocks curved in every corner, tea +grew quite cold while the guests were praising the Willow Pattern of +its cup. A few fashionable women even dressed themselves in sinuous +draperies and unheard-of greens. Into whatsoever ballroom you went, +you would surely find, among the women in tiaras and the fops and the +distinguished foreigners, half a score of comely ragamuffins in +velveteen, murmuring sonnets, posturing, waving their hands. Beauty +was sought in the most unlikely places. Young painters found her +mobled in the fogs, and bank-clerks, versed in the writings of Mr. +Hamerton, were heard to declare, as they sped home from the City, that +the Underground Railway was beautiful from London Bridge to +Westminster, but not from Sloane Square to Notting Hill Gate. + +Aestheticism (for so they named the movement,) did indeed permeate, in +a manner, all classes. But it was to the haut monde that its primary +appeal was made. The sacred emblems of Chelsea were sold in the +fashionable toy-shops, its reverently chanted creeds became the patter +of the boudoirs. The old Grosvenor Gallery, that stronghold of the +few, was verily invaded. Never was such a fusion of delightful folk as +at its Private Views. There was Robert Browning, the philosopher, +doffing his hat with a courtly sweep to more than one Duchess. There, +too, was Theo Marzials, poet and eccentric, and Charles Colnaghi, the +hero of a hundred tea-fights, and young Brookfield, the comedian, and +many another good fellow. My Lord of Dudley, the virtuoso, came there, +leaning for support upon the arm of his fair young wife. Disraeli, +with his lustreless eyes and face like some seamed Hebraic parchment, +came also, and whispered behind his hand to the faithful Corry. And +Walter Sickert spread the latest mot of `the Master,' who, with +monocle, cane and tilted hat, flashed through the gay mob anon. + +Autrement, there was Coombe Wood, in whose shade the Lady Archibald +Campbell suffered more than one of Shakespeare's plays to be enacted. +Hither, from the garish, indelicate theatre that held her languishing, +Thalia was bidden, if haply, under the open sky, she might resume her +old charm. All Fashion came to marvel and so did all the Aesthetes, in +the heart of one of whose leaders, Godwin, that superb architect, the +idea was first conceived. Real Pastoral Plays! Lest the invited guests +should get any noxious scent of the footlights across the grass, only +amateurs were accorded parts. They roved through a real wood, these +jerkined amateurs, with the poet's music upon their lips. Never under +such dark and griddled elms had the outlaws feasted upon their +venison. Never had any Rosalind traced with such shy wonder the +writing of her lover upon the bark, nor any Orlando won such laughter +for his not really sportive dalliance. Fairer than the mummers, it may +be, were the ladies who sat and watched them from the lawn. All of +them wore jerseys and tied-back skirts. Zulu hats shaded their eyes +from the sun. Bangles shimmered upon their wrists. And the gentlemen +wore light frock-coats and light top-hats with black bands. And the +aesthetes were in velveteen, carrying lilies. + +Not that Art and Fashion shunned the theatre. They began in 1880 to +affect it as never before. The one invaded Irving's premie`res at the +Lyceum. The other sang paeans in praise of the Bancrofts. The French +plays, too, were the feigned delight of all the modish world. Not to +have seen Chaumont in Totot chez Tata was held a solecism. The homely +mesdames and messieurs from the Parisian boards were `lionised' (how +strangely that phrase rings to modern ears!) in ducal drawing-rooms. +In fact, all the old prejudice of rank was being swept away. Even more +significant than the reception of players was a certain effort, made +at this time, to raise the average of aristocratic loveliness--an +effort that, but a few years before, would have been surely scouted as +quite undignified and outrageous. What the term `Professional Beauty' +signified, how any lady gained a right to it, we do not and may never +know. It is certain, however, that there were many ladies of tone, +upon whom it was bestowed. They received special attention from the +Prince of Wales, and hostesses would move heaven and earth to have +them in their rooms. Their photographs were on sale in the window of +every shop. Crowds assembled every morning to see them start from +Rotten Row. Pree"minent among Professional Beauties were Lady Lonsdale +(afterwards Lady de Grey), Mrs. Wheeler, who always `appeared in +black,' and Mrs. Corowallis West, who was Amy Robsart in the tableaux +at Cromwell House, when Mrs. Langtry, cette Cle'opatre de son sie`cle +appeared also, stepping across an artificial brook, in the pink kirtle +of Effie Deans. We may doubt whether the movement, represented by +these ladies, was quite in accord with the dignity and elegance that +always should mark the best society. Any effort to make Beauty +compulsory robs Beauty of its chief charm. But, at the same time, I do +believe that this movement, so far as it was informed by a real wish +to raise a practical standard of feminine charm for all classes, does +not deserve the strictures that have been passed upon it by posterity. +One of its immediate sequels was the incursion of American ladies into +London. Then it was that these pretty creatures, `clad in Worth's most +elegant confections,' drawled their way through our greater portals. +Fanned, as they were, by the feathers of the Prince of Wales, they had +a great success, and they were so strange that their voices and their +dresses were mimicked partout. The English beauties were rather angry, +especially with the Prince, whom alone they blamed for the vogue of +their rivals. History credits His Royal Highness with many notable +achievements. Not the least of these is that he discovered the +inhabitants of America. + +It will be seen that in this renaissance the keenest students of the +exquisite were women. Nevertheless, men were not idle, neither. Since +the day of Mr. Brummell and King George, the noble art of self- +adornment had fallen partially desuete. Great fops like Bulwer and le +jeune Cupidon had come upon the town, but never had they formed a +school. Dress, therefore, had become simpler, wardrobes smaller, +fashions apt to linger. In 1880 arose the sect that was soon to win +for itself the title of `The Mashers.' What this title exactly +signified I suppose no two etymologists will ever agree. But we can +learn clearly enough, from the fashion-plates of the day, what the +Mashers were in outward semblance; from the lampoons, their mode of +life. Unlike the dandies of the Georgian era, they pretended to no +classic taste and, wholly contemptuous of the Aesthetes, recognised no +art save the art of dress. Much might be written about the Mashers. +The restaurant--destined to be, in after years, so salient a delight +of London--was not known to them, but they were often admirable upon +the steps of clubs. The Lyceum held them never, but nightly they +gathered at the Gaiety Theatre. Nightly the stalls were agog with +small, sleek heads surmounting collars of interminable height. +Nightly, in the foyer, were lisped the praises of Kate Vaughan, her +graceful dancing, or of Nellie Farren, her matchless fooling. Never a +night passed but the dreary stage-door was cinct with a circlet of +fools bearing bright bouquets, of flaxen-headed fools who had feet +like black needles, and graceful fools incumbent upon canes. A strange +cult! I once knew a lady whose father was actually present at the +first night of `The Forty Thieves,' and fell enamoured of one of the +coryphe'es. By such links is one age joined to another. + +There is always something rather absurd about the past. For us, who +have fared on, the silhouette of Error is sharp upon the past horizon. +As we look back upon any period, its fashions seem grotesque, its +ideals shallow, for we know how soon those ideals and those fashions +were to perish, and how rightly; nor can we feel a little of the +fervour they did inspire. It is easy to laugh at these Mashers, with +their fantastic raiment and languid lives, or at the strife of the +Professional Beauties. It is easy to laugh at all that ensued when +first the mummers and the stainers of canvas strayed into Mayfair. Yet +shall I laugh? For me the most romantic moment of a pantomime is +always when the winged and wired fairies begin to fade away, and, as +they fade, clown and pantaloon tumble on joppling and grimacing, seen +very faintly in that indecisive twilight. The social condition of 1880 +fascinates me in the same way. Its contrasts fascinate me. + +Perhaps, in my study of the period, I may have fallen so deeply +beneath its spell that I have tended, now and again, to overrate its +real import. I lay no claim to the true historical spirit. I fancy it +was a chalk drawing of a girl in a mob-cap, signed `Frank Miles, +1880,' that first impelled me to research. To give an accurate and +exhaustive account of that period would need a far less brilliant pen +than mine. But I hope that, by dealing, even so briefly as I have +dealt, with its more strictly sentimental aspects, I may have +lightened the task of the scientific historian. And I look to +Professor Gardiner and to the Bishop of Oxford. + +`Cromwell House.' The residence of Lady Freake, a famous hostess of +the day and founder of a brilliant salon, `where even Royalty was sure +of a welcome. The writer of a recent monograph declares that, `many a +modern hostess would do well to emulate Lady Freake, not only in her +taste for the Beautiful in Art but also for the Intellectual in +Conversation.' + +`Fancy Fair.' For a full account of this function, see pp. 102-124 of +the `Annals of the Albert Hall.' + +`Jersey Lily.' A fanciful title bestowed, at this time, upon the +beautiful Mrs. Langtry, who was a native of Jersey Island. + +`Manola Valse.' Supposed to have been introduced by Albert Edward, +Prince of Wales, who, having heard it in Vienna, was pleased, for a +while, by its novelty, but soon reverted to the more sprightly deux- +temps. + +`Private Views.' This passage, which I found in a contemporary +chronicle, is so quaint and so instinct with the spirit of its time +that I am fain to quote it: + +`There were quaint, beautiful, extraordinary costumes walking about-- +ultra-aesthetics, artistic-aesthetics, aesthetics that made up their +minds to be daring, and suddenly gave way in some important point--put +a frivolous bonnet on the top of a grave and flowing garment that +Albert Durer might have designed for a mantle. There were fashionable +costumes that Mrs. Mason or Madame Eliot might have turned out that +morning. The motley crowd mingled, forming into groups, sometimes +dazzling you by the array of colours that you never thought to see in +full daylight.... Canary-coloured garments flitted cheerily by +garments of the saddest green. A hat in an agony of pushes and angles +was seen in company with a bonnet that was a gay garland of flowers. A +vast cape that might have enshrouded the form of a Mater Dolorosa hung +by the side of a jauntily-striped Langtry-hood.' + +The `Master.' By this title his disciples used to address James +Whistler, the author-artist. Without echoing the obloquy that was +lavished at first nor the praise that was lavished later upon his +pictures, we must admit that he was, as least, a great master of +English prose and a controversialist of no mean power. + +`Masher.' One authority derives the title, rather ingeniously, from +`Ma Che`re,' the mode of address used by the gilded youth to the +barmaids of the period--whence the corruption, `Masher.' Another +traces it to the chorus of a song, which, at that time, had a great +vogue in the music-halls: `I'm the slashing, dashing, mashing +Montmorency of the day.' This, in my opinion, is the safer suggestion, +and may be adopted. + +London, 1894. + + +King George The Fourth + +They say that when King George was dying, a special form of prayer for +his recovery, composed by one of the Archbishops, was read aloud to +him and that His Majesty, after saying Amen `thrice, with great +fervour,' begged that his thanks might be conveyed to its author. To +the student of royalty in modern times there is something rather +suggestive in this incident. I like to think of the drug-scented room +at Windsor and of the King, livid and immobile among his pillows, +waiting, in superstitious awe, for the near moment when he must stand, +a spirit, in the presence of a perpetual King. I like to think of him +following the futile prayer with eyes and lips, and then, custom +resurgent in him and a touch of pride that, so long as the blood moved +ever so little in his veins, he was still a king, expressing a desire +that the dutiful feeling and admirable taste of the Prelate should +receive a suitable acknowledgment. It would have been impossible for a +real monarch like George, even after the gout had turned his thoughts +heavenward, really to abase himself before his Maker. But he could, so +to say, treat with Him, as he might have treated with a fellow- +sovereign, in a formal way, long after diplomacy was quite useless. +How strange it must be to be a king! How delicate and difficult a task +it is to judge him! So far as I know, no attempt has been made to +judge King George the Fourth fairly. The hundred and one eulogies and +lampoons, irresponsibly published during and immediately after his +reign, are not worth a wooden hoop in Hades. Mr. Percy Fitzgerald has +published a history of George's reign, in which he has so artistically +subordinated his own personality to his subject, that I can scarcely +find, from beginning to end of the two bulky volumes, a single opinion +expressed, a single idea, a single deduction from the admirably- +ordered facts. All that most of us know of George is from Thackeray's +brilliant denunciation. Now, I yield to few in my admiration of +Thackeray's powers. He had a charming style. We never find him +searching for the mot juste as for a needle in a bottle of hay. Could +he have looked through a certain window by the river at Croisset or in +the quadrangle at Brasenose, how he would have laughed! He blew on his +pipe, and words came tripping round him, like children, like pretty +little children who are perfectly drilled for the dance, or came, did +he will it, treading in their precedence, like kings, gloomily. And I +think it is to the credit of the reading mob that, by reason of his +beautiful style, all that he said was taken for the truth, without +questioning. But truth after all is eternal, and style transient, and +now that Thackeray's style is becoming, if I may say so, a trifle +1860, it may not be amiss that we should inquire whether his estimate +of George is in substance and fact worth anything at all. It seems to +me that, as in his novels, so in his history of the four Georges, +Thackeray made no attempt at psychology. He dealt simply with types. +One George he insisted upon regarding as a buffoon, another as a +yokel. The Fourth George he chose to hold up for reprobation as a +drunken, vapid cad. Every action, every phase of his life that went to +disprove this view, he either suppressed or distorted utterly. +`History,' he would seem to have chuckled, `has nothing to do with the +First Gentleman. But I will give him a niche in Natural History. He +shall be King of the Beasts.' He made no allowance for the +extraordinary conditions under which all monarchs live, none for the +unfortunate circumstances by which George, especially, was from the +first hampered. He judged him as he judged Barnes Newcome and all the +scoundrels lie created. Moreover, he judged him by the moral standard +of the Victorian Age. In fact, he applied to his subject the wrong +method, in the wrong manner, and at the wrong time. And yet every one +has taken him at his word. I feel that my essay may be scouted as a +paradox; but I hope that many may recognise that I am not, out of mere +boredom, endeavouring to stop my ears against popular platitude, but +rather, in a spirit of real earnestness, to point out to the mob how +it has been cruel to George. I do not despair of success. I think I +shall make converts. The mob is really very fickle and sometimes +cheers the truth. + +None, at all events, will deny that England stands to-day otherwise +than she stood a hundred and thirty-two years ago, when George was +born. To-day we are living a decadent life. All the while that we are +prating of progress, we are really so deteriorate! There is nothing +but feebleness in us. Our youths, who spend their days in trying to +build up their constitutions by sport or athletics and their evenings +in undermining them with poisonous and dyed drinks; our daughters, who +are ever searching for some new quack remedy for new imaginary megrim, +what strength is there in them? We have our societies for the +prevention of this and the promotion of that and the propagation of +the other, because there are no individuals among us. Our sexes are +already nearly assimilate. Women are becoming nearly as rare as +ladies, and it is only at the music-halls that we are privileged to +see strong men. We are born into a poor, weak age. We are not strong +enough to be wicked, and the Nonconformist Conscience makes cowards of +us all. + +But this was not so in the days when George was walking by his tutor's +side in the gardens of Kew or of Windsor. London must have been a +splendid place in those days--full of life and colour and wrong and +revelry. There was no absurd press nor vestry to protect the poor at +the expense of the rich and see that everything should be neatly +adjusted. Every man had to shift for himself and, consequently, men +were, as Mr. Clement Scott would say, manly, and women, as Mr. Clement +Scott would say, womanly. In those days, a young man of wealth and +family found open to him a vista of such licence as had been unknown +to any since the barbatuli of the Roman Empire. To spend the early +morning with his valet, gradually assuming the rich apparel that was +not then tabooed by a hard sumptuary standard; to saunter round to +White's for ale and tittle-tattle and the making of wagers; to attend +a `drunken de'jeuner' in honour of `la tre`s belle Rosaline' or the +Strappini; to drive some fellow-fool far out into the country in his +pretty curricle, `followed by two well-dressed and well-mounted +grooms, of singular elegance certainly,' and stop at every tavern on +the road to curse the host for not keeping better ale and a wench of +more charm; to reach St. James's in time for a random toilet and so +off to dinner. Which of our dandies could survive a day of pleasure +such as this? Which would be ready, dinner done, to scamper off again +to Ranelagh and dance and skip and sup in the rotunda there? Yet the +youth of that period would not dream of going to bed or ever he had +looked in at Crockford's--tanta lubido rerum--for a few hours' faro. + +This was the kind of life that young George found opened to him, when, +at length, in his nineteenth year, they gave him an establishment in +Buckingham House. How his young eyes must have sparkled, and with what +glad gasps must he have taken the air of freedom into his lungs! +Rumour had long been busy with the damned surveillance under which his +childhood had been passed. A paper of the time says significantly that +`the Prince of Wales, with a spirit which does him honour, has three +times requested a change in that system.' King George had long +postponed permission for his son to appear at any balls, and the year +before had only given it, lest he should offend the Spanish Minister, +who begged it as a personal favour. I know few pictures more pathetic +than that of George, then an overgrown boy of fourteen, tearing the +childish frill from around his neck and crying to one of the Royal +servants, `See how they treat me! `Childhood has always seemed to me +the tragic period of life. To be subject to the most odious espionage +at the one age when you never dream of doing wrong, to be deceived by +your parents, thwarted of your smallest wish, oppressed by the terrors +of manhood and of the world to come, and to believe, as you are told, +that childhood is the only happiness known; all this is quite +terrible. And all Royal children, of whom I have read, particularly +George, seem to have passed through greater trials in childhood than +do the children of any other class. Mr. Fitzgerald, hazarding for once +an opinion, thinks that `the stupid, odious, German, sergeant-system +of discipline that had been so rigorously applied was, in fact, +responsible for the blemishes of the young Prince's character.' Even +Thackeray, in his essay upon George III., asks what wonder that the +son, finding himself free at last, should have plunged, without +looking, into the vortex of dissipation. In Torrens' Life of Lord +Melbourne we learn that Lord Essex, riding one day with the King, met +the young Prince wearing a wig, and that the culprit, being sternly +reprimanded by his father, replied that he had `been ordered by his +doctor to wear a wig, for he was subject to cold.' Whereupon the King, +to vent the aversion he already felt for his son, or, it may have +been, glorying in the satisfactory result of his discipline, turned to +Lord Essex and remarked, `A lie is ever ready when it is wanted.' +George never lost this early-ingrained habit of lies. It is to +George's childish fear of his guardians that we must trace that +extraordinary power of bamboozling his courtiers, his ministry, and +his mistresses that distinguished him through his long life. It is +characteristic of the man that he should himself have bitterly +deplored his own untruthfulness. When, in after years, he was +consulting Lady Spencer upon the choice of a governess for his child, +he made this remarkable speech, `Above all, she must be taught the +truth. You know that I don't speak the truth and my brothers don't, +and I find it a great defect, from which I would have my daughter +free. We have been brought up badly, the Queen having taught us to +equivocate.' You may laugh at the picture of the little chubby, curly- +headed fellows learning to equivocate at their mother's knee, but pray +remember that the wisest master of ethics himself, in his theory of +hexeis apodeiktikai, similarly raised virtues, such as telling the +truth, to the level of regular accomplishments, and, before you judge +poor George harshly in his entanglements of lying, think of the +cruelly unwise education he had undergone. + +However much we may deplore this exaggerated tyranny, by reason of its +evil effect upon his moral nature, we cannot but feel glad that it +existed, to afford a piquant contrast to the life awaiting him. Had he +passed through the callow dissipations of Eton and Oxford, like other +young men of his age, he would assuredly have lacked much of that +splendid, pent vigour with which he rushed headlong into London life. +He was so young and so handsome and so strong, that can we wonder if +all the women fell at his feet? `The graces of his person,' says one +whom he honoured by an intrigue, `the irresistible sweetness of his +smile, the tenderness of his melodious, yet manly voice, will be +remembered by me till every vision of this changing scene are +forgotten. The polished and fascinating ingenuousness of his manners +contributed not a little to enliven our promenade. He sang with +exquisite taste, and the tones of his voice, breaking on the silence +of the night, have often appeared to my entranced senses like more +than mortal melody.' But besides his graces of person, he had a most +delightful wit, he was a scholar who could bandy quotations with Fox +or Sheridan, and, like the young men of to-day, he knew all about Art. +He spoke French, Italian, and German perfectly. Crossdill had taught +him the violoncello. At first, as was right for one of his age, he +cared more for the pleasures of the table and of the ring, for cards +and love. He was wont to go down to Ranelagh surrounded by a retinue +of bruisers--rapscallions, such as used to follow Clodius through the +streets of Rome--and he loved to join in the scuffles like any +commoner. Pugilism he learnt from Angelo, and he was considered by +some to be a fine performer. On one occasion, too, at an exposition +d'escrime, when he handled the foils against the mai^tre, he `was +highly complimented upon his graceful postures.' In fact, despite all +his accomplishments, he seems to have been a thoroughly manly young +fellow. He was just the kind of figure-head Society had long been in +need of. A certain lack of tone had crept into the amusements of the +haut monde, due, doubtless, to the lack of an acknowledged leader. The +King was not yet mad, but he was always bucolic, and socially out of +the question. So at the coming of his son Society broke into a gallop. +Balls and masquerades were given in his honour night after night. Good +Samaritans must have approved when they found that at these +entertainments great ladies and courtesans brushed beautiful shoulders +in utmost familiarity, but those who delighted in the high charm of +society probably shook their heads. We need not, however, find it a +flaw in George's social bearing that he did not check this kind of +freedom. At the first, as a young man full of life, of course he took +everything as it came, joyfully. No one knew better than he did, in +later life, that there is a time for laughing with great ladies and a +time for laughing with courtesans. But as yet it was not possible for +him to exert influence. How great that influence became I will suggest +hereafter. + +I like to think of him as he was at this period, charging about, in +pursuit of pleasure, like a young bull. The splendid taste for +building had not yet come to him. His father would not hear of him +patronising the Turf. But already he was implected with a passion for +dress and seems to have erred somewhat on the side of dressing up, as +is the way of young men. It is fearful to think of him, as Cyrus +Redding saw him, `arrayed in deep-brown velvet, silver embroidered, +with cut-steel buttons, and a gold net thrown over all.' Before that +`gold net thrown over all,' all the mistakes of his afterlife seem to +me to grow almost insignificant. Time, however, toned his too florid +sense of costume, and we should at any rate be thankful that his +imagination never deserted him. All the delightful munditiae that we +find in the contemporary `fashion-plates for gentlemen' can be traced +to George himself. His were the much-approved `quadruple stock of +great dimension,' the `cocked grey-beaver,' `the pantaloons of mauve +silk negligently crinkled' and any number of other little pomps and +foibles of the kind. As he grew older and was obliged to abandon many +of his more vigorous pastimes, he grew more and more enamoured of the +pleasures of the wardrobe. He would spend hours, it is said, in +designing coats for his friends, liveries for his servants, and even +uniforms. Nor did he ever make the mistake of giving away outmoded +clothes to his valets, but kept them to form what must have been the +finest collection of clothes that has been seen in modern times. With +a sentimentality that is characteristic of him, he would often, as he +sat, crippled by gout, in his room at Windsor, direct his servant to +bring him this or that coat, which he had worn ten or twenty or thirty +years before, and, when it was brought to him, spend much time in +laughing or sobbing over the memories that lay in its folds. It is +pleasant to know that George, during his long and various life, never +forgot a coat, however long ago worn, however seldom. + +But in the early days of which I speak he had not yet touched that +self-conscious note which, in manner and mode of life, as well as in +costume, he was to touch later. He was too violently enamoured of all +around him, to think very deeply of himself. But he had already +realised the tragedy of the voluptuary, which is, after a little time, +not that he must go on living, but that he cannot live in two places +at once. We have, at this end of the century, tempered this tragedy by +the perfection of railways, and it is possible for our good Prince, +whom Heaven bless, to waken to the sound of the Braemar bagpipes, +while the music of Mdlle. Guilbert's latest song, cooed over the +footlights of the Concerts Parisiens, still rings in his ears. But in +the time of our Prince's illustrious great-uncle there were not +railways; and we find George perpetually driving, for wagers, to +Brighton and back (he had already acquired that taste for Brighton +which was one of his most loveable qualities) in incredibly short +periods of time. The rustics who lived along the road were well +accustomed to the sight of a high, tremulous phaeton flashing past +them, and the crimson face of the young Prince bending over the +horses. There is something absurd in representing George as, even +before he came of age, a hardened and cynical profligate, an +Elagabalus in trousers. His blood flowed fast enough through his +veins. All his escapades were those of a healthful young man of the +time. Need we blame him if he sought, every day, to live faster and +more fully? + +In a brief essay like this, I cannot attempt to write, as I hope one +day to do, in any detail a history of George's career, during the time +when he was successively Prince of Wales and Regent and King. Merely +is it my wish at present to examine some of the principal accusations +that have been brought against him, and to point out in what ways he +has been harshly and hastily judged. Perhaps the greatest indignation +against him was, and is to this day, felt by reason of his treatment +of his two wives, Mrs. Fitzherbert and Queen Caroline. There are some +scandals that never grow old, and I think the story of George's +married life is one of them. It was a real scandal. I can feel it. It +has vitality. Often have I wondered whether the blood with which the +young Prince's shirt was saturate when Mrs. Fitzherbert was first +induced to visit him at Carlton House, was merely red paint, or if, in +a frenzy of love, he had truly gashed himself with a razor. Certain it +is that his passion for the virtuous and obdurate lady was a very real +one. Lord Holland describes how the Prince used to visit Mrs. Fox, and +there indulge in `the most extravagant expressions and actions-- +rolling on the floor, striking his forehead, tearing his hair, falling +into hysterics, and swearing that he would abandon the country, forego +the crown, &c.' He was indeed still a child, for Royalties, not being +ever brought into contact with the realities of life, remain young far +longer than other people. Cursed with a truly royal lack of self- +control, he was unable to bear the idea of being thwarted in any wish. +Every day he sent off couriers to Holland, whither Mrs. Fitzherbert +had retreated, imploring her to return to him, offering her formal +marriage. At length, as we know, she yielded to his importunity and +returned. It is difficult indeed to realise exactly what was Mrs. +Fitzherbert's feeling in the matter. The marriage must be, as she +knew, illegal, and would lead, as Charles James Fox pointed out in his +powerful letter to the Prince, to endless and intricate difficulties. +For the present she could only live with him as his mistress. If, when +he reached the legal age of twenty-five, he were to apply to +Parliament for permission to marry her, how could permission be given, +when she had been living with him irregularly? Doubtless, she was +flattered by the attentions of the Heir to the Throne, but, +had she really returned his passion, she would surely have preferred +`any other species of connection with His Royal Highness to one +leading to so much misery and mischief.' Really to understand her +marriage, one must look at the portraits of her that are extant. That +beautiful and silly face explains much. One can well fancy such a lady +being pleased to live after the performance of a mock-ceremony with a +prince for whom she felt no passion. Her view of the matter can only +have been social, for, in the eyes of the Church, she could only live +with the Prince as his mistress. Society, however, once satisfied that +a ceremony of some kind had been enacted, never regarded her as +anything but his wife. The day after Fox, inspired by the Prince, had +formally denied that any ceremony had taken place, `the knocker of her +door,' to quote her own complacent phrase, `was never still.' The +Duchesses of Portland, Devonshire and Cumber-land were among her +visitors. + +How much pop-limbo has been talked about the Prince's denial of the +marriage! I grant that it was highly improper to marry Mrs. +Fitzherbert at all. But George was always weak and wayward, and he +did, in his great passion, marry her. That he should afterwards deny +it officially seems to me to have been utterly inevitable. His denial +did her not the faintest damage, as I have pointed out. It was, so to +speak, an official quibble, rendered necessary by the circumstances of +the case. Not to have denied the marriage in the House of Commons +would have meant ruin to both of them. As months passed, more serious +difficulties awaited the unhappily wedded pair. What boots it to +repeat the story of the Prince's great debts and desperation? It was +clear that there was but one way of getting his head above water, and +that was to yield to his father's wishes and contract a real marriage +with a foreign princess. Fate was dogging his footsteps relentlessly. +Placed as he was, George could not but offer to marry as his father +willed. It is well, also, to remember that George was not ruthlessly +and suddenly turning his shoulder upon Mrs. Fitzherbert. For some time +before the British plenipotentiary went to fetch him a bride from over +the waters, his name had been associated with that of the beautiful +and unscrupulous Countess of Jersey. + +Poor George! Half-married to a woman whom he no longer worshipped, +compelled to marry a woman whom he was to hate at first sight! Surely +we should not judge a prince harshly. `Princess Caroline very gauche +at cards,' `Princess Caroline very missish at supper,' are among the +entries made in his diary by Lord Malmesbury, while he was at the +little German Court. I can conceive no scene more tragic than that of +her presentation to the Prince, as related by the same nobleman. `I, +according to the established etiquette,' so he writes, `introduced the +Princess Caroline to him. She, very properly, in consequence of my +saying it was the right mode of proceeding, attempted to kneel to him. +He raised her gracefully enough, and embraced her, said barely one +word, turned round, retired to a distant part of the apartment, and +calling to me, said: `Harris, I am not well: pray get me a glass of +brandy.' At dinner that evening, in the presence of her betrothed, the +Princess was `flippant, rattling, affecting wit.' Poor George, I say +again! Deportment was his ruling passion, and his bride did not know +how to behave. Vulgarity--hard, implacable, German vulgarity--was in +everything she did to the very day of her death. The marriage was +solemnised on Wednesday, April 8th, 1795, and the royal bridegroom was +drunk. + +So soon as they were separated, George became implected with a morbid +hatred for his wife, which was hardly in accord with his light and +variant nature and shows how bitterly he had been mortified by his +marriage of necessity. It is sad that so much of his life should have +been wasted in futile strainings after divorce. Yet we can scarcely +blame him for seizing upon every scrap of scandal that was whispered +of his wife. Besides his not unnatural wish to be free, it was +derogatory to the dignity of a prince and a regent that his wife +should be living an eccentric life at Blackheath with a family of +singers named Sapio. Indeed, Caroline's conduct during this time was +as indiscreet as ever. Wherever she went she made ribald jokes about +her husband, `in such a voice that all, by-standing, might hear.' +`After dinner,' writes one of her servants, `Her Royal Highness made a +wax figure as usual, and gave it an amiable pair of large horns; then +took three pins out of her garment and stuck them through and through, +and put the figure to roast and melt at the fire. What a silly piece +of spite! Yet it is impossible not to laugh when one sees it done.' +Imagine the feelings of the First Gentleman in Europe when the +unseemly story of these pranks was whispered to him! + +For my own part, I fancy Caroline was innocent of any infidelity to +her unhappy husband. But that is neither here nor there. Her behaviour +was certainly not above suspicion. It fully justified George in trying +to establish a case for her divorce. When, at length, she went abroad, +her vagaries were such that the whole of her English suite left her, +and we hear of her travelling about the Holy Land attended by another +family, named Bergami. When her husband succeeded to the throne, and +her name was struck out of the liturgy, she despatched expostulations +in absurd English to Lord Liverpool. Receiving no answer, she decided +to return and claim her right to be crowned Queen of England. Whatever +the unhappy lady did, she always was ridiculous. One cannot but smile +as one reads of her posting along the French roads in a yellow +travelling-chariot drawn by cart-horses, with a retinue that included +an alderman, a reclaimed lady-in-waiting, an Italian count, the eldest +son of the alderman, and `a fine little female child, about three +years old, whom Her Majesty, in conformity with her benevolent +practices on former occasions, had adopted.' The breakdown of her +impeachment, and her acceptance of an income formed a fitting anti- +climax to the terrible absurdities of her position. She died from the +effects of a chill caught when she was trying vainly to force a way to +her husband's coronation. Unhappy woman! Our sympathy for her is not +misgiven. Fate wrote her a most tremendous tragedy, and she played it +in tights. Let us pity her, but not forget to pity her husband, the +King, also. + +It is another common accusation against George that he was an +undutiful and unfeeling son. If this was so, it is certain that not +all the blame is to be laid upon him alone. There is more than one +anecdote which shows that King George disliked his eldest son, and +took no trouble to conceal his dislike, long before the boy had been +freed from his tutors. It was the coldness of his father and the petty +restrictions he loved to enforce that first drove George to seek the +companionship of such men as Egalite' and the Duke of Cumberland, both +of whom were quick to inflame his impressionable mind to angry +resentment. Yet, when Margaret Nicholson attempted the life of the +King, the Prince immediately posted off from Brighton that he might +wait upon his father at Windsor--a graceful act of piety that was +rewarded by his father's refusal to see him. Hated by the Queen, who +at this time did all she could to keep her husband and his son apart, +surrounded by intriguers, who did all they could to set him against +his father, George seems to have behaved with great discretion. In the +years that follow, I can conceive no position more difficult than that +in which he found himself every time his father relapsed into lunacy. +That he should have by every means opposed those who through jealousy +stood between him and the regency was only natural. It cannot be said +that at any time did he show anxiety to rule, so long as there was any +immediate chance of the King's recovery. On the contrary, all +impartial seers of that chaotic Court agreed that the Prince bore +himself throughout the intrigues, wherein he himself was bound to be, +in a notably filial way. + +There are many things that I regret in the career of George IV., and +what I most of all regret is the part that he played in the politics +of the period. Englishmen to-day have at length decided that Royalty +shall not set foot in the political arena. I do not despair that some +day we shall place politics upon a sound commercial basis, as they +have already done in America and France, or leave them entirely in the +hands of the police, as they do in Russia. It is horrible to think +that, under our existing re'gime, all the men of noblest blood and +highest intellect should waste their time in the sordid atmosphere of +the House of Commons, listening for hours to nonentities talking +nonsense, or searching enormous volumes to prove that somebody said +something some years ago that does not quite tally with something he +said the other day, or standing tremulous before the whips in the +lobbies and the scorpions in the constituencies. In the political +machine are crushed and lost all our best men. That Mr. Gladstone did +not choose to be a cardinal is a blow under which the Roman Catholic +Church still staggers. In Mr. Chamberlain Scotland Yard missed its +smartest detective. What a fine voluptuary might Lord Rosebery have +been! It is a platitude that the country is ruled best by the +permanent officials, and I look forward to the time when Mr. Keir +Hardie shall hang his cap in the hall of No. 10 Downing Street, and a +Conservative working man shall lead Her Majesty's Opposition. In the +lifetime of George, politics were not a whit finer than they are to- +day. I feel a genuine indignation that he should have wasted so much +of tissue in mean intrigues about ministries and bills. That he should +have been fascinated by that splendid fellow, Fox, is quite right. +That he should have thrown himself with all his heart into the storm +of the Westminster election is most natural. But it is awful +inverideed to find him, long after he had reached man's estate, +indulging in back-stair intrigues with Whigs and Tories. It is, of +course, absurd to charge him with deserting his first friends, the +Whigs. His love and fidelity were given, not to the Whigs, but to the +men who led them. Even after the death of Fox, he did, in misplaced +piety, do all he could for Fox's party. What wonder that, when he +found he was ignored by the Ministry that owed its existence to him, +he turned his back upon that sombre couple, the `Lords G. and G.,' +whom he had always hated, and went over to the Tories? Among the +Tories he hoped to find men who would faithfully perform their duties +and leave him leisure to live his own beautiful life. I regret +immensely that his part in politics did not cease here. The state of +the country and of his own finances, and also, I fear, a certain love +that he had imbibed for political manipulation, prevented him from +standing aside. How useless was all the finesse he displayed in the +long-drawn question of Catholic Emancipation! How lamentable his +terror of Lord Wellesley's rude dragooning! And is there not something +pitiable in the thought of the Regent at a time of ministerial +complications lying prone on his bed with a sprained ankle, and +taking, as was whispered, in one day as many as seven hundred drops of +laudanum? Some said he took these doses to deaden the pain. But +others, and among them his brother Cumberland, declared that the +sprain was all a sham. I hope it was. The thought of a voluptuary in +pain is very terrible. In any case, I cannot but feel angry, for +George's own sake and that of his kingdom, that he found it impossible +to keep further aloof from the wearisome troubles of political life. +His wretched indecision of character made him an easy prey to +unscrupulous ministers, while his extraordinary diplomatic powers and +almost extravagant tact made them, in their turn, an easy prey to him. +In these two processes much of his genius was spent untimely. I must +confess that he did not quite realise where his duties ended. He +wished always to do too much. If you read his repeated appeals to his +father that he might be permitted to serve actively in the British +army against the French, you will acknowledge that it was through no +fault of his own that he did not fight. It touches me to think that in +his declining years he actually thought that he had led one of the +charges at Waterloo. He would often describe the whole scene as it +appeared to him at that supreme moment, and refer to the Duke of +Wellington, saying, `Was it not so, Duke?' `I have often heard you say +so, your Majesty,' the old soldier would reply, grimly. I am not sure +that the old soldier was at Waterloo himself. In a room full of people +he once referred to the battle as having been won upon the playing- +fields of Eton. This was certainly a most unfortunate slip, seeing +that all historians are agreed that it was fought on a certain field +situate a few miles from Brussels. + +In one of his letters to the King, craving for a military appointment, +George urges that, whilst his next brother, the Duke of York, +commanded the army, and the younger branches of the family were either +generals or lieutenant-generals, he, who was Prince of Wales, remained +colonel of dragoons. And herein, could he have known it, lay the right +limitation of his life. As Royalty was and is constituted, it is for +the younger sons to take an active part in the services, whilst the +eldest son is left as the ruler of Society. Thousands and thousands of +guineas were given by the nation that the Prince of Wales, the Regent, +the King, might be, in the best sense of the word, ornamental. It is +not for us, at this moment, to consider whether Royalty, as a wholly +Pagan institution, is not out of place in a community of Christians. +It is enough that we should inquire whether the god, whom our grand- +fathers set up and worshipped and crowned with offerings, gave grace +to his worshippers. + +That George was a moral man, in our modern sense, I do not for one +moment pretend. It were idle to deny that he was profligate. When he +died there were found in one of his cabinets more than a hundred locks +of women's hair. Some of these were still plastered with powder and +pomatum, some were mere little golden curls, such as grow low down +upon a girl's neck, others were streaked with grey. The whole of this +collection subsequently passed into the hands of Adam, the famous +Scotch henchman of the Regent. In his family, now resident in Glasgow, +it is treasured as an heirloom. I myself have been privileged to look +at all these locks of hair, and I have seen a clairvoyante take them +one by one, and, pinching them between her lithe fingers, tell of the +love that each symbolised. I have heard her tell of long rides by +night, of a boudoir hung with grass-green satin, and of a tryst at +Windsor; of one, the wife of a hussar at York, whose little lap-dog +used to bark angrily whenever the Regent came near his mistress; of a +milkmaid who, in her great simpleness, thought her child would one day +be King of England; of an arch-duchess with blue eyes, and a silly +little flautist from Portugal; of women that were wantons and fought +for his favour, great ladies that he loved dearly, girls that gave +themselves to him humbly. If we lay all pleasures at the feet of our +Prince, we can scarcely hope he will remain virtuous. Indeed, we do +not wish our Prince to be an examplar of godliness, but a perfect type +of happiness. It may be foolish of us to insist upon apolaustic +happiness, but that is the kind of happiness that we can ourselves, +most of us, best understand, and so we offer it to our ideal. In +Royalty we find our Bacchus, our Venus. + +Certainly George was, in the practical sense of the word, a fine king. +His wonderful physique, his wealth, his brilliant talents, he gave +them all without stint to Society. From the time when, at Madame +Cornelys', he gallivanted with rips and demireps, to the time when he +sat, a stout and solitary old king, fishing in the artificial pond at +Windsor, his life was beautifully ordered. He indulged to the full in +all the delights that England could offer him. That he should have, in +his old age, suddenly abandoned his career of vigorous enjoyment is, I +confess, rather surprising. The Royal voluptuary generally remains +young to the last. No one ever tires of pleasure. It is the pursuit of +pleasure, the trouble to grasp it, that makes us old. Only the +soldiers who enter Capua with wounded feet leave it demoralised. And +yet George, who never had to wait or fight for a pleasure, fell +enervate long before his death. I can but attribute this to the +constant persecution to which he was subjected by duns and ministers, +parents and wives. + +Not that I regret the manner in which he spent his last years. On the +contrary, I think it was exceedingly cosy. I like to think of the +King, at Windsor, lying a-bed all the morning in his darkened room, +with all the sporting papers scattered over his quilt and a little +decanter of the favourite cherry-brandy within easy reach. I like to +think of him sitting by his fire in the afternoon and hearing his +ministers ask for him at the door and piling another log upon the +fire, as he heard them sent away by his servant. It was not, I +acknowledge, a life to kindle popular enthusiasm. But most people knew +little of its mode. For all they knew, His Majesty might have been +making his soul or writing his memoirs. In reality, George was now +`too fat by far' to brook the observation of casual eyes. Especially +he hated to be seen by those whose memories might bear them back to +the time when he had yet a waist. Among his elaborate precautions of +privacy was a pair of avant-couriers, who always preceded his pony- +chaise in its daily progress through Windsor Great Park and had strict +commands to drive back any intruder. In The Veiled Majestic Man, Where +is the Graceful Despot of England? and other lampoons not extant, the +scribblers mocked his loneliness. At White's, one evening, four +gentlemen of high fashion vowed, over their wine, they would see the +invisible monarch. So they rode down next day to Windsor, and secreted +themselves in the branches of a holm-oak. Here they waited perdus, +beguiling the hours and the frost with their flasks. When dusk was +falling, they heard at last the chime of hoofs on the hard road, and +saw presently a splash of the Royal livery, as two grooms trotted by, +peering warily from side to side, and disappeared in the gloom. The +conspirators in the tree held their breath, till they caught the +distant sound of wheels. Nearer and louder came the sound, and soon +they saw a white, postillioned pony, a chaise and, yes, girth +immensurate among the cushions, a weary monarch, whose face, crimson +above the dark accumulation of his stock, was like some ominous +sunset.... He had passed them and they had seen him, monstrous and +moribund among the cushions. He had been borne past them like a +wounded Bacchanal. The King! The Regent!... They shuddered in the +frosty branches. The night was gathering and they climbed silently to +the ground, with an awful, indispellible image before their eyes. + +You see, these gentlemen were not philosophers. Remember, also, that +the strangeness of their escapade, the cramped attitude they had been +compelled to maintain in the branches of the holm-oak, the intense +cold and their frequent resort to the flask must have all conspired to +exaggerate their emotions and prevent them from looking at things in a +rational way. After all, George had lived his life. He had lived more +fully than any other man. And it was better really that his death +should be preceded by decline. For every one, obviously, the most +desirable kind of death is that which strikes men down, suddenly, in +their prime. Had they not been so dangerous, railways would never have +ousted the old coaches from popular favour. But, however keenly we may +court such a death for ourselves or for those who are near and dear to +us, we must always be offended whenever it befall one in whom our +interest is aesthetic merely. Had his father permitted George to fight +at Waterloo, and had some fatal bullet pierced the padding of that +splendid breast, I should have been really annoyed, and this essay +would never have been written. Sudden death mars the unity of an +admirable life. Natural decline, tapering to tranquillity, is its +proper end. As a man's life begins, faintly, and gives no token of +childhood's intensity and the expansion of youth and the perfection of +manhood, so it should also end, faintly. The King died a death that +was like the calm conclusion of a great, lurid poem. Quievit. + +Yes, his life was a poem, a poem in the praise of Pleasure. And it is +right that we should think of him always as the great voluptuary. Only +let us note that his nature never became, as do the natures of most +voluptuaries, corroded by a cruel indifference to the happiness of +others. When all the town was agog for the fe^te to be given by the +Regent in honour of the French King, Sheridan sent a forged card of +invitation to Romeo Coates, the half-witted dandy, who used at this +time to walk about in absurd ribbons and buckles, and was the butt of +all the streetsters. The poor fellow arrived at the entrance of +Carlton House, proud as a peacock, and he was greeted with a +tremendous cheer from the bystanding mob, but when he came to the +lackeys he was told that his card was a hoax and sent about his +business. The tears were rolling down his cheeks as he shambled back +into the street. The Regent heard later in the evening of this sorry +joke, and next day despatched a kindly-worded message, in which he +prayed that Mr. Coates would not refuse to come and `view the +decorations, nevertheless.' Though he does not appear to have treated +his inferiors with the extreme servility that is now in vogue, George +was beloved by the whole of his household, and many are the little +tales that are told to illustrate the kindliness and consideration he +showed to his valets and his jockeys and his stable-boys. That from +time to time he dropped certain of his favourites is no cause for +blaming him. Remember that a Great Personage, like a great genius, is +dangerous to his fellow-creatures. The favourites of Royalty live in +an intoxicant atmosphere. They become unaccountable for their +behaviour. Either they get beyond themselves, and, like Brummell, +forget that the King, their friend, is also their master, or they +outrun the constable and go bankrupt, or cheat at cards in order to +keep up their position, or do some other foolish thing that makes it +impossible for the King to favour them more. Old friends are generally +the refuge of unsociable persons. Remembering this also, gauge the +temptation that besets the very leader of Society to form fresh +friendships, when all the cleverest and most charming persons in the +land are standing ready, like supers at the wings, to come on and +please him! At Carlton House there was a constant succession of wits. +Minds were preserved for the Prince of Wales, as coverts are preserved +for him to-day. For him Sheridan would flash his best bon-mot, and +Theodore Hook play his most practical joke, his swiftest chansonette. +And Fox would talk, as only he could, of Liberty and of Patriotism, +and Byron would look more than ever like Isidore de Lara as he recited +his own bad verses, and Sir Walter Scott would `pour out with an +endless generosity his store of old-world learning, kindness, and +humour.' Of such men George was a splendid patron. He did not merely +sit in his chair, gaping princely at their wit and their wisdom, but +quoted with the scholars and argued with the statesmen and jested with +the wits. Doctor Burney, an impartial observer, says that he was +amazed by the knowledge of music that the Regent displayed in a half- +hour's discussion over the wine. Croker says that `the Prince and +Scott were the two most brilliant story-tellers, in their several +ways, he had ever happened to meet. Both exerted themselves, and it +was hard to say which shone the most.' Indeed His Royal Highness +appears to have been a fine conversationalist, with a wide range of +knowledge and great humour. We, who have come at length to look upon +stupidity as one of the most sacred prerogatives of Royalty, can +scarcely realise that, if George's birth had been never so humble, he +would have been known to us as a most admirable scholar and wit, or as +a connoisseur of the arts. It is pleasing to think of his love for the +Flemish school of painting, for Wilkie and Sir Thomas Lawrence. The +splendid portraits of foreign potentates that hang in the Banqueting +Room at Windsor bear witness to his sense of the canvas. In his later +years he exerted himself strenuously in raising the tone of the drama. +His love of the classics never left him. We know he was fond of +quoting those incomparable poets, Homer, at great length, and that he +was prominent in the `papyrus-craze.' Indeed, he inspired Society with +a love of something more than mere pleasure, a love of the `humaner +delights.' He was a giver of tone. At his coming, the bluff, +disgusting ways of the Tom and Jerry period gave way to those florid +graces that are still called Georgian. + +A pity that George's predecessor was not a man, like the Prince +Consort, of strong chastening influence! Then might the bright +flamboyance which he gave to Society have made his reign more +beautiful than any other--a real renaissance. But he found London a +wild city of taverns and cock-pits, and the grace which in the course +of years he gave to his subjects never really entered into them. The +cock-pits were gilded and the taverns painted with colour, but the +heart of the city was vulgar, even as before. The simulation of higher +things did indeed give the note of a very interesting period, but how +shallow that simulation was and how merely it was due to George's own +influence, we may see in the light of what happened after his death. +The good that he had done died with him. The refinement he had laid +upon vulgarity fell away, like enamel from withered cheeks. It was +only George himself who had made the sham endure. The Victorian era +came soon, and the angels rushed in and drove the nymphs away and hung +the land with reps. + +I have often wondered whether it was with a feeling that his influence +would be no more than life-long, that George allowed Carlton House, +that dear structure, the very work of his life and symbol of his +being, to be rased. I wish that Carlton House were still standing. I +wish we could still walk through those corridors, whose walls were +`crusted with ormolu,' and parquet-floors were `so glossy that, were +Narcissus to come down from heaven, he would, I maintain, need no +other mirror for his beaute'.' I wish that we could see the pier- +glasses and the girandoles and the twisted sofas, the fauns foisted +upon the ceiling and the rident goddesses along the wall. These things +would make George's memory dearer to us, help us to a fuller knowledge +of him. I am glad that the Pavilion still stands here in Brighton. Its +trite lawns and wanton cupolae have taught me much. As I write this +essay, I can see them from my window. Last night, in a crowd of +trippers and townspeople, I roamed the lawns of that dishonoured +palace, whilst a band played us tunes. Once I fancied I saw the shade +of a swaying figure and of a wine-red face. + +Brighton, 1894. + + +The Pervasion of Rouge + +Nay, but it is useless to protest. Artifice must queen it once more in +the town, and so, if there be any whose hearts chafe at her return, +let them not say, `We have come into evil times,' and be all for +resistance, reformation, or angry cavilling. For did the king's +sceptre send the sea retrograde, or the wand of the sorcerer avail to +turn the sun from its old course? And what man or what number of men +ever stayed that inexorable process by which the cities of this world +grow, are very strong, fail, and grow again? Indeed, indeed, there is +charm in every period, and only fools and flutterpates do not seek +reverently for what is charming in their own day. No martyrdom, +however fine, nor satire, however splendidly bitter, has changed by a +little tittle the known tendency of things. It is the times that can +perfect us, not we the times, and so let all of us wisely acquiesce. +Like the little wired marionettes, let us acquiesce in the dance. + +For behold! The Victorian era comes to its end and the day of sancta +simplicitas is quite ended. The old signs are here and the portents to +warn the seer of life that we are ripe for a new epoch of artifice. +Are not men rattling the dice-box and ladies dipping their fingers in +the rouge-pot? At Rome, in the keenest time of her degringolade, when +there was gambling even in the holy temples, great ladies (does not +Lucian tell us?) did not scruple to squander all they had upon +unguents from Arabia. Nero's mistress and unhappy wife, Poppaea, of +shameful memory, had in her travelling retinue fifteen--or, as some +say, fifty--she-asses, for the sake of their milk, that was thought an +incomparable guard against cosmetics with poison in them. Last +century, too, when life was lived by candle-light, and ethics was but +etiquette, and even art a question of punctilio, women, we know, gave +the best hours of the day to the crafty farding of their faces and the +towering of their coiffures. And men, throwing passion into the wine- +bowl to sink or swim, turned out thought to browse upon the green +cloth. Cannot we even now in our fancy see them, those silent +exquisites round the long table at Brooks's, masked, all of them, +`lest the countenance should betray feeling,' in quinze masks, through +whose eyelets they sat peeping, peeping, while macao brought them +riches or ruin! We can see them, those silent rascals, sitting there +with their cards and their rouleaux and their wooden money-bowls, long +after the dawn had crept up St. James's and pressed its haggard face +against the window of the little club. Yes, we can raise their ghosts- +-and, more, we can see manywhere a devotion to hazard fully as meek as +theirs. In England there has been a wonderful revival of cards. +Baccarat may rival dead faro in the tale of her devotees. We have all +seen the sweet English cha^telaine at her roulette wheel, and ere long +it may be that tender parents will be writing to complain of the +compulsory baccarat in our public schools. + +In fact, we are all gamblers once more, but our gambling is on a finer +scale than ever it was. We fly from the card-room to the heath, and +from the heath to the City, and from the City to the coast of the +Mediterranean. And just as no one seriously encourages the clergy in +its frantic efforts to lay the spirit of chance that has thus resurged +among us, so no longer are many faces set against that other great +sign of a more complicated life, the love for cosmetics. No longer is +a lady of fashion blamed if, to escape the outrageous persecution of +time, she fly for sanctuary to the toilet-table; and if a damosel, +prying in her mirror, be sure that with brush and pigment she can +trick herself into more charm, we are not angry. Indeed, why should we +ever have been? Surely it is laudable, this wish to make fair the ugly +and overtop fairness, and no wonder that within the last five years +the trade of the makers of cosmetics has increased immoderately-- +twentyfold, so one of these makers has said to me. We need but walk +down any modish street and peer into the little broughams that flit +past, or (in Thackeray's phrase) under the bonnet of any woman we +meet, to see over how wide a kingdom rouge reigns. + +And now that the use of pigments is becoming general, and most women +are not so young as they are painted, it may be asked curiously how +the prejudice ever came into being. Indeed, it is hard to trace folly, +for that it is inconsequent, to its start; and perhaps it savours too +much of reason to suggest that the prejudice was due to the tristful +confusion man has made of soul and surface. Through trusting so keenly +to the detection of the one by keeping watch upon the other, and by +force of the thousand errors following, he has come to think of +surface even as the reverse of soul. He seems to suppose that every +clown beneath his paint and lip-salve is moribund and knows it (though +in verity, I am told, clowns are as cheerful a class of men as any +other), that the fairer the fruit's rind and the more delectable its +bloom, the closer are packed the ashes within it. The very jargon of +the hunting-field connects cunning with a mask. And so perhaps came +man's anger at the embellishment of women--that lovely mask of enamel +with its shadows of pink and tiny pencilled veins, what must lurk +behind it? Of what treacherous mysteries may it not be the screen? +Does not the heathen lacquer her dark face, and the harlot paint her +cheeks, because sorrow has made them pale? + +After all, the old prejudice is a-dying. We need not pry into the +secret of its birth. Rather is this a time of jolliness and glad +indulgence. For the era of rouge is upon us, and as only in an +elaborate era can man, by the tangled accrescency of his own pleasures +and emotions, reach that refinement which is his highest excellence, +and by making himself, so to say, independent of Nature, come nearest +to God, so only in an elaborate era is woman perfect. Artifice is the +strength of the world, and in that same mask of paint and powder, +shadowed with vermeil tinct and most trimly pencilled, is woman's +strength. + +For see! We need not look so far back to see woman under the direct +influence of Nature. Early in this century, our grandmothers, +sickening of the odour of faded exotics and spilt wine, came out into +the daylight once more and let the breezes blow around their faces and +enter, sharp and welcome, into their lungs. Artifice they drove forth +and they set Martin Tupper upon a throne of mahogany to rule over +them. A very reign of terror set in. All things were sacrificed to the +fetish Nature. Old ladies may still be heard to tell how, when they +were girls, affectation was not; and, if we verify their assertion in +the light of such literary authorities as Dickens, we find that it is +absolutely true. Women appear to have been in those days utterly +natural in their conduct--flighty, fainting, blushing, gushing, +giggling, and shaking their curls. They knew no reserve in the first +days of the Victorian era. No thought was held too trivial, no emotion +too silly, to express. To Nature everything was sacrificed. Great +heavens! And in those barren days what influence did women exert! By +men they seem not to have been feared nor loved, but regarded rather +as `dear little creatures' or `wonderful little beings,' and in their +relation to life as foolish and ineffectual as the landscapes they did +in water-colour. Yet, if the women of those years were of no great +account, they had a certain charm, and they at least had not begun to +trespass upon men's ground; if they touched not thought, which is +theirs by right, at any rate they refrained from action, which is +ours. Far more serious was it when, in the natural trend of time, they +became enamoured of rinking and archery and galloping along the +Brighton Parade. Swiftly they have sped on since then from horror to +horror. The invasion of the tennis-courts and of the golf-links, the +seizure of the bicycle and of the typewriter, were but steps pre- +liminary in that campaign which is to end with the final victorious +occupation of St. Stephen's. But stay! The horrific pioneers of +womanhood who gad hither and thither and, confounding wisdom with the +device on her shield, shriek for the unbecoming, are doomed. Though +they spin their bicycle-treadles so amazingly fast, they are too late. +Though they scream victory, none follow them. Artifice, that fair +exile, has returned. + +Yes, though the pioneers know it not, they are doomed already. For of +the curiosities of history not the least strange is the manner in +which two social movements may be seen to overlap, long after the +second has, in truth, given its death-blow to the first. And, in like +manner, as one has seen the limbs of a murdered thing in lively +movement, so we need not doubt that, though the voices of those who +cry out for reform be very terribly shrill, they will soon be hushed. +Dear Artifice is with us. It needed but that we should wait. + +Surely, without any of my pleading, women will welcome their great and +amiable protectrix, as by instinct. For (have I not said?) it is upon +her that all their strength, their life almost, depends. Artifice's +first command to them is that they should repose. With bodily activity +their powder will fly, their enamel crack. They are butterflies who +must not flit, if they love their bloom. Now, setting aside the point +of view of passion, from which very many obvious things might be said +(and probably have been by the minor poets), it is, from the +intellectual point of view, quite necessary that a woman should +repose. Hers is the resupinate sex. On her couch she is a goddess, but +so soon as ever she put her foot to the ground--ho, she is the veriest +little sillypop, and quite done for. She cannot rival us in action, +but she is our mistress in the things of the mind. Let her not by +second-rate athletics, nor indeed by any exercise soever of the limbs, +spoil the pretty procedure of her reason. Let her be content to remain +the guide, the subtle suggester of what we must do, the strategist +whose soldiers we are, the little architect whose workmen. + +`After all,' as a pretty girl once said to me, `women are a sex by +themselves, so to speak,' and the sharper the line between their +worldly functions and ours, the better. This greater swiftness and +less erring subtlety of mind, their forte and privilege, justifies the +painted mask that Artifice bids them wear. Behind it their minds can +play without let. They gain the strength of reserve. They become +important, as in the days of the Roman Empire were the Emperor's +mistresses, as was the Pompadour at Versailles, as was our Elizabeth. +Yet do not their faces become lined with thought; beautiful and +without meaning are their faces. + +And, truly, of all the good things that will happen with the full +revival of cosmetics, one of the best is that surface will finally be +severed from soul. That damnable confusion will be solved by the +extinguishing of a prejudice which, as I suggest, itself created. Too +long has the face been degraded from its rank as a thing of beauty to +a mere vulgar index of character or emotion. We had come to troubling +ourselves, not with its charm of colour and line, but with such ques- +tions as whether the lips were sensuous, the eyes full of sadness, the +nose indicative of determination. I have no quarrel with physiognomy. +For my own part I believe in it. But it has tended to degrade the face +aesthetically, in such wise as the study of cheirosophy has tended to +degrade the hand. And the use of cosmetics, the masking of the face, +will change this. We shall gaze at a woman merely because she is beau- +tiful, not stare into her face anxiously, as into the face of a +barometer. + +How fatal it has been, in how many ways, this confusion of soul and +service! Wise were the Greeks in making plain masks for their mummers +to play in, and dunces we not to have done the same! Only the other +day, an actress was saying that what she was most proud of in her art- +-next, of course, to having appeared in some provincial pantomime at +the age of three--was the deftness with which she contrived, in parts +demanding a rapid succession of emotions, to dab her cheeks quite +quickly with rouge from the palm of her right hand or powder from the +palm of her left. Gracious goodness! why do not we have masks upon the +stage? Drama is the presentment of the soul in action. The mirror of +the soul is the voice. Let the young critics, who seek a cheap +reputation for austerity, by cavilling at `incidental music,' set +their faces rather against the attempt to justify inferior dramatic +art by the subvention of a quite alien art like painting, of any art, +indeed, whose sphere is only surface. Let those, again, who sneer, so +rightly, at the `painted anecdotes of the Academy,' censure equally +the writers who trespass on painters' ground. It is a proclaimed sin +that a painter should concern himself with a good little girl's +affection for a Scotch greyhound, or the keen enjoyment of their port +by elderly gentlemen of the early 'forties. Yet, for a painter to prod +the soul with his paint-brush is no worse than for a novelist to +refuse to dip under the surface, and the fashion of avoiding a +psychological study of grief by stating that the owner's hair turned +white in a single night, or of shame by mentioning a sudden rush of +scarlet to the cheeks, is as lamentable as may be. But! But with the +universal use of cosmetics and the consequent secernment of soul and +surface, upon which, at the risk of irritating a reader, I must again +insist, all those old properties that went to bolster up the ordinary +novel--the trembling lips, the flashing eyes, the determined curve of +the chin, the nervous trick of biting the moustache, aye, and the +hectic spot of red on either cheek--will be made spiflicate, as the +puppets were spiflicated by Don Quixote. Yes, even now Demos begins to +discern. The same spirit that has revived rouge, smote his mouth as it +grinned at the wondrous painter of mist and river, and now sends him +sprawling for the pearls that Meredith dived for in the deep waters of +romance. + +Indeed the revival of cosmetics must needs be so splendid an +influence, conjuring boons innumerable, that one inclines almost to +mutter against that inexorable law by which Artifice must perish from +time to time. That such branches of painting as the staining of glass +or the illuminating of manuscripts should fall into disuse seems, in +comparison, so likely; these were esoteric arts; they died with the +monastic spirit. But personal appearance is art's very basis. The +painting of the face is the first kind of painting men can have known. +To make beautiful things--is it not an impulse laid upon few? But to +make oneself beautiful is an universal instinct. Strange that the +resultant art could ever perish! So fascinating an art too! So various +in its materials from stimmis, psimythium, and fuligo to bismuth and +arsenic, so simple in that its ground and its subject-matter are one, +so marvellous in that its very subject-matter becomes lovely when an +artist has selected it! For surely this is no idle nor fantastic +saying. To deny that `making up' is an art, on the pretext that the +finished work of its exponents depends for beauty and excellence upon +the ground chosen for the work, is absurd. At the touch of a true +artist, the plainest face turns comely. As subject-matter the face is +no more than suggestive, as ground, merely a loom round which the +beatus artifex may spin the threads of any golden fabric: + +`Quae nunc nomen habent operosi signa Maronis +Pondus iners quondam duraque massa fuit. +Multa viros nescire decet; pars maxima rerum +Offendat, si non interiora tegas,' + +and, as Ovid would seem to suggest, by pigments any tone may be set +aglow on a woman's cheek, from enamel the features take any form. +Insomuch that surely the advocates of soup-kitchens and free-libraries +and other devices for giving people what Providence did not mean them +to receive should send out pamphlets in the praise of self- +embellishment. For it will place Beauty within easy reach of many who +could not otherwise hope to attain to it. + +But of course Artifice is rather exacting. In return for the repose +she forces--so wisely!--upon her followers when the sun is high or the +moon is blown across heaven, she demands that they should pay her long +homage at the sun's rising. The initiate may not enter lightly upon +her mysteries. For, if a bad complexion be inexcusable, to be ill- +painted is unforgivable; and, when the toilet is laden once more with +the fulness of its elaboration, we shall hear no more of the proper +occupation for women. And think, how sweet an energy, to sit at the +mirror of coquetry! See the dear merits of the toilet as shown upon +old vases, or upon the walls of Roman ruins, or, rather still, read +Bo"ttiger's alluring, scholarly description of `Morgenscenen im +Puttzimmer Einer Reichen Ro"merin.' Read of Sabina's face as she comes +through the curtain of her bed-chamber to the chamber of her toilet. +The slavegirls have long been chafing their white feet upon the marble +floor. They stand, those timid Greek girls, marshalled in little +battalions. Each has her appointed task, and all kneel in welcome as +Sabina stalks, ugly and frowning, to the toilet chair. Scaphion steps +forth from among them, and, dipping a tiny sponge in a bowl of hot +milk, passes it lightly, ever so lightly, over her mistress' face. The +Poppaean pastes melt beneath it like snow. A cooling lotion is poured +over her brow, and is fanned with feathers. Phiale comes after, a +clever girl, captured in some sea-skirmish on the Aegean. In her left +hand she holds the ivory box wherein are the phucus and that white +powder, psimythium; in her right a sheaf of slim brushes. With how +sure a touch does she mingle the colours, and in what sweet proportion +blushes and blanches her lady's upturned face. Phiale is the cleverest +of all the slaves. Now Calamis dips her quill in a certain powder that +floats, liquid and sable, in the hollow of her palm. Standing upon +tip-toe and with lips parted, she traces the arch of the eyebrows. The +slaves whisper loudly of their lady's beauty, and two of them hold up +a mirror to her. Yes, the eyebrows are rightly arched. But why does +Psecas abase herself? She is craving leave to powder Sabina's hair +with a fine new powder. It is made of the grated rind of the cedar- +tree, and a Gallic perfumer, whose stall is near the Circus, gave it +to her for a kiss. No lady in Rome knows of it. And so, when four +special slaves have piled up the headdress, out of a perforated box +this glistening powder is showered. Into every little brown ringlet it +enters, till Sabina's hair seems like a pile of gold coins. Lest the +breezes send it flying, the girls lay the powder with sprinkled attar. +Soon Sabina will start for the Temple of Cybele. + +Ah! Such are the lures of the toilet that none will for long hold +aloof from them. Cosmetics are not going to be a mere prosaic remedy +for age or plainness, but all ladies and all young girls will come to +love them. Does not a certain blithe Marquise, whose lettres intimes +from the Court of Louis Seize are less read than their wit deserves, +tell us how she was scandalised to see `me^me les toutes jeunes +demoiselles e'maille'es comme ma tabatie`re'? So it shall be with us. +Surely the common prejudice against painting the lily can but be based +on mere ground of economy. That which is already fair is complete, it +may be urged--urged implausibly, for there are not so many lovely +things in this world that we can afford not to know each one of them +by heart. There is only one white lily, and who that has ever seen--as +I have--a lily really well painted could grudge the artist so fair a +ground for his skill? Scarcely do you believe through how many nice +metamorphoses a lily may be passed by him. In like manner, we all know +the young girl, with her simpleness, her goodness, her wayward +ignorance. And a very charming ideal for England must she have been, +and a very natural one, when a young girl sat even on the throne. But +no nation can keep its ideal for ever, and it needed none of Mr. +Gilbert's delicate satire in `Utopia' to remind us that she had passed +out of our ken with the rest of the early Victorian era. What writer +of plays, as lately asked some pressman, who had been told off to +attend many first nights and knew what he was talking about, ever +dreams of making the young girl the centre of his theme? Rather he +seeks inspiration from the tried and tired woman of the world, in all +her intricate maturity, whilst, by way of comic relief, he sends the +young girl flitting in and out with a tennis-racket, the poor eido^lon +amauron of her former self. The season of the unsophisticated is gone +by, and the young girl's final extinction beneath the rising tides of +cosmetics will leave no gap in life and will rob art of nothing. + +`Tush,' I can hear some damned flutterpate exclaim, `girlishness and +innocence are as strong and as permanent as womanhood itself! Why, a +few months past, the whole town went mad over Miss Cissie Loftus! Was +not hers a success of girlish innocence and the absence of rouge? If +such things as these be outmoded, why was she so wildly popular?' +Indeed, the triumph of that clever girl, whose de'but made London nice +even in August, is but another witness to the truth of my contention. +In a very sophisticated time, simplicity has a new dulcedo. Hers was a +success of contrast. Accustomed to clever malaperts like Miss Lloyd or +Miss Reeve, whose experienced pouts and smiles under the sun-bonnet +are a standing burlesque of innocence and girlishness, Demos was +really delighted, for once and away, to see the real presentment of +these things upon his stage. Coming after all those sly serios, coming +so young and mere with her pink frock and straightly combed hair, Miss +Cissie Loftus had the charm which things of another period often do +possess. Besides, just as we adored her for the abrupt nod with which +she was wont at first to acknowledge the applause, so we were glad for +her to come upon the stage with nothing to tinge the ivory of her +cheeks. It seemed so strange, that neglect of convention. To be behind +footlights and not rouged! Yes, hers was a success of contrast. She +was like a daisy in the window at Solomons'. She was delightful. And +yet, such is the force of convention, that when last I saw her, +playing in some burlesque at the Gaiety, her fringe was curled and her +pretty face rouged with the best of them. And, if further need be to +show the absurdity of having called her performance `a triumph of +naturalness over the jaded spirit of modernity,' let us reflect that +the little mimic was not a real old-fashioned girl after all. She had +none of that restless naturalness that would seem to have +characterised the girl of the early Victorian days. She had no pretty +ways-- no smiles nor blushes nor tremors. Possibly Demos could not +have stood a presentment of girlishness unrestrained. + +But, with her grave insouciance, Miss Cissie Loftus had much of the +reserve that is one of the factors of feminine perfection, and to most +comes only, as I have said, with artifice. Her features played very, +very slightly. And in truth, this may have been one of the reasons of +her great success. For expression is but too often the ruin of a face; +and, since we cannot, as yet, so order the circumstances of life that +women shall never be betrayed into `an unbecoming emotion,' when the +brunette shall never have cause to blush nor La Gioconda to frown, the +safest way by far is to create, by brush and pigments, artificial +expression for every face. + +And this--say you?--will make monotony? You are mistaken, tots caelo +mistaken. When your mistress has wearied you with one expression, then +it will need but a few touches of that pencil, a backward sweep of +that brush, and ho, you will be revelling in another. For though, of +course, the painting of the face is, in manner, most like the painting +of canvas, in outcome it is rather akin to the art of music--lasting, +like music's echo, not for very long. So that, no doubt, of the many +little appurtenances of the Reformed Toilet Table, not the least vital +will be a list of the emotions that become its owner, with recipes for +simulating them. According to the colour she wills her hair to be for +the time--black or yellow or, peradventure, burnished red--she will +blush for you, sneer for you, laugh or languish for you. The good +combinations of line and colour are nearly numberless, and by their +means poor restless woman will be able to realise her moods in all +their shades and lights and dappledoms, to live many lives and +masquerade through many moments of joy. No monotony will be. And for +us men matrimony will have lost its sting. + +But that in the world of women they will not neglect this art, so +ripping in itself, in its result so wonderfully beneficent, I am sure +indeed. Much, I have said, is already done for its full revival. The +spirit of the age has made straight the path of its professors. +Fashion has made Jezebel surrender her monopoly of the rouge-pot. As +yet, the great art of self-embellishment is for us but in its infancy. +But if Englishwomen can bring it to the flower of an excellence so +supreme as never yet has it known, then, though Old England lose her +martial and commercial supremacy, we patriots will have the +satisfaction of knowing that she has been advanced at one bound to a +place in the councils of aesthetic Europe. And, in sooth, is this +hoping too high of my countrywomen? True that, as the art seems always +to have appealed to the ladies of Athens, and it was not until the +waning time of the Republic that Roman ladies learned to love the +practice of it, so Paris, Athenian in this as in all other things, has +been noted hitherto as a far more vivid centre of the art than London. +But it was in Rome, under the Emperors, that unguentaria reached its +zenith, and shall it not be in London, soon, that unguentaria shall +outstrip its Roman perfection! Surely there must be among us artists +as cunning in the use of brush and puff as any who lived at +Versailles. Surely the splendid, impalpable advance of good taste, as +shown in dress and in the decoration of houses, may justify my hope of +the pree"minence of Englishwomen in the cosmetic art. By their innate +delicacy of touch they will accomplish much, and much, of course, by +their swift feminine perception. Yet it were well that they should +know something also of the theoretical side of the craft. Modern +authorities upon the mysteries of the toilet are, it is true, rather +few; but among the ancients many a writer would seem to have been +fascinated by them. Archigenes, a man of science at the Court of +Cleopatra, and Criton at the Court of the Emperor Trajan, both wrote +treatises upon cosmetics--doubtless most scholarly treatises that +would have given many a precious hint. It is a pity they are not +extant. From Lucian or from Juvenal, with his bitter picture of a +Roman leve'e, much may be learnt; from the staid pages of Xenophon and +Aristophanes' dear farces. But best of all is that fine book of the +Ars Amatoria that Ovid has set aside for the consideration of dyes, +perfumes, and pomades. Written by an artist who knew the allurement of +the toilet and understood its philosophy, it remains without rival as +a treatise upon Artifice. It is more than a poem, it is a manual; and +if there be left in England any lady who cannot read Latin in the +original, she will do well to procure a discreet translation. In the +Bodleian Library there is treasured the only known copy of a very +poignant and delightful rendering of this one book of Ovid's +masterpiece. It was made by a certain Wye Waltonstall, who lived in +the days of Elizabeth, and, seeing that he dedicated it to `the +Vertuous Ladyes and Gentlewomen of Great Britain,' I am sure that the +gallant writer, could he know of our great renaissance of cosmetics, +would wish his little work to be placed once more within their reach. +`Inasmuch as to you, ladyes and gentlewomen,' so he writes in his +queer little dedication, `my booke of pigments doth first addresse +itself, that it may kisse your hands and afterward have the lines +thereof in reading sweetened by the odour of your breath, while the +dead letters formed into words by your divided lips may receive new +life by your passionate expression, and the words marryed in that Ruby +coloured temple may thus happily united, multiply your contentment.' +It is rather sad to think that, at this crisis in the history of +pigments, the Vertuous Ladyes and Gentlewomen cannot read the libellus +of Wye Waltonstall, who did so dearly love pigments. + +But since the days when these great critics wrote their treatises, +with what gifts innumerable has Artifice been loaded by Science! Many +little partitions must be added to the narthecium before it can +comprehend all the new cosmetics that have been quietly devised since +classical days, and will make the modern toilet chalks away more +splendid in its possibilities. A pity that no one has devoted himself +to the compiling of a new list; but doubtless all the newest devices +are known to the admirable unguentarians of Bond Street, who will +impart them to their clients. Our thanks, too, should be given to +Science for ridding us of the old danger that was latent in the use of +cosmetics. Nowadays they cannot, being purged of any poisonous +element, do harm to the skin that they make beautiful. There need be +no more sowing the seeds of destruction in the furrows of time, no +martyrs to the cause like Maria, Countess of Coventry, that fair dame +but infelix, who died, so they relate, from the effect of a poisonous +rouge upon her lips. No, we need have no fears now. Artifice will +claim not another victim from among her worshippers. + +Loveliness shall sit at the toilet, watching her oval face in the oval +mirror. Her smooth fingers shall flit among the paints and powder, to +tip and mingle them, catch up a pencil, clasp a phial, and what not +and what not, until the mask of vermeil tinct has been laid aptly, the +enamel quite hardened. And, heavens, how she will charm us and +ensorcel our eyes! Positively rouge will rob us for a time of all our +reason; we shall go mad over masks. Was it not at Capua that they had +a whole street where nothing was sold but dyes and unguents? We must +have such a street, and, to fill our new Seplasia, our Arcade of the +Unguents, all herbs and minerals and live creatures shall give of +their substance. The white cliffs of Albion shall be ground to powder +for Loveliness, and perfumed by the ghost of many a little violet. The +fluffy eider-ducks, that are swimming round the pond, shall lose their +feathers, that the powder-puff may be moonlike as it passes over +Loveliness' lovely face. Even the camels shall become ministers of +delight, giving many tufts of their hair to be stained in her splendid +colour-box, and across her cheek the swift hare's foot shall fly as of +old. The sea shall offer her the phucus, its scarlet weed. We shall +spill the blood of mulberries at her bidding. And, as in another +period of great ecstasy, a dancing wanton, la belle Aubrey, was +crowned upon a church's lighted altar, so Arsenic, that `greentress'd +goddess,' ashamed at length of skulking between the soup of the +unpopular and the test-tubes of the Queen's analyst, shall be exalted +to a place of consummate honour upon the toilet-table of Loveliness. + +All these things shall come to pass. Times of jolliness and glad +indulgence! For Artifice, whom we drove forth, has returned among us, +and, though her eyes are red with crying, she is smiling forgiveness. +She is kind. Let us dance and be glad, and trip the cockawhoop! +Artifice, sweetest exile, is come into her kingdom. Let us dance her a +welcome! + +Oxford, 1894. + + +Poor Romeo! + +Even now Bath glories in his legend, not idly, for he was the most +fantastic animal that ever stepped upon her pavement. Were ever a +statue given him (and indeed he is worthy of a grotesque in marble), +it would be put in Pulteney Street or the Circus. I know that the palm +trees of Antigua overshadowed his cradle, that there must be even now +in Boulogne many who set eyes on him in the time of his less fatuous +declension, that he died in London. But Mr. Coates (for of that Romeo +I write) must be claimed by none of these places. Bath saw the +laughable disaster of his de'but, and so, in a manner, his whole life +seems to belong to her, and the story of it to be a part of her +annals. + +The Antiguan was already on the brink of middle-age when he first trod +the English shore. But, for all his thirty-seven years, he had the +heart of a youth, and his purse being yet as heavy as his heart was +light, the English sun seemed to shine gloriously about his path and +gild the letters of introduction that he scattered everywhere. Also, +he was a gentleman of amiable, nearly elegant mien, and something of a +scholar. His father had been the most respectable resident Antigua +could show, so that little Robert, the future Romeo, had often sat at +dessert with distinguished travellers through the Indies. But in the +year 1807 old Mr. Coates had died. As we may read in vol. lxxviii. of +The Gentleman's Magazine, `the Almighty, whom he alone feared, was +pleased to take him from this life, after having sustained an +untarnished reputation for seventy-three years,' a passage which, +though objectionable in its theology, gives the true story of Romeo's +antecedents and disposes of the later calumnies that declared him the +son of a tailor. Realising that he was now an orphan, an orphan with +not a few grey hairs, our hero had set sail in quest of amusing +adventure. + +For three months he took the waters of Bath, unobtrusively, like other +well-bred visitors. His attendance was solicited for all the most +fashionable routs, and at assemblies he sat always in the shade of +some titled turban. In fact, Mr. Coates was a great success. There was +an air of most romantic mystery that endeared his presence to all the +damsels fluttering fans in the Pump Room. It set them vying for his +conduct through the mazes of the Quadrille or of the Triumph, and +blushing at the sound of his name. Alas! their tremulous rivalry +lasted not long. Soon they saw that Emma, sole daughter of Sir James +Tylney Long, that wealthy baronet, had cast a magic net about the warm +Antiguan heart. In the wake of her chair, by night and day, Mr. Coates +was obsequious. When she cried that she would not drink the water +without some delicacy to banish the iron taste, it was he who stood by +with a box of vanilla-rusks. When he shaved his great moustachio, it +was at her caprice. And his devotion to Miss Emma was the more noted +for that his own considerable riches were proof that it was true and +single. He himself warned her, in some verses written for him by +Euphemia Boswell, against the crew of penniless admirers who +surrounded her : + +`Lady, ah! too bewitching lady! now beware +Of artful men that fain would thee ensnare +Not for thy merit, but thy fortune's sake. +Give me your hand--your cash let venals take.' + +Miss Emma was his first love. To understand his subsequent behaviour, +let us remember that Cupid's shaft pierces most poignantly the breast +of middle-age. Not that Mr. Coates was laughed at in Bath for a love- +a-lack-a-daisy. On the contrary, his mien, his manner, were as yet so +studiously correct, his speech so reticent, that laughter had been +unusually inept. The only strange taste evinced by him was his +devotion to theatricals. He would hold forth, by the hour, upon the +fine conception of such parts as Macbeth, Othello and, especially, +Romeo. Many ladies and gentlemen were privileged to hear him recite, +in this or that drawing-room, after supper. All testified to the real +fire with which he inflamed the lines of love or hatred. His voice, +his gesture, his scholarship, were all approved. A fine symphony of +praise assured Mr. Coates that no suitor worthier than he had ever +courted Thespis. The lust for the footlights' glare grew lurid in his +mothish eye. What, after all, were these poor triumphs of the parlour? +It might be that contemptuous Emma, hearing the loud salvos of the +gallery and boxes, would call him at length her lord. + +At this time there arrived at the York House Mr. Pryse Gordon, whose +memoirs we know. Mr. Coates himself was staying at number ** Gay +Street, but was in the habit of breakfasting daily at the York House, +where he attracted Mr. Gordon's attention by `rehearsing passages from +Shakespeare, with a tone and gesture extremely striking both to the +eye and the ear.' Mr. Gordon warmly complimented him and suggested +that he should give a public exposition of his art. The cheeks of the +amateur flushed with pleasure. `I am ready and willing,' he replied, +`to play "Romeo" to a Bath audience, if the manager will get up the +play and give me a good "Juliet"; my costume is superb and adorned +with diamonds, but I have not the advantage of knowing the manager, +Dimonds.' Pleased by the stranger's ready wit, Mr. Gordon scribbled a +note of introduction to Dimonds there and then. So soon as he had +`discussed a brace of muffins and so many eggs,' the new Romeo started +for the playhouse, and that very day bills were posted to the effect +that `a Gentleman of Fashion would make his first appearance on +February 9 in a ro^le of Shakespeare.' All the lower boxes were +immediately secured by Lady Belmore and other lights of Bath. `Butlers +and Abigails,' it is said, `were commanded by their mistresses to take +their stand in the centre of the pit and give Mr. Coates a capital, +hearty clapping.' Indeed, throughout the week that elapsed before the +premie`re, no pains were spared in assuring a great success. Miss +Tylney Long showed some interest in the arrangements. Gossip spoke of +her as a likely bride. + +The night came. Fashion, Virtue, and Intellect thronged the house. +Nothing could have been more cordial than the temper of the gallery. +All were eager to applaud the new Romeo. Presently, when the varlets +of Verona had brawled, there stepped into the square--what!--a +mountebank, a monstrosity. Hurrah died upon every lip. The house was +thunderstruck. Whose legs were in those scarlet pantaloons? Whose face +grinned over that bolster-cravat, and under that Charles II. wig and +opera-hat? From whose shoulders hung that spangled sky-blue cloak? Was +this bedizened scarecrow the Amateur of Fashion, for sight of whom +they had paid their shillings? At length a voice from the gallery +cried, `Good evening, Mr. Coates,' and, as the Antiguan--for he it +was--bowed low, the theatre was filled with yells of merriment. Only +the people in the boxes were still silent, staring coldly at the +prote'ge' who had played them so odious a prank. Lady Belmore rose and +called for her chariot. Her example was followed by several ladies of +rank. The rest sat spellbound, and of their number was Miss Tylney +Long, at whose rigid face many glasses were, of course, directed. +Meanwhile the play proceeded. Those lines that were not drowned in +laughter Mr. Coates spoke in the most foolish and extravagant manner. +He cut little capers at odd moments. He laid his hand on his heart and +bowed, now to this, now to that part of the house, always with a grin. +In the balcony-scene he produced a snuff-box, and, after taking a +pinch, offered it to the bewildered Juliet. Coming down to the +footlights, he laid it on the cushion of the stage-box and begged the +inmates to refresh themselves, and to `pass the golden trifle on.' The +performance, so obviously grotesque, was just the kind of thing to +please the gods. The limp of Hephaestus could not have called laughter +so unquenchable from their lips. It is no trifle to set Englishmen +laughing, but once you have done it, you can hardly stop them. Act +after act of the beautiful love-play was performed without one sign of +satiety from the seers of it. The laughter rather swelled in volume. +Romeo died in so ludicrous a way that a cry of `encore' arose and the +death was actually twice repeated. At the fall of the curtain there +was prolonged applause. Mr. Coates came forward, and the good-humoured +public pelted him with fragments of the benches. One splinter struck +his right temple, inflicting a scar, of which Mr. Coates was, in his +old age, not a little proud. Such is the traditional account of this +curious de'but. Mr. Pryse Gordon, however, in his memoirs tells +another tale. He professes to have seen nothing peculiar in Romeo's +dress, save its display of fine diamonds, and to have admired the +whole interpretation. The attitude of the audience he attributes to a +hostile cabal. John R. and Hunter H. Robinson, in their memoir of +Romeo Coates, echo Mr. Pryse Gordon's tale. They would have done well +to weigh their authorities more accurately. + +I had often wondered at this discrepancy between document and +tradition. Last spring, when I was in Bath for a few days, my mind +brooded especially on the question. Indeed, Bath, with her faded +memories, her tristesse, drives one to reverie. Fashion no longer +smiles from her windows nor dances in her sunshine, and in her +deserted parks the invalids build up their constitutions. Now and +again, as one of the frequent chairs glided past me, I wondered if its +shadowy freight were the ghost of poor Romeo. I felt sure that the +traditional account of his de'but was mainly correct. How could it, +indeed, be false? Tradition is always a safer guide to truth than is +the tale of one man. I might amuse myself here, in Bath, by verifying +my notion of the de'but or proving it false. + +One morning I was walking through a narrow street in the western +quarter of Bath, and came to the window of a very little shop, which +was full of dusty books, prints and engravings. I spied in one corner +of it the discoloured print of a queer, lean figure, posturing in a +garden. In one hand this figure held a snuff-box, in the other an +opera-hat. Its sharp features and wide grin, flanked by luxuriant +whiskers, looked strange under a Caroline wig. Above it was a balcony +and a lady in an attitude of surprise. Beneath it were these words, +faintly lettered : Bombastes Coates wooing the Peerless Capulet, +that's 'nough (that snuff) 1809. I coveted the print. I went into the +shop. + +A very old man peered at me and asked my errand. I pointed to the +print of Mr. Coates, which he gave me for a few shillings, chuckling +at the pun upon the margin. + +`Ah,' he said, `they're forgetting him now, but he was a fine figure, +a fine sort of figure.' + +`You saw him?' + +`No, no. I'm only seventy. But I've known those who saw him. My father +had a pile of such prints.' + +`Did your father see him?' I asked, as the old man furled my treasure +and tied it with a piece of tape. + +`My father, sir, was a friend of Mr. Coates,' he said. `He entertained +him in Gay Street. Mr. Coates was my father's lodger all the months he +was in Bath. A good tenant, too. Never eccentric under my father's +roof--never eccentric.' + +I begged the old bookseller to tell me more of this matter. It seemed +that his father had been a citizen of some consequence, and had owned +a house in modish Gay Street, where he let lodgings. Thither, by the +advice of a friend, Mr. Coates had gone so soon as he arrived in the +town, and had stayed there down to the day after his de'but, when he +left for London. + +`My father often told me that Mr. Coates was crying bitterly when he +settled the bill and got into his travelling-chaise. He'd come back +from the playhouse the night before as cheerful as could be. He'd said +he didn't mind what the public thought of his acting. But in the +morning a letter was brought for him, and when he read it he seemed to +go quite mad.' + +`I wonder what was in the letter!' I asked. `Did your father never +know who sent it?' + +`Ah,' my greybeard rejoined, `that's the most curious thing. And it's +a secret. I can't tell you.' + +He was not as good as his word. I bribed him delicately with the +purchase of more than one old book. Also, I think, he was flattered by +my eager curiosity to learn his long-pent secret. He told me that the +letter was brought to the house by one of the footmen of Sir James +Tylney Long, and that his father himself delivered it into the hands +of Mr. Coates. + +`When he had read it through, the poor gentleman tore it into many +fragments, and stood staring before him, pale as a ghost. "I must not +stay another hour in Bath," he said. When he was gone, my father (God +forgive him!) gathered up all the scraps of the letter, and for a long +time he tried to piece them together. But there were a great many of +them, and my father was not a scholar, though he was affluent.' + +`What became of the scraps?' I asked. `Did your father keep them?' + +`Yes, he did. And I used to try, when I was younger, to make out +something from them. But even I never seemed to get near it. I've +never thrown them away, though. They're in a box.' + +I got them for a piece of gold that I could ill spare--some score or +so of shreds of yellow paper, traversed with pale ink. The joy of the +archaeologist with an unknown papyrus, of the detective with a clue, +surged in me. Indeed, I was not sure whether I was engaged in private +inquiry or in research; so recent, so remote was the mystery. After +two days' labour, I marshalled the elusive words. This is the text of +them: + + +MR. COATES, SIR, + +They say Revenge is sweet. I am fortunate to find it is so. I have +compelled you to be far more a Fool than you made me at the fe^te- +champe^tre of Lady B. & I, having accomplished my aim, am ready to +forgive you now, as you implored me on the occasion of the fe^te. But +pray build no Hope that I, forgiving you, will once more regard you as +my Suitor. For that cannot ever be. I decided you should show yourself +a Fool before many people. But such Folly does not commend your hand +to mine. Therefore desist your irksome attention &, if need be, begone +from Bath. I have punished you, & would save my eyes the trouble to +turn away from your person. I pray that you regard this epistle as +privileged and private. + +E. T. L. 10 of February. + + +The letter lies before me as I write. It is written throughout in a +firm and very delicate Italian hand. Under the neat initials is drawn, +instead of the ordinary flourish, an arrow, and the absence of any +erasure in a letter of such moment suggests a calm, deliberate +character and, probably, rough copies. I did not, at the time, suffer +my fancy to linger over the tessellated document. I set to elucidating +the reference to the fe^te-champe^tre. As I retraced my footsteps to +the little bookshop, I wondered if I should find any excuse for the +cruel faithlessness of Emma Tylney Long. + +The bookseller was greatly excited when I told him I had re-created +the letter. He was very eager to see it. I did not pander to his +curiosity. He even offered to buy the article back at cost price. I +asked him if he had ever heard, in his youth, of any scene that had +passed between Miss Tylney Long and Mr. Coates at some fe^te- +champe^tre. The old man thought for some time, but he could not help +me. Where then, I asked him, could I search old files of local news- +papers? He told me that there were supposed to be many such files +mouldering in the archives of the Town Hall. + +I secured access, without difficulty, to these files. A whole day I +spent in searching the copies issued by this and that journal during +the months that Romeo was in Bath. In the yellow pages of these +forgotten prints I came upon many complimentary allusions to Mr. +Coates : `The visitor welcomed (by all our aristocracy) from distant +Ind,' `the ubiquitous,' `the charitable riche.' Of his `forthcoming +impersonation of Romeo and Juliet' there were constant puffs, quite in +the modern manner. The accounts of his de'but all showed that Mr. +Pryse Gordon's account of it was fabulous. In one paper there was a +bitter attack on `Mr. Gordon, who was responsible for this insult to +Thespian art, the gentry, and the people, for he first arranged the +whole production'--an extract which makes it clear that this gentleman +had a good motive for his version of the affair. + +But I began to despair of ever learning what happened at the fe^te- +champe^tre. There were accounts of `a grand garden-party, whereto Lady +Belper, on March the twenty-eighth, invited a host of fashionable +persons.' The names of Mr. Coates and of `Sir James Tylney Long and +his daughter' were duly recorded in the lists. But that was all. I +turned at length to a tiny file, consisting of five copies only, +Bladud's Courier. Therein I found this paragraph, followed by some +scurrilities which I will not quote: + + +`Mr. C**t*s, who will act Romeo (Wherefore art thou Romeo?) this +coming week for the pleasure of his fashionable circle, incurred the +contemptuous wrath of his Lady Fair at the Fe^te. It was a sad pity +she entrusted him to hold her purse while she fed the gold-fishes. He +was very proud of the honour till the gold fell from his hand among +the gold-fishes. How appropriate was the misadventure! But Miss Black +Eyes, angry at her loss and her swain's clumsiness, cried: "Jump into +the pond, sir, and find my purse instanter!" Several wags encouraged +her, and the ladies were of the opinion that her adorer should +certainly dive for the treasure. "Alas," the fellow said, "I cannot +swim, Miss. But tell me how many guineas you carried and I will make +them good to yourself." There was a great deal of laughter at this +encounter, and the haughty damsel turned on her heel, nor did shoe +vouchsafe another word to her elderly lover. + +`When recreant man +Meets lady's wrath, &c. &c.' + + +So the story of the de'but was complete! Was ever a lady more +inexorable, more ingenious, in her revenge? One can fancy the poor +Antiguan going to the Baronet's house next day with a bouquet of +flowers and passionately abasing himself, craving her forgiveness. One +can fancy the wounded vanity of the girl, her shame that people had +mocked her for the disobedience of her suitor. Revenge, as her letter +shows, became her one thought. She would strike him through his other +love, the love of Thespis. `I have compelled you,' she wrote +afterwards, in her bitter triumph, `to be a greater Fool than you made +me.' She, then, it was that drove him to his public absurdity, she who +insisted that he should never win her unless he sacrificed his dear +longing for stage-laurels and actually pilloried himself upon the +stage. The wig, the pantaloons, the snuff-box, the grin, were all +conceived, I fancy, in her pitiless spite. It is possible that she did +but say: `The more ridiculous you make yourself, the more hope for +you.' But I do not believe that Mr. Coates, a man of no humour, +conceived the means himself. They were surely hers. + +It is terrible to think of the ambitious amateur in his bedroom, +secretly practising hideous antics or gazing at his absurd apparel +before a mirror. How loath must he have been to desecrate the lines he +loved so dearly and had longed to declaim in all their beauty and +their resonance! And then, what irony at the daily rehearsal! With how +sad a smile must he have received the compliments of Mr. Dimonds on +his fine performance, knowing how different it would all be `on the +night! `Nothing could have steeled him to the ordeal but his great +love. He must have wavered, had not the exaltation of his love +protected him. But the jeers of the mob were music in his hearing, his +wounds love-symbols. Then came the girl's cruel contempt of his +martyrdom. + +Aphrodite, who has care of lovers, did not spare Miss Tylney Long. She +made her love, a few months after, one who married her for her fortune +and broke her heart. In years of misery the wayward girl worked out +the penance of her unpardonable sin, dying, at length, in poverty and +despair. Into the wounds of him who had so truly loved her was poured, +after a space of fourteen years, the balsam of another love. On the +6th September 1823, at St. George's, Hanover Square, Mr. Coates was +married to Miss Anne Robinson, who was a faithful and devoted wife to +him till he died. + +Meanwhile, the rejected Romeo did not long repine. Two months after +the tragedy at Bath, he was at Brighton, mingling with all the +fashionable folk, and giving admirable recitations at routs. He was +seen every day on the Parade, attired in an extravagant manner, very +different to that he had adopted in Bath. A pale-blue surtout, +tasselled Hessians, and a cocked hat were the most obvious items of +his costume. He also affected a very curious tumbril, shaped like a +shell and richly gilded. In this he used to drive around, every +afternoon, amid the gapes of the populace. It is evident that, once +having tasted the fruit of notoriety, he was loath to fall back on +simpler fare. He had become a prey to the love of absurd ostentation. +A lively example of dandyism unrestrained by taste, he parodied in his +person the foibles of Mr. Brummell and the King. His diamonds and his +equipage and other follies became the gossip of every newspaper in +England. Nor did a day pass without the publication of some little +rigmarole from his pen. Wherever there was a vacant theatre--were it +in Cheltenham, Birmingham, or any other town--he would engage it for +his productions. One night he would play his favourite part, Romeo, +with reverence and ability. The next, he would repeat his first +travesty in all its hideous harlequinade. Indeed, there can be little +doubt that Mr. Coates, with his vile performances, must be held +responsible for the decline of dramatic art in England and the +invasion of the amateur. The sight of such folly, strutting unabashed, +spoilt the prestige of the theatre. To-day our stage is filled with +tailors'-dummy heroes, with heroines who have real curls and can open +and shut their eyes and, at a pinch, say `mamma' and `papa.' We must +blame the Antiguan, I fear, for their existence. It was he--the +rascal--who first spread that scenae sacra fames. Some say that he was +a schemer and impostor, feigning eccentricity for his private ends. +They are quite wrong; Mr. Coates was a very good man. He never made a +penny out of his performances; he even lost many hundred pounds. +Moreover, as his speeches before the curtain and his letters to the +papers show, he took himself quite seriously. Only the insane take +themselves quite seriously. + +It was the unkindness of his love that maddened him. But he lived to +be the lightest-hearted of lunatics and caused great amusement for +many years. Whether we think of him in his relation to history or +psychology, dandiacal or dramatic art, he is a salient, pathetic +figure. That he is memorable for his defects, not for his qualities, I +know. But Romeo, in the tragedy of his wild love and frail intellect, +in the folly that stretched the corners of his `peculiar grin' and +shone in his diamonds and was emblazoned upon his tumbril, is more +suggestive than some sages. He was so fantastic an animal that +Oblivion were indeed amiss. If no more, he was a great Fool. In any +case, it would be fun to have seen him. + +London, 1896. + + +Diminuendo + +In the year of grace 1890, and in the beautiful autumn of that year, I +was a freshman at Oxford. I remember how my tutor asked me what +lectures I wished to attend, and how he laughed when I said that I +wished to attend the lectures of Mr. Walter Pater. Also I remember +how, one morning soon after, I went into Ryman's to order some foolish +engraving for my room, and there saw, peering into a portfolio, a +small, thick, rock-faced man, whose top-hat and gloves of bright dog- +skin struck one of the many discords in that little city of learning +or laughter. The serried bristles of his moustachio made for him a +false-military air. I think I nearly went down when they told me that +this was Pater. + +Not that even in those more decadent days of my childhood did I admire +the man as a stylist. Even then I was angry that he should treat +English as a dead language, bored by that sedulous ritual wherewith he +laid out every sentence as in a shroud--hanging, like a widower, long +over its marmoreal beauty or ever he could lay it at length in his +book, its sepulchre. From that laden air, the so cadaverous murmur of +that sanctuary, I would hook it at the beck of any jade. The writing +of Pater had never, indeed, appealed to me, all' aiei, having regard +to the couth solemnity of his mind, to his philosophy, his rare +erudition, tina pho^ta megan kai kalon edegmen [I received some great +and beautiful light]. And I suppose it was when at length I saw him +that I first knew him to be fallible. + +At school I had read Marius the Epicurean in bed and with a dark +lantern. Indeed, I regarded it mainly as a tale of adventure, quite as +fascinating as Midshipman Easy, and far less hard to understand, +because there were no nautical terms in it. Marryat, moreover, never +made me wish to run away to sea, whilst certainly Pater did make me +wish for more `colour' in the curriculum, for a renaissance of the +Farrar period, when there was always `a sullen spirit of revolt +against the authorities'; when lockers were always being broken into +and marks falsified, and small boys prevented from saying their +prayers, insomuch that they vowed they would no longer buy brandy for +their seniors. In some schools, I am told, the pretty old custom of +roasting a fourth-form boy, whole, upon Founder's Day still survives. +But in my school there was less sentiment. I ended by acquiescing in +the slow revolution of its wheel of work and play. I felt that at +Oxford, when I should be of age to matriculate, a `variegated dramatic +life' was waiting for me. I was not a little too sanguine, alas! + +How sad was my coming to the university! Where were those sweet +conditions I had pictured in my boyhood? Those antique contrasts? Did +I ride, one sunset, through fens on a palfrey, watching the gold +reflections on Magdalen Tower? Did I ride over Magdalen Bridge and +hear the consonance of evening-bells and cries from the river below? +Did I rein in to wonder at the raised gates of Queen's, the twisted +pillars of St. Mary's, the little shops, lighted with tapers? Did +bull-pups snarl at me, or dons, with bent backs, acknowledge my +salute? Any one who knows the place as it is, must see that such +questions are purely rhetorical. To him I need not explain the +disappointment that beset me when, after being whirled in a cab from +the station to a big hotel, I wandered out into the streets. On aurait +dit a bit of Manchester through which Apollo had once passed; for +here, among the hideous trains and the brand-new bricks--here, glared +at by the electric-lights that hung from poles, screamed at by boys +with the Echo and the Star--here, in a riot of vulgarity, were +remnants of beauty, as I discerned. There were only remnants. + +Soon also I found that the life of the place, like the place, had lost +its charm and its tradition. Gone were the contrasts that made it +wonderful. That feud between undergraduates and dons--latent, in the +old days, only at times when it behoved the two academic grades to +unite against the townspeople--was one of the absurdities of the past. +The townspeople now looked just like undergraduates and the dons just +like townspeople. So splendid was the train-service between Oxford and +London that, with hundreds of passengers daily, the one had become +little better than a suburb of the other. What more could +extensionists demand? As for me, I was disheartened. Bitter were the +comparisons I drew between my coming to Oxford and the coming of +Marius to Rome. Could it be that there was at length no beautiful +environment wherein a man might sound the harmonies of his soul? Had +civilisation made beauty, besides adventure, so rare? I wondered what +counsel Pater, insistent always upon contact with comely things, would +offer to one who could nowhere find them. I had been wondering that +very day when I went into Ryman's and saw him there. + +When the tumult of my disillusioning was past, my mind grew clearer. I +discerned that the scope of my quest for emotion must be narrowed. +That abandonment of one's self to life, that merging of one's soul in +bright waters, so often suggested in Pater's writing, were a counsel +impossible for to-day. The quest of emotions must be no less keen, +certainly, but the manner of it must be changed forthwith. To unswitch +myself from my surroundings, to guard my soul from contact with the +unlovely things that compassed it about, therein lay my hope. I must +approach the Benign Mother with great caution. And so, while most of +the freshmen `were doing her honour with wine and song and wreaths of +smoke, I stood aside, pondered. In such seclusion I passed my first +term-- ah, how often did I wonder whether I was not wasting my days, +and, wondering, abandon my meditations upon the right ordering of the +future! Thanks be to Athene, who threw her shadow over me in those +moments of weak folly! + +At the end of term I came to London. Around me seethed swirls, eddies, +torrents, violent cross-currents of human activity. What uproar! +Surely I could have no part in modern life. Yet, yet for a while it +was fascinating to watch the ways of its children. The prodigious life +of the Prince of Wales fascinated me above all; indeed, it still +fascinates me. What experience has been withheld from His Royal High- +ness? Was ever so supernal a type, as he, of mere Pleasure? How often +he has watched, at Newmarket, the scud-a-run of quivering homuncules +over the vert on horses, or, from some night-boat, the holocaust of +great wharves by the side of the Thames; raced through the blue +Solent; threaded les coulisses! He has danced in every palace of every +capital, played in every club. He has hunted eleplants through the +jungles of India, boar through the forests of Austria, pigs over the +plains of Massachusetts. From the Castle of Abergeldie he has led his +Princess into the frosty night, Highlanders lighting with torches the +path to the deer-larder, where lay the wild things that had fallen to +him on the crags. He has marched the Grenadiers to chapel through the +white streets of Windsor. He has ridden through Moscow, in strange +apparel, to kiss the catafalque of more than one Tzar. For him the +Rajahs of India have spoiled their temples, and Blondin has crossed +Niagara along the tight-rope, and the Giant Guard done drill beneath +the chandeliers of the Neue Schloss. Incline he to scandal, lawyers +are proud to whisper their secrets in his ear. Be he gallant, the +ladies are at his feet. Ennuye', all the wits from Bernal Osborne to +Arthur Roberts have jested for him. He has been `present always at the +focus where the greatest number of forces unite in their purest +energy,' for it is his presence that makes those forces unite. + +`Ennuye'?' I asked. Indeed he never is. How could he be when Pleasure +hangs constantly upon his arm! It is those others, overtaking her only +after arduous chase, breathless and footsore, who quickly sicken of +her company, and fall fainting at her feet. And for me, shod neither +with rank nor riches, what folly to join the chase! I began to see how +small a thing it were to sacrifice those external `experiences,' so +dear to the heart of Pater, by a rigid, complex civilisation made so +hard to gain. They gave nothing but lassitude to those who had gained +them through suffering. Even to the kings and princes, who so easily +gained them, what did they yield besides themselves? I do not suppose +that, if we were invited to give authenticated instances of +intelligence on the part of our royal pets, we could fill half a +column of the Spectator. In fact, their lives are so full they have no +time for thought, the highest energy of man. Now, it was to thought +that my life should be dedicated. Action, apart from its absorption of +time, would war otherwise against the pleasures of intellect, which, +for me, meant mainly the pleasures of imagination. It is only (this is +a platitude) the things one has not done, the faces or places one has +not seen, or seen but darkly, that have charm. It is only mystery-- +such mystery as besets the eyes of children--that makes things superb. +I thought of the voluptuaries I had known--they seemed so sad, so +ascetic almost, like poor pilgrims, raising their eyes never or ever +gazing at the moon of tarnished endeavour. I thought of the round, +insouciant faces of the monks at whose monastery I once broke bread, +and how their eyes sparkled when they asked me of the France that lay +around their walls. I thought, pardie, of the lurid verses written by +young men who, in real life, know no haunt more lurid than a literary +public-house. It was, for me, merely a problem how I could best avoid +`sensations,' `pulsations,' and `exquisite moments' that were not +purely intellectual. I would not attempt to combine both kinds, as +Pater seemed to fancy a man might. I would make myself master of some +small area of physical life, a life of quiet, monotonous simplicity, +exempt from all outer disturbance. I would shield my body from the +world that my mind might range over it, not hurt nor fettered. As yet, +however, I was in my first year at Oxford. There were many reasons +that I should stay there and take my degree, reasons that I did not +combat. Indeed, I was content to wait for my life. + +And now that I have made my adieux to the Benign Mother, I need wait +no longer. I have been casting my eye over the suburbs of London. I +have taken a most pleasant little villa in ----ham, and here I shall +make my home. Here there is no traffic, no harvest. Those of the +inhabitants who do anything go away each morning and do it elsewhere. +Here no vital forces unite. Nothing happens here. The days and the +months will pass by me, bringing their sure recurrence of quiet +events. In the spring-time I shall look out from my window and see the +laburnum flowering in the little front garden. In summer cool syrups +will come for me from the grocer's shop. Autumn will make the boughs +of my mountain-ash scarlet, and, later, the asbestos in my grate will +put forth its blossoms of flame. The infrequent cart of Buszard or +Mudie will pass my window at all seasons. Nor will this be all. I +shall have friends. Next door, there is a retired military man who has +offered, in a most neighbourly way, to lend me his copy of the Times. +On the other side of my house lives a charming family, who perhaps +will call on me, now and again. I have seen them sally forth, at +sundown, to catch the theatre-train; among them walked a young lady, +the charm of whose figure was ill concealed by the neat waterproof +that overspread her evening dress. Some day it may be...but I +anticipate. These things will be but the cosy accompaniment of my +days. For I shall contemplate the world. + +I shall look forth from my window, the laburnum and the mountain-ash +becoming mere silhouettes in the foreground of my vision. I shall look +forth and, in nay remoteness, appreciate the distant pageant of the +world. Humanity will range itself in the columns of my morning paper. +No pulse of life will escape me. The strife of politics, the +intriguing of courts, the wreck of great vessels, wars, dramas, +earthquakes, national griefs or joys; the strange sequels to divorces, +even, and the mysterious suicides of land-agents at Ipswich--in all +such phenomena I shall steep my exhaurient mind. Delicias quoque +bibliothecae experiar. Tragedy, comedy, chivalry, philosophy will be +mine. I shall listen to their music perpetually and their colours will +dance before my eyes. I shall soar from terraces of stone upon dragons +with shining wings and make war upon Olympus. From the peaks of hills +I shall swoop into recondite valleys and drive the pigmies, shrieking +little curses, to their caverns. It may be my whim to wander through +infinite parks where the deer lie under the clustering shadow of their +antlers and flee lightly over the grass; to whisper with white +prophets under the elms or bind a child with a daisy-chain or, with a +lady, thread my way through the acacias. I shall swim down rivers into +the sea and outstrip all ships. Unhindered I shall penetrate all +sanctuaries and snatch the secrets of every dim confessional. + +Yes! among books that charm, and give wings to the mind, will my days +be spent. I shall be ever absorbing the things great men have written; +with such experience I will charge my mind to the full. Nor will I try +to give anything in return. Once, in the delusion that Art, loving the +recluse, would make his life happy, I wrote a little for a yellow +quarterly and had that succe`s de fiasco which is always given to a +young writer of talent. But the stress of creation soon overwhelmed +me. Only Art with a capital H gives any consolations to her henchmen. +And I, who crave no knighthood, shall write no more. I shall write no +more. Already I feel myself to be a trifle outmoded. I belong to the +Beardsley period. Younger men, with months of activity before them, +with fresher schemes and notions, with newer enthusiasm, have pressed +forward since then. Cedo junioribus. Indeed, I stand aside with no +regret. For to be outmoded is to be a classic, if one has written +well. I have acceded to the hierarchy of good scribes and rather like +my niche. + +Chicago, 1895. + + +THE WORKS OF MAX BEERBOHM +A BIBLIOGRAPHY +BY +JOHN LANE + +PREFACE + +After some considerable experience in the field of bibliography I +cannot plead as palliation for any imperfections that may be +discovered in this, that it is the work of a 'prentice hand. Difficult +as I found my self-imposed task in the case of the Meredith and Hardy +bibliographies, here my labour has been still more herculean. + +It is impossible for one to compile a bibliography of a great man's +works without making it in some sense a biography--and indeed, in the +minds of not a few people, I have found a delusion that the one is +identical with the other. + +Mr. Beerbohm, as will be seen from the page headed Personalia, was +born in London, August 24, 1872. In searching the files of the Times I +naturally looked for other remarkable occurrences on that date. There +was only one worth recording. On the day upon which Mr. Beerbohm was +born, there appeared in the first column of the Times, this +announcement: + +`On [Wednesday], the 21st August, at Brighton, the wife of V.P. +Beardsley, Esq., of a son.' + +That the same week should have seen the advent in this world of two +such notable reformers as Aubrey Beardsley and Max Beerbohm is a +coincidence to which no antiquary has previously drawn attention. Is +it possible to over-estimate the influence of these two men in the art +and literature of the century? + +Like two other great essayists, Addison and Steele, Mr. Beerbohm was +educated at Charterhouse, and, like the latter, at Merton College, +Oxford. At Charterhouse he is still remembered for his Latin verses, +and for the superb gallery of portraits of the masters that he +completed during his five years' sojourn there. There are still extant +a few copies of his satire, in Latin elegiacs, called Beccerius, +privately printed at the suggestion of Mr. A. H. Tod, his form-master. +The writer has said `Let it lie,' however, and in such a matter the +author's wish should surely be regarded. I have myself been unable to +obtain a sight of a copy, but a more fortunate friend has furnished me +with a careful description of the opusculum, which I print in its +place in the bibliography. + +He matriculated at Merton in 1890, and immediately applied himself to +the task he had set before him, namely, a gallery of portraits of the +Dons. + +I am aware that he contributed to The Clown and other undergraduate +journals: also that he was a member of the Myrmidons' Club. It was +during his residence at Oxford that his famous treatise on Cosmetics +appeared in the pages of an important London Quarterly, sets of which +are still occasionally to be found in booksellers' catalogues at a +high price, though the American millionaire collector has made it one +of the rarest of finds. These were the days of his youth, the golden +age of `decadence.' For is not decadence merely a fin de sie`cle +literary term synonymous with the `sowing his wild oats' of our +grandfathers? a phrase still surviving in agricultural districts, +according to Mr. Andrew Lang, Mr. Edward Clodd, and other Folk- +Lorists. + +Mr. Beerbohm, of course, was not the only writer of his period who +appeared as the champion of artifice. A contemporary, one Richard Le +Gallienne, an eminent Pose Fancier, has committed himself somewhere to +the statement that `The bravest men that ever trod this planet have +worn corsets.' + +But what is so far away as yester-year? In 1894, Mr. Beerbohm, in +virtue of his `Defence of Cosmetics,' was but a pamphleteer. In 1895 +he was the famous historian, for in that year appeared the two +earliest of his profound historical studies, The History of the Year +1880, and his work on King George the Fourth. During the growth of +these masterpieces, his was a familiar figure in the British Museum +and the Record Office, and tradition asserts that the enlargement of +the latter building, which took place some time shortly afterwards, +was mainly owing to his exertions. + +Attended by his half-brother, Mr. Tree, Mrs. Tree and a numerous +theatrical suite, he sailed on the 16th of January 1895, for America, +with a view, it is said, to establishing a monarchy in that land. Mr. +Beerbohm does not appear to have succeeded in this project, though he +was interviewed in many of the newspapers of the States. He returned, +re infecta, to the land of his birth, three months later. + +After that he devoted himself to the completion of his life-work, here +set forth. + +The materials for this collection were drawn, with the courteous +acquiescence of various publishers, from The Pageant, The Savoy, The +Chap Book, and The Yellow Book. Internal evidence shows that Mr. +Beerbohm took fragments of his writings from Vanity (of New York) and +The Unicorn, that he might inlay them in the First Essay, of whose +scheme they are really a part. The Third Essay he re-wrote. The rest +he carefully revised, and to some he gave new names. + +Although it was my privilege on one occasion to meet Mr. Beerbohm--at +five-o'clock tea--when advancing years, powerless to rob him of one +shade of his wonderful urbanity, had nevertheless imprinted evidence +of their flight in the pathetic stoop, and the low melancholy voice of +one who, though resigned, yet yearns for the happier past, I feel that +too precise a description of his personal appearance would savour of +impertinence. The curious, on this point, I must refer to Mr. +Sickert's and Mr. Rothenstein's portraits, which I hear that Mr. +Lionel Cust is desirous of acquiring for the National Portrait +Gallery. + +It is needless to say that this bibliography has been a labour of +love, and that any further information readers may care to send me +will be gladly incorporated in future editions. + +I must here express my indebtedness to Dr. Garnett, C.B., Mr. Bernard +Quaritch, Mr. Clement K. Shorter, Mr. L. F. Austin, Mr. J. M. Bullock, +Mr. Lewis Hind, Mr. and Mrs. H. Beerbohm Tree, Mrs. Leverson, and Miss +Grace Conover, without whose assistance my work would have been far +more arduous. + +J.L. +THE ALBANY, May 1896. + + +THE BIBLIOGRAPHY +OF THE +WORKS OF MAX BEERBOHM + +1886. + +A Letter to the Editor. The Carthusian, Dec. 1886, signed Diogenes. +A bitter cry of complaint against the dulness of the school paper. +[Not reprinted. + + +[1890.] + +Beccerius | a Latin fragment | with explanatory notes by M.B. [N.D. +About twelve couplets printed on rough yellow paper, pp. 1 to 4, cr. +8vo, notes in double columns at foot of page. No publisher's or +printer's name. + + +1894. + +A Defence of Cosmetics. The Yellow Book, Vol. I., April 1894, pp. 65- +82. +Reprinted in `The Works' under the title of `The Pervasion of Rouge.' + +Lines suggested by Miss Cissy Loftus. The Sketch, May 9, 1894, p. 71. +A Caricature. [Not reprinted. + +Mr. Phil May and Mr. Aubrey Beardsley. The Pall Mall Budget, June 7, +1894. Two Caricatures. [Not reprinted. + +Two Eminent Statesmen (the Rt. Hon. A. J. Balfour and the Rt. Hon. Sir +Wm. Harcourt). Pall Mall Budget, July 5, 1894. Two Caricatures. [Not +reprinted. + +Two Eminent Actors (Mr. Beerbohm Tree and Mr. Edward Terry). Pall Mall +Budget, July 26, 1894. Two Caricatures. [Not reprinted. + +A Letter to the Editor. The Yellow Book, Vol. II., July 1894, pp. 281- +284. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Gus Elen (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Sept. 15, 1894. +[Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Oscar Wilde (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Sept. 22, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: R. G. Knowles, `There's a picture for you!' +(Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Sept. 29, 1894. [Not reprinted. + +M. Henri Rochefort and Mr. Arthur Roberts. Pall Mall Budget, Oct. 4, +1894. Two Caricatures. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Henry Arthur Jones (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Oct. 6, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Harry Furniss (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Oct. 13, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +A Caricature of George the Fourth. The Yellow Book, Vol. III., Oct. +1894. [Not reprinted. + +A Note on George the Fourth. The Yellow Book, Vol. III., Oct. 1894, +pp. 247-269. +Reprinted in `The Works' under the title of `King George the Fourth.' +A parody of this appeared under the title of `A Phalse Note on George +the Fourth,' in Punch, October 27, 1894, p. 204. + +Personal Remarks: Lord Lonsdale (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Oct 20, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: W. S. Gilbert (Caricature). Pick- Me-Up, Oct. 27, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: L. Raven Hill (Caricature). Pick- Me-Up, Nov. 3, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: The Marquis of Queensberry (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, +Nov. 17, 1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Ada Reeve (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Nov. 24, 1894. +[Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Seymour Hicks (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Dec. 1, +1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Corney Grain (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Dec. 8, 1894. +[Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Lord Randolph Churchill (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, +Dec. 22, 1894. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Dutch Daly (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Dec. 29, 1894. +[Not reprinted. + + +1895. + +Character Sketches of `The Chieftain' at the Savoy. +I. Mr. Courtice Pounds. +II. Mr. Scott Fishe. +III. Mr. Walter Passmore. +Pick-Me-Up, Jan. 5, 1895. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Henry Irving (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Jan. 5, 1895. + +`1880.' The Yellow Book, Vol. IV., Jan. 1895, pp. 275-283. Reprinted +in `The Works.' +A parody of this appeared, under the title of `1894,' by Max Mereboom, +in Punch, February 2, 1895, p. 58. + +Character Sketches of `An Ideal Husband' at the Haymarket. +I. Mr. Bishop. +II. Mr. Charles Hawtrey. +III. Miss Julia Neilson. +Pick-Me-Up, Jan. 19, 1895. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Harry Marks (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Jan. 19, 1895. +[Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: F. C. Burnand (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Jan. 26, +1895. [Not reprinted. + +Dandies and Dandies. Vanity (New York). Feb. 7, 1895. +The above has been reprinted with additions and alterations in `The +Works.' + +Personal Remarks: Arthur Pinero (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Feb. 9, +1895. [Not reprinted. + +Dandies and Dandies. Vanity (New York). Feb. 14, 1895. + +Dandies and Dandies. Vanity (New York). Feb. 21, 1895. +The above have been reprinted with additions and alterations in `The +Works.' + +Personal Remarks: The Rt. Hon. Sir William Vernon Harcourt +(Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, Feb. 23, 1895. [Not reprinted. + +Dandies and Dandies. Vanity (New York). Feb. 28, 1895. +The above has been reprinted with additions and alterations in `The +Works.' + +Personal Remarks: Earl Spencer (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, March 9, +1895. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Arthur Balfour (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, March 16, +1895. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: S. B. Bancroft (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, March 23, +1895. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Paderewski (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, March 30, 1895. +. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Colonel North (Caricature). Pick-Me-Up, April 6, +1895. [Not reprinted. + +Personal Remarks: Alfred de Rothschild. Pick-Me-Up, April 20, 189;. +[Not reprinted. + +Merton. (The Warden of Merton.) The Octopus, May 25, 1895. A +Caricature. [Not reprinted. + +Seen on the Towpath. The Octopus, May 29, 1895. A Caricature. [Not +reprinted. + +An Evening of Peculiar Delirium. The Sketch, July 24, 1895. [Not +reprinted. + +Notes in Foppery. The Unicorn, Sept. 18, 1895. + +Notes in Foppery. The Unicorn, Sept. 25, 1895. +The above have been reprinted with additions and alterations in `The +Works,' under the title of `Dandies and Dandies.' + +Press Notices on `Punch and Judy,' selected by Max Beerbohm. The +Sketch, Oct. 16, 1895 (p. 644). [Not reprinted. + +Be it Cosiness. The Pageant, Christmas, 1895, pp. 230-235. +Reprinted in `The Works' under the title of `Diminuendo.' +A parody of this appeared, under the title of `Be it Cosiness,' by Max +Mereboom, in Punch, Dec. 21, 1895, p. 297. + + +1896. + +A Caricature of Mr. Beerbohm Tree, a wood engraving after the drawing +by Max Beerbohm. The Savoy, No. 1, Jan. 1896, p. 125. [Not reprinted. + +A Good Prince. The Savoy, No. 1, Jan. 1896, pp. 45-7. [Reprinted in +`The Works.' + +De Natura Barbatulorum. The Chap-Book, Feb. 15, 1896, pp. 305-312. +The above has been reprinted with additions and alterations in `The +Works,' under the title of `Dandies and Dandies.' + +Poor Romeo! The Yellow Book, Vol. IX., April '96, pp. 169-181. +[Reprinted in `The Works.' + +A Caricature of Aubrey Beardsley. A wood engraving after the drawing +by Max Beerbohm. The Savoy, No. 2, April 1896, p. 161. + + +PERSONALIA. + +On the 24th instant, at 57 Palace Gardens Terrace, Kensington, the +wife of J. E. Beerbohm, Esq., of a son. The Times, Aug. 26, 1872. + +A few words with Mr. Max Beerbohm. (An interview by Ada Leverson.) The +Sketch, Jan. 2, 1895, p. 439. + +Max Beerbohm: an interview by Isabel Brooke Alder. Woman, April 29, +1896, pp. 8 & 9. + +On Mr. Beerbohm leaving Oxford in July 1895, he took up his residence +at 19 Hyde Park Place, formerly the residence of another well-known +historian--W. C. Kinglake. Woman, April 29, 1896, p. 8. + + +PORTRAITS OF MR. MAX BEERBOHM. + +Max Beerbohm in `Boyhood.' The Sketch, Jan. 2, 189;, p. 439. + +Max Beerbohm. Oxford Characters. Lithographs by Will Rothenstein. Part +6. +It is believed this artist did several pastels of Mr. Beerbohm. + +Portrait of Mr. Beerbohm standing before a picture of George the +Fourth, by Walter Sickert. + +Mr. Max Beerbohm. Woman, April 29, 1896, p. 8. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext The Works of Max Beerbohm, by Beerbohm + diff --git a/old/twomb10.zip b/old/twomb10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3469d7c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/twomb10.zip |