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diff --git a/old/50171-h/50171-h.htm b/old/50171-h/50171-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 44a841e..0000000 --- a/old/50171-h/50171-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1391 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Art of Aubrey Beardsley, by Aubrey Beardsley. - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -a:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } - -v:link {color: #800000; text-decoration: none; } - - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.cap {font-size: 0.75em; - font-weight: bold; - font-family: arial; - text-align: center;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: - 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50171 ***</div> - - - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<h1>THE ART OF</h1> - -<h1>AUBREY BEARDSLEY</h1> - -<h4>Introduction by ARTHUR SYMONS</h4> - -<h5>BONI AND LIVERIGHT, INC.</h5> - -<h5>PUBLISHERS — NEW YORK</h5> - -<h5>1918</h5> - -<hr class="full" /> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> -<a id="art001"></a> -<img src="images/art_001.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">Aubrey Beardsley</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="caption" style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 20%;">CONTENTS</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 20%;"><a href="#PREFACE">Preface</a></p> - -<p style="margin-left: 20%;"><a href="#AUBREY_BEARDSLEY">Aubrey Beardsley by Arthur Symons</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p style="margin-left: 20%;"> -<span class="caption" style="font-size: 0.8em;">ILLUSTRATIONS</span><br /> -<br /> -1. <a href="#art001">Portrait of Aubrey Beardsley.</a><br /> -2. <a href="#art002">The Litany of Mary Magdalen.</a><br /> -3. <a href="#art003">A Portrait of Aubrey Beardsley. By Himself.</a><br /> -4. <a href="#art004">Incipit Vita Nova.</a><br /> -5. <a href="#art005">Sandro Botticelli.</a><br /> -6. <a href="#art006">"Siegfried." From "The Studio."</a><br /> -7. <a href="#art007">Merlin. From "Le Morte d'Arthur."</a><br /> -8. <a href="#art008">Vignette. From "Le Morte d'Arthur"</a><br /> -9. <a href="#art009">La Beale Isoud at Joyous Gard. From "Le Morte d'Arthur."</a><br /> -10. <a href="#art010">How Queen Guenever Made Her a Nun. From "Le Morte d'Arthur."</a><br /> -11. <a href="#art011">"Of a Neophyte and How the Black Art Was Revealed Unto Him."</a><br /> -12. <a href="#art012">The Kiss of Judas.</a><br /> -13. <a href="#art013">A Suggested Reform in Ballet Costume.</a><br /> -14. <a href="#art014">Baron Verdigris.</a><br /> -15. <a href="#art015">The Woman in the Moon.</a><br /> -16. <a href="#art016">The Peacock Skirt.</a><br /> -17. <a href="#art017">The Black Cape.</a><br /> -18. <a href="#art018">The Platonic Lament.</a><br /> -19. <a href="#art019">Enter Herodias.</a><br /> -20. <a href="#art020">The Eyes of Herod.</a><br /> -21. <a href="#art021">The Stomach Dance.</a><br /> -22. <a href="#art022">The Toilette of Salomé.</a><br /> -23. <a href="#art023">The Dancer's Reward.</a><br /> -24. <a href="#art024">The Climax.</a><br /> -25. <a href="#art025">The Toilette of Salomé. First Drawing.</a><br /> -26. <a href="#art026">John and Salomé.</a><br /> -27. <a href="#art027">Salomé on Settee.</a><br /> -28. <a href="#art028">Design for Tailpiece.</a><br /> -29. <a href="#art029">Design for "Salomé." From "The Studio."</a><br /> -30. <a href="#art030">Design for the Cover of "The Yellow Book" Prospectus.</a><br /> -31. <a href="#art031">Night Piece.</a><br /> -32. <a href="#art032">Portrait of Mrs. Patrick Campbell.</a><br /> -33. <a href="#art033">Title Page Ornament for "The Yellow Book."</a><br /> -34. <a href="#art034">Comedy Ballet of Marionettes, I. From "The Yellow Book." Vol. II.</a><br /> -35. <a href="#art035">Comedy Ballet of Marionettes, II. From "The Yellow Book." Vol. II.</a><br /> -36. <a href="#art036">Comedy Ballet of Marionettes, III.</a><br /> -37. <a href="#art037">Garçons de Café. From "The Yellow Book." Vol. II.</a><br /> -38. <a href="#art038">The Slippers of Cinderella.</a><br /> -39. <a href="#art039">Portrait of Mantegna. From "The Yellow Book." Vol. III.</a><br /> -40. <a href="#art040">The Wagnerites. From "The Yellow Book." Vol. III.</a><br /> -41. <a href="#art041">La Dame Aux Camélias. From "The Yellow Book." Vol. III.</a><br /> -42. <a href="#art042">Madame Réjane.</a><br /> -43. <a href="#art043">Portrait of Balzac.</a><br /> -44. <a href="#art044">Design for Frontispiece to "An Evil Motherhood."</a><br /> -45. <a href="#art045">Design for Front Cover of "Pierrot."</a><br /> -46. <a href="#art046">Design for End Paper of "Pierrot."</a><br /> -47. <a href="#art047">Design for End Paper of "Pierrot."</a><br /> -48. <a href="#art048">Lysistrata.</a><br /> -49. <a href="#art049">An Athenian Woman.</a><br /> -50. <a href="#art050">Myrrhina.</a><br /> -51. <a href="#art051">The Dream.</a><br /> -52. <a href="#art052">The Baron's Prayer.</a><br /> -53. <a href="#art053">The Rape of the Lock.</a><br /> -54. <a href="#art054">Design for the Prospectus of "The Savoy."</a><br /> -55. <a href="#art055">Another Design for the Prospectus of "The Savoy."</a><br /> -56. <a href="#art056">Cover Design. From "The Savoy" No. 1.</a><br /> -57. <a href="#art057">Contents Page. From "The Savoy" No. 1.</a><br /> -58. <a href="#art058">The Abbé. From "Under the Hill."</a><br /> -59. <a href="#art059">The Fourth Tableau of "Das Rheingold."</a><br /> -60. <a href="#art060">Erda. To illustrate "Das Rheingold."</a><br /> -61. <a href="#art061">Flosshilde. To illustrate "Das Rheingold."</a><br /> -62. <a href="#art062">The Death of Pierrot.</a><br /> -63. <a href="#art063">Ave Atque Vale: Catullus, Carmen, Cl.</a><br /> -64. <a href="#art064">Aubrey Beardsley's Book-Plate.</a><br /> -</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>AUBREY BEARDSLEY</h3> - -<h4>AN ESSAY WITH A PREFACE</h4> - -<h5>BY</h5> - -<h4>ARTHUR SYMONS</h4> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</a></h5> - - -<p>It was in the summer of 1895 that I first met Aubrey Beardsley. A -publisher had asked me to form and edit a new kind of magazine, -which was to appeal to the public equally in its letterpress and its -illustrations: need I say that I am defining the "Savoy"? It was, -I admit, to have been something of a rival to the "Yellow Book," -which had by that time ceased to mark a movement, and had come to be -little more than a publisher's magazine. I forget exactly when the -expulsion of Beardsley from the "Yellow Book" had occurred; it had -been sufficiently recent, at all events, to make Beardsley singularly -ready to fall in with my project when I went to him and asked him to -devote himself to illustrating my quarterly. He was supposed, just -then, to be dying; and as I entered the room, and saw him lying out -on a couch, horribly white, I wondered if I had come too late. He was -full of ideas, full of enthusiasm, and I think it was then that he -suggested the name "Savoy," finally adopted after endless changes and -uncertainties.</p> - -<p>A little later we met again at Dieppe, where for a month I saw him -daily. It was at Dieppe that the "Savoy" was really planned, and it -was in the cafe which Mr. Sickert has so often painted that I wrote -the slightly pettish and defiant "Editorial Note," which made so many -enemies for the first number. Dieppe just then was a meeting-place for -the younger generation; some of us spent the whole summer there, lazily -but profitably; others came and went. Beardsley at that time imagined -himself to be unable to draw anywhere but in London. He made one or -two faint attempts, and even prepared a canvas for a picture which was -never painted, in the hospitable studio in which M. Jacques Blanche -painted the admirable portrait reproduced in the frontispiece. But he -found many subjects, some of which he afterwards worked out, in the -expressive opportunities of the Casino and the beach, lie never walked; -I never saw him look at the sea; but at night he was almost always to -be seen watching the gamblers at <i>petits chevaux</i>, studying them with a -sort of hypnotised attention for that picture of "<i>The Little Horses</i>," -which was never done. He liked the large, deserted rooms, at hours when -no one was there; the sense of frivolous things caught at a moment of -suspended life, <i>en deshabillé</i>. He would glance occasionally, but -with more impatience, at the dances, especially the children's dances, -in the concert room; but he rarely missed a concert, and would glide -in every afternoon, and sit on the high benches at the side, always -carrying his large, gilt-leather portfolio with the magnificent, old, -red-lined folio paper, which he would often open, to write some lines -in pencil. He was at work then, with an almost pathetic tenacity, at -his story, never to be finished, the story which never could have been -finished, "<i>Under the Hill</i>," a new version, a parody (like Laforgue's -parodies, but how unlike them, or anything!) of the story of Venus -and Tannhäuser. Most of it was done at these concerts, and in the -little, close writing-room, where visitors sat writing letters. The -fragment published in the first two numbers of the "<i>Savoy</i>" had passed -through many stages before it found its way there, and would have -passed through more if it had ever been carried further. Tannhäuser, -not quite willingly, had put on Abbé's disguise, and there were other -unwilling disguises in those brilliant, disconnected, fantastic pages, -in which every sentence was meditated over, written for its own sake, -and left to find its way in its own paragraph. It could never have -been finished, for it had never really been begun; but what undoubted, -singular, literary ability there is in it, all the same!</p> - -<p>I think Beardsley would rather have been a great writer than a great -artist; and I remember, on one occasion, when he had to fill up a -form of admission to some library to which I was introducing him, his -insistence on describing himself as "man of letters." At one time -he was going to write an essay on "<i>Les Liaisons Dangereuses</i>," at -another he had planned a book on Rousseau. But his plans for writing -changed even more quickly than his plans for doing drawings, and with -less profitable results in the meantime. He has left no prose except -that fragment of a story; and in verse only the three pieces published -in the "<i>Savoy</i>." Here, too, he was terribly anxious to excel; and his -patience over a medium so unfamiliar, and hence so difficult, to him -as verse, was infinite. We spent two whole days on the grassy ramparts -of the old castle at Arques-la-Bataille, near Dieppe; I working at -something or other in one part, he working at "<i>The Three Musicians</i>" -in another. The eight stanzas of that amusing piece of verse are -really, in their own way, a <i>tour de force</i>; by sheer power of will, by -deliberately saying to himself, "I will write a poem," and by working -with such strenuous application that at last a certain result, the kind -of result he had willed, did really come about, he succeeded in doing -what he had certainly no natural aptitude for doing. How far was that -more genuine aspect of his genius also an "infinite capacity for taking -pains?"</p> - -<p>The republication by Mr. Lane, the publisher of the "<i>Yellow Book</i>," -of Beardsley's contributions in prose and verse to the "<i>Savoy</i>," its -"rival," as Mr. Lane correctly calls it, with the illustrations which -there accompanied them, reopens a little, busy chapter in contemporary -history. It is the history of yesterday, and it seems already at this -distance of half a century. Then, what brave petulant outbursts of -poets and artists, what comic rivalries and reluctances of publishers, -what droll conflicts of art and morality, what thunders of the trumpets -of the press! The press is silent now, or admiring; the publishers have -changed places, and all rivalries are handsomely buried, with laudatory -inscriptions on their tombstones. The situation has its irony, which -would have appealed most to the actor most conspicuously absent from -the scene.</p> - -<p>Beardsley was very anxious to be a writer, and, though in his verse -there was no merit except that of a thing done to order, to one's -own order, and done without a flaw in the process, there was, in his -prose, a much finer quality, and his fragment of an unachieved and -unplanned romance has a savour of its own. It is the work, not of a -craftsman, but of an amateur, and in this it may be compared with the -prose of Whistler, so great an artist in his own art and so brilliant -an amateur in the art of literature. Beardsley too was something of a -wit, and in his prose one sees hard intellect, untinged with sentiment, -employed on the work of fancy. He wrote and he saw, unimaginatively, -and without passion, but with a fierce sensitive precision; and he saw -by preference things elaborately perverse, full of fantastic detail, -unlikely and possible things, brought together from the four corners -of the universe. All those descriptions in "<i>Under the Hill</i>" are -the equivalent of his drawings, and they are of especial interest in -showing how definitely he saw things, and with what calm minuteness -he could translate what seemed a feverish drawing into oddly rational -words. Listen, for instance, to this garden-picture: "In the middle -was a huge bronze fountain with three basins. From the first rose a -many-breasted dragon and four little loves mounted upon swans, and -each love was furnished with a bow and arrow. Two of them that faced -the monster seemed to recoil in fear, two that were behind made bold -enough to aim their shafts at him. From the verge of the second sprang -a circle of slim golden columns that supported silver doves with -tails and wings spread out. The third, held by a group of grotesquely -attenuated satyrs, is centred with a thin pipe hung with masks and -roses and capped with children's heads." The picture was never drawn, -but does it want more than the drawing?</p> - -<p>The prose of "<i>Under the Hill</i>" does not arrive at being really good -prose, but it has felicities that astonish, those felicities by which -the amateur astonishes the craftsman. The imaginary dedication is the -best, the most sustained, piece of writing in it, but there is wit -everywhere, subtly intermingled with fancy, and there are touches of -color such as this: "Huge moths, so richly winged that they must have -banqueted upon tapestries and royal stuffs, slept on the pillars that -flanked either side of the gateway, and the eyes of all the moths -remained open and were burning and bursting with a mesh of veins." -Here and there is a thought or a mental sensation like that of "the -irritation of loveliness that can never be entirely comprehended, or -ever enjoyed to the utmost." There are many affectations, some copied -from Oscar Wilde, others personal enough, such as the use of French -words instead of English ones: "chevelure" for hair, and "pantoufles" -for slippers. I do not think that Beardsley finally found a place for -the word which he had adapted from the French, "papillions," instead of -"papillons" or butterflies; it would have come amusingly, and it was -one of his pet words. But his whole conception of writing was that of a -game with words; some obsolete game with a quaint name, like that other -favorite word of his, "spellicans," for which he did find a place in -the story.</p> - -<p>Taken literally, this fragment is hardly more than a piece of nonsense, -and was hardly meant to be more than that. Yet, beyond the curiosity -and ingenuity of the writing, how much there is of real skill in the -evocation of a certain impossible but quite credible atmosphere! Its -icy artificiality is indeed one of its qualities, and produces, by -mere negation, an emotional effect. Beardsley did not believe in his -own enchantments, was never haunted by his own terrors, and, in his -queer sympathy and familiarity with evil, had none of the ardors of a -lost soul. In the place of Faust he would have kept the devil at his -due distance by a polite incredulity, openly expressed, as to the very -existence of his interlocutor.</p> - -<p>It was on the balcony of the Hotel Henri IV, at Arques, one of those -September evenings, that I had the only quite serious, almost solemn, -conversation I ever had with Beardsley. Not long before we had gone -together to visit Alexandre Dumas fils at Puy, and it was from -talking of that thoughtful, but entirely, Parisian writer, and his -touching, in its unreal way so real, "Dame aux Camélias" (the novel, -not the play), which Beardsley admired so much, that we passed into -an unexpectedly intimate mood of speculation. Those stars up yonder, -whether they were really the imprisoning worlds of other creatures like -ourselves; the strange ways by which the soul might have come and must -certainly go; death, and the future: it was such things that I found -him speaking, for once without mockery. And he told me then a singular -dream or vision which he had had when a child, waking up at night in -the moonlight and seeing a great crucifix, with a bleeding Christ, -falling off the wall, where certainly there was not, and had never -been, any crucifix. It is only by remembering that one conversation, -that vision, the tone of awe with which he told it, that I can, with a -great effort, imagine to myself the Beardsley whom I knew with his so -positive intelligence, his imaginative sight of the very spirit of man -as a thing of definite outline, transformed finally into the Beardsley -who died in the peace of the last sacraments of the Church, holding the -rosary between his fingers.</p> - -<p>And yet, if you read carefully the book of letters to an unnamed -friend, which has been published six years after his death, it will -be seen that here too, as always, we are in the presence of a real -thing. In these naked letters we see a man die. And the man dies inch -by inch, like one who slips inch by inch over a precipice, and knows -that the grasses at which his fingers tear, clutching their feeble -roots, are but delaying him for so many instants, and that he must -soon fall. We see a fine, clear-sighted intellect set on one problem: -how to get well: then, how to get a little better; and then, how not -to get worse. He records the weather of each day, and each symptom of -his disease; with a desperate calmness, which but rarely deserts or -betrays him. To-day he feels better and can read Laclos; to-morrow he -is not so well, and he must hear no music. He has pious books and pious -friends for the days when he is driven back upon himself, and must turn -aside his attention from suffering which brings despair. Nothing exists -any longer, outside himself; and there may be safety somewhere, in a -"preservative girdle" or in a friend's prayer. He asks for both. Both -are to keep him alive. He meets at Mentone someone who seems worse than -himself, and who yet "lives on and does things. My spirits have gone -up immensely since I have known him." A change of sky, the recurrence -of a symptom: "to-day, alas, there is a downpour and I am miserably -depressed." He reads S. Alphonsus Liguori, and it is "mere physical -exhaustion more than hardness of heart that leaves me so apathetic -and uninterested." He clings to religion as to his friend, thinking -that it may help him to keep himself in life. He trains himself to be -gentle, to hope little, to attack the sources of health stealthily. A -"wonderful stretch of good health," a few whole days of it, makes him -"tremble at moments." "Don't think me foolish to haggle about a few -months," he writes, when he is hoping, all the time, that "the end is -less near than it seems." He is received into the Church, makes his -first confession, makes his first communion. It seems to him that each -is a new clutch upon the roots of the grasses.</p> - -<p>The whole book is a study in fear, and by its side everything else that -has been done, imaginatively or directly, on that fierce passion, seems -mere oratory or a talking beside the question. Here Beardsley is, as -he is in his drawings, close, absorbed, limited, and unflinching. That -he should be so honest with his fear; that he should sit down before -its face and study it feature by feature; that he should never turn -aside his eyes for more than an instant, make no attempt to escape, but -sit at home with it, travel with it, see it in his mirror, taste it -with the sacrament: that is the marvellous thing, and the sign of his -fundamental sincerity in life and art.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="AUBREY_BEARDSLEY" id="AUBREY_BEARDSLEY">AUBREY BEARDSLEY</a></h5> - - -<p><i>Anima naturaliter pagana</i>, Aubrey Beardsley ended a long career, -at the age of twenty-six, in the arms of the Church. No artist of -our time, none certainly whose work has been in black and white, has -reached a more universal, or a more contested fame; none has formed -himself, out of such alien elements, a more personal originality of -manner; none has had so wide an influence on contemporary art. He -had the fatal speed of those who are to die young; that disquieting -completeness and extent of knowledge, that absorption of a lifetime -in an hour, which we find in those who hasten to have done their -work before noon, knowing that they will not see the evening. He had -played the piano in drawing-rooms as an infant prodigy, before, I -suppose, he had ever drawn a line: famous at twenty as a draughtsman, -he found time, in those incredibly busy years which remained to him, -to deliberately train himself into a writer of prose which was, in -its way, as original as his draughtsmanship, and into a writer of -verse which had at least ingenious and original moments. He seemed -to have read everything, and had his preferences as adroitly in -order, as wittily in evidence, as almost any man of letters; indeed, -he seemed to know more, and was a sounder critic, of books than of -pictures; with perhaps a deeper feeling for music than for either. His -conversation had a peculiar kind of brilliance different in order but -scarcely inferior in quality to that of any other contemporary master -of that art; a salt, whimsical dogmatism, equally full of convinced -egoism and of imperturbable keen-sightedness. Generally choosing to -be paradoxical; and vehement on behalf of any enthusiasm of the mind, -he was the dupe of none of his own statements, or indeed of his own -enthusiasms, and, really, very coldly impartial. I scarcely except -even his own judgment of himself in spite of his petulant, amusing -self-assertion, so full of the childishness of genius. He thought, -and was right in thinking, very highly of himself; he admired himself -enormously; but his intellect would never allow itself to be deceived -even about his own accomplishments.</p> - -<p>This clear, unemotional intellect, emotional only in the perhaps -highest sense, where emotion almost ceases to be recognizable, in the -abstract, for ideas, for lines, left him with all his interests in -life, with all his sociability, of a sort essentially very lonely. Many -people were devoted to him, but he had, I think, scarcely a friend, -in the fullest sense of the word; and I doubt if there were more than -one or two people for whom he felt any real affection. In spite of -constant ill-health he had am astonishing tranquility of nerves; and -it was doubtless that rare quality which kept him, after all, alive so -long. How far he had deliberately acquired command over his nerves and -his emotions, as he deliberately acquired command over brain and hand, -I do not know. But there it certainly was, one of the bewildering -characteristics of so contradictory a temperament.</p> - -<p>One of his poses, as people say, one of those things, that is, in -which he was most sincere, was his care in outwardly conforming to the -conventions which make for elegance and restraint; his necessity of -dressing well, of showing no sign of the professional artist. He had a -great contempt for, what seemed to inferior craftsmen, inspiration, for -what I have elsewhere called the plenary inspiration of first thoughts; -and he hated the outward and visible signs of an inward yeastiness and -incoherency. It amused him to denounce everything, certainly, which -Baudelaire would have denounced; and, along with some mere <i>gaminerie</i>, -there was a very serious and adequate theory of art at the back of all -his destructive criticisms. It was a profound thing which he said to -a friend of mine who asked him whether he ever saw visions: "No," he -replied, "I do not allow myself to see them except on paper." All his -art is in that phrase.</p> - -<p>And he attained, to the full, one certainly of his many desires, and -that one, perhaps, of which he was most keenly or most continuously -conscious: contemporary fame of a popular singer or a professional -beauty, the fame of Yvette Guilbert or of Cléo de Mérode. And there was -logic in his insistence on this point, in his eagerness after immediate -and clamorous success. Others might have waited; he knew that he had -not the time to wait. After all, posthumous fame is not a very cheering -prospect to look forward to, on the part of those who have worked -without recompense, if the pleasure or the relief of work is not enough -in itself. Every artist has his own secret, beyond the obvious one, of -why he works, it is generally some unhappiness, some dissatisfaction -with the things about one, some too desperate or too contemptuous sense -of the meaning of existence. At one period of his life a man works -at his art to please a woman; then he works because he is tired of -pleasing her. Work for the work's sake it always must be, in a profound -sense; and, with Beardsley, not less certainly than with Blake or with -Rosetti. But that other, that accidental, significant motive, was, with -Beardsley, the desire to fill his few working years with the immediate -echo of a great notoriety.</p> - -<p>Like most artists who have thought much of popularity he had an immense -contempt for the public; and the desire to kick that public into -admiration, and then to kick it for admiring the wrong thing or not -knowing why it was admiring, led him into many of his most outrageous -practical jokes of the pen. He was partly right and partly wrong, for -he was indiscriminate; and to be indiscriminate is always to be partly -right and partly wrong. The wish to <i>épater le bourgeois</i> is a natural -one, and, though a little beside the question, does not necessarily -lead one astray. The general public, of course, does not in the least -know why it admires the right thing to-day though it admired the wrong -thing yesterday. But there is such a thing as denying your Master while -you are rebuking a servant-girl. Beardsley was without the very sense -of respect; it was one of his limitations.</p> - -<p>And this limitation was an unfortunate one, for it limited his -ambition. With the power of creating beauty, which should be pure -beauty, he turned aside, only too often, to that lower kind of beauty -which is the mere beauty of technique in a composition otherwise -meaningless, trivial, or grotesque. Saying to himself, "I can do what -I like; there is nothing I could not do if I chose to, if I chose to -take the trouble; but why should I offer hard gold when an I.O.U. will -be just the same? I can pay up whenever the money is really wanted," he -allowed himself to be content with what he knew would startle, doing -it with infinite pains, to his own mind conscientiously, but doing it -with that lack of reverence for great work which is one of the most -sterlizing characteristics of the present day.</p> - -<p>The epithet <i>fin de siècle</i> has been given, somewhat loosely, to a -great deal of modern French art, and to art which, in one way or -another, seems to attach itself to contemporary France. Out of the -great art of Manet, the serious art of Degas, the exquisite art of -Whistler, all, in such different ways, so modern, there has come into -existence a new, very modern, very far from great or serious or really -exquisite kind of art, which has expressed itself largely in the -"Courrier Français," the "Gil Blas Illustré," and the posters. All this -art may be said to be what the quite new art of the poster certainly -is, art meant for the street, for people who are walking fast. It -comes into competition with the newspapers, with the music-halls; half -contemptuously, it popularises itself; and, with real qualities and a -real measure of good intention, finds itself forced to seek for sharp, -sudden, arresting means of expression. Instead of seeking pure beauty, -the seriousness and self-absorption of great art, it takes, wilfully -and for effect, that beauty which is least evident, indeed least -genuine; nearest to ugliness in the grotesque, nearest to triviality -in a certain elegant daintiness, nearest also to brutality and the -spectacular vices. Art is not sought for its own sake, but the manual -craftsman perfects himself to express a fanciful, ingenious, elaborate, -somewhat tricky way of seeing things, which he has deliberately -adopted. It finds its own in the eighteenth century, so that Willette -becomes a kind of petty, witty Watteau of Montmartre; it parodies -the art of stained glass, with Grasset and his followers; it juggles -with iron bars and masses of shadow, like Lautrec. And, in its direct -assault on the nerves, it pushes naughtiness to obscenity, deforms -observation into caricature, dexterity of line and handling being -cultivated as one cultivates a particular, deadly <i>bottle</i> in fencing.</p> - -<p>And this art, this art of the day and hour, competes not merely with -the appeal and the popularity of the theatrical spectacle, but directly -with theatrical methods, the methods of stage illusion. The art of the -ballet counts for much, in the evolution of many favorite effects of -contemporary drawing, and not merely because Degas has drawn dancers, -with his reserved, essentially classical mastery of form. By its -rapidity of flight within bounds, by its bird-like and flower-like -caprices of color and motion, by that appeal to the imagination which -comes from its silence (to which music is but like an accompanying -shadow, so closely, so discreetly, does it follow the feet of the -dancers), by its appeal to the eyes and to the senses, its adorable -artificiality, the ballet has tempted almost every draughtsman, as -the interiors of music-halls have also been singularly tempting, with -their extraordinary tricks of light, their suddenness of gesture, their -triumphant tinsel, their fantastic humanity. And pantomime, too, in the -French and correct, rather than in the English and incorrect, sense -of that word, has had its significant influence. In those pathetic -gaieties of Willette, in the windy laughter of the frivolities of -Chéret, it is the masquerade, the English clown or acrobat seen at the -Folies-Bergère, painted people mimicking puppets, who have begotten -this masquerading humanity of posters and illustrated papers. And the -point of view is the point of view of Pierrot—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"le subtil génie</span><br /> -De sa malice infinie<br /> -De poète-grimacier"—<br /> -<br /> -Verlaine's <i>Pierrot gamin</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Pierrot is one of the types we live, or of the moment, perhaps, out -of which we are just passing. Pierrot is passionate; but he does not -believe in great passions. He feels himself to be sickening with a -fever, or else perilously convalescent; for love is a disease, which he -is too weak to resist or endure. He has worn his heart on his sleeve -so long, that it has hardened in the cold air. He knows that his face -is powdered, and, if he sobs, it is without tears; and it is hard to -distinguish, under the chalk, if the grimace which twists his mouth -awry is more laughter or mockery. He knows that he is condemned to be -always in public, that emotion would be supremely out of keeping with -his costume, that he must remember to be fantastic if he would not be -merely ridiculous. And so he becomes exquisitely false, dreading above -all things that "one touch of nature" which would ruffle his disguise, -and leave him defenceless. Simplicity, in him, being the most laughable -thing in the world, he becomes learned, perverse, intellectualising his -pleasures, brutalising his intellect; his mournful contemplation of -things becoming a kind of grotesque joy, which he expresses in the only -symbols at his command, tracing his Giotto's O with the elegance of his -pirouette.</p> - -<p>And Beardsley, with almost more than the Parisian's deference to -Paris, and to the moment, was, more than any Parisian, this <i>Pierrot -gamin</i>. He was more than that, but he was that: to be that was part -of what he learnt from France. It helped him to the pose which helped -him to reveal himself: as Burne-Jones had helped him when he did -the illustrations to the "Morte d'Arthur," (Ill. 7-10) as Japanese -art helped him to free himself from that influence, as Eisen and -Saint-Aubin showed him the way to the "Rape of the Lock." (Ill. 53) -He had that originality which surrenders to every influence, yet -surrenders to absorb, not to be absorbed; that originality which, -constantly shifting, is true always to its centre. Whether he learnt -from M. Grasset or from Mr. Ricketts, from an 1830 fashion-plate, -or from an engraved plate by Hogarth, whether the scenery of -Arques-la-Bataille composed itself into a pattern in his mind, or, -in the Casino at Dieppe, he made a note of the design of a looped-up -window-blind, he was always drawing to himself, out of the order of -art or the confusion of natural things, the thing he wanted, the thing -he could make his own. And he found, in the French art of the moment, -a joyous sadness, the service to God of Mephistopheles, which his own -temperament and circumstances were waiting to suggest to him—.</p> - -<p>"In more ways than one do men sacrifice to the rebellious angels," says -St. Augustine; and Beardsley's sacrifice, together with that of all -great decadent art, the art of Rops or the art of Baudelaire, is really -a sacrifice to the eternal beauty, and only seemingly to the powers of -evil. And here let me say that I have no concern with what neither he -nor I could have had absolute knowledge of, his own intention in his -work. A man's intention, it must be remembered, from the very fact that -it is conscious, is much less intimately himself than the sentiment -which his work conveys to me. So large is the sub-conscious element in -all artistic creation, that I should have doubted whether Beardsley -himself knew what he intended to do, in this or that really significant -drawing. Admitting that he could tell exactly what he had intended, I -should be quite prepared to show that he had really done the very -contrary.</p> - -<p>Thus when I say he was a profoundly spiritual artist, though seeming to -care chiefly for the manual part of his work; that he expresses evil -with an intensity which lifted it into a region almost of asceticism, -though attempting, not seldom, little more than a joke or a caprice in -line: and that he was above all, though almost against his own will, -a satirist who has seen the ideal; I am putting forward no paradox, -nothing really contradictory, but a simple analysis of the work as it -exists.</p> - -<p>At times he attains pure beauty, has the unimpaired vision; in the -best of the "Salomé" (Ills. 15-29) designs here and there afterwards. -From the first it is a diabolic beauty, but it is not yet divided -against itself. The consciousness of sin is always there, but it is -sin first transfigured by beauty, and then disclosed by beauty; sin, -conscious of itself, of its inability to escape itself, and showing in -its ugliness the law it has broken. His world is a world of phantoms, -in which the desire of the perfecting of mortal sensations, a desire -of infinity, has over-passed mortal limits, and poised them, so faint, -so quivering, so passionate for flight, in a hopeless and strenuous -immobility. They have the sensitiveness of the spirit, and that bodily -sensitiveness which wastes their veins and imprisons them in the -attitude of their luxurious meditation. They are too thoughtful to -be ever really simple, or really absorbed by either flesh or spirit. -They have nothing of what is "healthy" or merely "animal" in their -downward course towards repentance; no overwhelming passion hurries -them beyond themselves; they do not capitulate to an open assault of -the enemy of souls. It is the soul in them that sins, sorrowfully, -without reluctance, inevitably. Their bodies are faint and eager with -wantonness; they desire more pleasure than there is in the world, -fiercer and more exquisite pains, a more intolerable suspense. They -have put off the common burdens of humanity, and put on that loneliness -which is the rest of saints and the unrest of those who have sinned -with the intellect. They are a little lower than the angels, and they -walk between these and the fallen angels, without part or lot in the -world.</p> - -<p>Here, then, we have a sort of abstract spiritual corruption, revealed -in beautiful form; sin transfigured by beauty. And here, even if we -go no further, is an art intensely spiritual, an art in which evil -purifies itself by its own intensity, and the beauty which transfigures -it. The one thing in the world which is without hope is that mediocrity -which is the sluggish content of inert matter. Better be vividly -awake to evil than, in mere somnolence, close the very issues and -approaches of good and evil. For evil itself, carried to the point of -a perverse ecstasy, becomes a kind of good, by means of that energy -which, otherwise directed, is virtue; and which can never, no matter -how its course may be changed, fail to retain something of its original -efficacy. The devil is nearer to God, by the whole height from which -he fell, than the average man who has not recognised his own need to -rejoice or to repent. And so a profound spiritual corruption, instead -of being a more "immortal" thing than the gross and pestiferous -humanity of Hogarth or of Rowlandson, is more nearly, in the final -and abstract sense, moral, for it is the triumph of the spirit over -the flesh, to no matter what end. It is a form of divine possession, -by which the inactive and materialising soul is set in fiery motion, -lured from the ground, into at least a certain high liberty. And -so we find evil justified of itself, and an art consecrated to the -revelation of evil equally justified; its final justification being -that declared by Plotinus, in his treatise "On the Nature of Good -and Evil." "But evil is permitted to remain by itself alone on account -of the superior power and nature of good; because it appears from -necessity everywhere comprehended and bound, in beautiful bands, like -men fettered with golden chains, lest it should be produced openly to -the views of divinity, or lest mankind should always behold its horrid -shape when perfectly naked; and such is the supervening power of good, -that whenever a glimpse of perfect evil is obtained we are immediately -recalled to the memory of good by the image of the beautiful with which -evil is invested."</p> - -<p>In those drawings of Beardsley which are grotesque rather than -beautiful, in which now all the beauty takes refuge, is itself a moral -judgment. Look at that drawing called "The Scarlet Pastorale."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> In -front, a bloated harlequin struts close to the footlights, outside the -play, on which he turns his back; beyond, sacramental candles have been -lighted, and are guttering down in solitude, under an unseen wind. And -between, on the sheer darkness of the stage, a bald and plumed Pierrot, -holding in his vast, collapsing paunch with a mere rope of roses, shows -the cloven foot, while Pierrette points at him in screaming horror, -and the fat dancer turns on her toes indifferently. Need we go further -to show how much more than Gautier's meaning lies in the old paradox -of "Mademoiselle de Maupin," that "perfection of line is virtue?" That -line which rounds the deformity of the cloven-footed sin, the line -itself, is at once the revelation and the condemnation of vice, for it -is part of that artistic logic which is morality.</p> - -<p>Beardsley is the satirist of an age without convictions, and he can -but paint hell as Baudelaire did, without pointing for contrast to any -contemporary paradise. He employs the same rhetoric as Baudelaire, -a method of emphasis which it is uncritical to think insecure. In -that terrible annunciation of evil which he called "The Mysterious -Rose-Garden," the lantern-bearing angel with winged sandals whispers, -from among the falling roses, tidings of more than "pleasant sins." -The leering dwarfs, the "monkeys," by which the mystics symbolised -the earthlier vices; those immense bodies swollen with the lees of -pleasure, and those cloaked and masked desires shuddering in gardens -and smiling ambiguously at interminable toilets; are part of a -symbolism which loses nothing by lack of emphasis. And the peculiar -efficacy of this satire is that it is so much the satire of desire -returning upon itself, the mockery of desire enjoyed, the mockery of -desire denied. It is because he loves beauty that beauty's degradation -obsesses him; it is because he is supremely conscious of virtue that -vice has power to lay hold upon him. And, unlike those other acceptable -satirists of our day, with whom satire exhausts itself in the rebuke -of a drunkard leaning against a lamp-post, or a lady paying the wrong -compliment in a drawing-room, he is the satirist of essential things; -it is always the soul, and not the body's discontent only, which cries -out of these insatiable eyes, that have looked on all their lusts, -and out of these bitter mouths, that have eaten the dust of all their -sweetness, and out of these hands, that have laboured delicately for -nothing, and out of these feet, that have run after vanities. They -are so sorrowful because they have seen beauty, and because they have -departed from the line of beauty.</p> - -<p>And after all, the secret of Beardsley is there; in the line itself -rather than in anything, intellectually realised, which the line is -intended to express. With Beardsley everything was a question of form: -his interest in his work began when the paper was before him and the -pen in his hand. And so, in one sense, he may be said never to have -known what he wanted to do, while, in another, he knew very precisely -indeed. He was ready to do, within certain limits, almost anything you -suggested to him; as, when left to himself, he was content to follow -the caprice of the moment. What he was sure of was his power of doing -exactly what he proposed to himself to do: the thing itself might be -"Salomé" or "Belinda," "Ali Baba" or "Réjane," the "Morte d'Arthur" or -the "Rheingold" or the "Liaisons Dangereuses;" the design might be for -an edition of a classic or for the cover of a catalogue of second-hand -books. And the design might seem to have no relation with the title of -its subject, and, indeed, might have none: its relation was of line to -line within the limits of its own border, and to nothing else in the -world. Thus he could change his whole manner of working five or six -times over in the course of as many years, seem to employ himself much -of the time on trivial subjects, and yet retain, almost unimpaired, -an originality which consisted in the extreme beauty and the absolute -certainty of design.</p> - -<p>It was a common error, at one time, to say that Beardsley could not -draw. He certainly did not draw the human body with any attempt at -rendering its own lines, taken by themselves; indeed, one of his -latest drawings, an initial letter to "Volpone," is almost the first -in which he has drawn a nude figure realistically. But he could draw, -with extraordinary skill, in what is after all the essential way: he -could make a line do what he wanted it to do, express the conception -of form which it was his intention to express; and this is what the -conventional draughtsman, Bouguereau, for instance, cannot do. The -conventional draughtsman, any Academy student, will draw a line which -shows quite accurately the curve of a human body, but all his science -of drawing will not make you feel that line, will not make that line -pathetic, as in the little, drooping body which a satyr and a Pierrot -are laying in a puff-powder coffin, in the tail-piece to "Salomé." -(Ill. 28.)</p> - -<p>And then, it must never be forgotten, Beardsley was a decorative -artist, and not anything else. From almost the very first he accepted -convention; he set himself to see things as pattern. Taking freely -all that the Japanese could give him, that release from the bondage -of what we call real things, which comes to one man from an intense -spirituality, to another from a consciousness of material form so -intense that it becomes abstract, he made the world over again in his -head, as if it existed only when it was thus re-made, and not even -then, until it had been set down in black line on a white surface, -in white line on a black surface. Working, as the decorative artist -must work, in symbols almost as arbitrary, almost as fixed, as the -squares of a chess-board, he swept together into his pattern all the -incongruous things in the world, weaving them into congruity by his -pattern. Using the puff-box, the toilet-table, the ostrich-feather hat, -with a full consciousness of their suggestive quality in a drawing of -archaic times, a drawing purposely fantastic, he put these things to -beautiful uses, because he liked their forms, and because his space of -white or black seemed to require some such arrangement of lines. They -were the minims and crotchets by which he wrote down his music; they -made the music, but they were not the music.</p> - -<p>In the "Salomé" (Ills. 15-29) drawings, in most of the "Yellow Book" -(Ills. 33, 34, 35, 37, 40, 41) drawings, we see Beardsley under this -mainly Japanese influence; with, now and later, in his less serious -work the but half-admitted influence of what was most actual, perhaps -most temporary, in the French art of the day. Pierrot gamin, in -"Salomé" itself, alternates, in such irreverences as the design of -"The Black Cape," (Ill. 17) with the creator of the noble line, in the -austere and terrible design of "The Climax," (Ill. 24) the ornate and -vehement design of "The Peacock Skirt." (Ill. 16.) Here we get pure -outline, as in the frontispiece; a mysterious intricacy, as in the -border of the title-page and of the table of contents; a paradoxical -beauty of mere wilfulness, but a wilfulness which has its meaning, -its excuse, its pictorial justification, as in "The Toilette." (Ill. -22). The "Yellow Book" and the first drawings for the "Savoy," (Ills. -54-57) a new influence has come into the work, the influence of the -French eighteenth century. This influence, artificial as it is, draws -him nearer, though somewhat unquietly nearer, to nature. Drawings like -"The Fruit Bearers," in the first number of the "Savoy," with its solid -and elaborate richness of ornament, or "The Coiffing," in the third -number, with its delicate and elaborate grace, its witty concentration -of line; drawings like the illustrations to the "Rape of the Lock," -(Ill. 53) have, with less extravagance, and also a less strenuous -intellectual effort, a new mastery of elegant form, not too far removed -from nature while still subordinated to the effect of decoration, to -the instinct of line. In the illustrations to Ernest Dowson's "Pierrot -of the Minute," (Ills. 45-47) we have a more deliberate surrender, -for the moment, to Eisen and Saint-Aubin, as yet another manner -is seen working itself out. The illustrations to "Mademoiselle de -Maupin," seemed to me, when I first saw them, with the exception of -one extremely beautiful design in colour, to show a certain falling -off in power, an actual weakness in the handling of the pen. But, in -their not quite successful feeling after natural form, they did but -represent, as I afterwards found, the moment of transition to what must -now remain for us, and may well remain, Beardsley's latest manner. The -four initial letters to "Volpone," the last of which was finished not -more than three weeks before his death, have a new quality both of hand -and of mind. They are done in pencil, and they lose, as such drawings -are bound to lose, very greatly in the reduced reproduction. But, in -the original, they are certainly, in sheer technical skill, equal -to anything he had ever done, and they bring at the last, and with -complete success, nature itself into the pattern. And here, under some -solemn influence, the broken line of beauty has reunited; "the care is -over," and the trouble has gone out of this no less fantastic world, in -which Pan still smiles from his terminal column among the trees, but -without the old malice. Human and animal form reassert themselves, with -a new dignity, under this new respect for their capabilities. Beardsley -has accepted the convention of nature itself, turning it to his own -uses, extracting from it his own symbols, but no longer rejecting it -for a convention entirely of his own making. And thus in his last work, -done under the very shadow of death, we find new possibilities for an -art, conceived as pure line, conducted through mere pattern, which, -after many hesitations, has resolved finally upon the great compromise, -that compromise which the greatest artists have made, between the -mind's outline and the outline of visible things.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This drawing is not reproduced in this volume.</p></div> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS_BY_AUBREY_BEARDSLEY" id="ILLUSTRATIONS_BY_AUBREY_BEARDSLEY">ILLUSTRATIONS BY AUBREY BEARDSLEY</a></h2> - - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> -<a id="art002"></a> -<img src="images/art_002.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE LITANY OF MARY MAGDALEN</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art003"></a> -<img src="images/art_003.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">A PORTRAIT OF AUBREY BEARDSLEY, BY HIMSELF</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art004"></a> -<img src="images/art_004.jpg" width="400" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">INCIPIT VITA NOVA</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art005"></a> -<img src="images/art_005.jpg" width="425" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">SANDRO BOTTICELLI</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art006"></a> -<img src="images/art_006.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">SIEGFRIED<br />From "The Studio"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art007"></a> -<img src="images/art_007.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">MERLIN<br />From "Le morte d'Arthur"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art008"></a> -<img src="images/art_008.jpg" width="400" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">VIGNETTE<br />From "Le morte d'Arthur"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art009"></a> -<img src="images/art_009.jpg" width="650" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">"LA BEALE ISOUD AT JOYOUS GARDEN"<br />From "Le morte d'Arthur"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art010"></a> -<img src="images/art_010.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">HOW QUEEN GUINEVER MADE HER A NUN<br />From "Le morte d'Arthur"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art011"></a> -<img src="images/art_011.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">"OF A NEOPHYTE? AND HOW THE BLACK ART WAS REVEALED UNTO HIM."</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<img src="images/art_012.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<a id="art012"></a> -<p class="cap">"THE KISS OF JUDAS"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art013"></a> -<img src="images/art_013.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">"A SUGGESTED REFORM IN BALLET COSTUME"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art014"></a> -<img src="images/art_014.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">BARON VERDIGRIS</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art015"></a> -<img src="images/art_015.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE WOMAN IN THE MOON<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art016"></a> -<img src="images/art_016.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">"THE PEACOCK SKIRT"<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art017"></a> -<img src="images/art_017.jpg" alt=" " width="525" /> -<p class="cap">THE BLACK CAPE<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art018"></a> -<img src="images/art_018.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE PLATONIC LAMENT<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art019"></a> -<img src="images/art_019.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">ENTER HERODIAS<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art020"></a> -<img src="images/art_020.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE EYES OF HEROD<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art021"></a> -<img src="images/art_021.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE STOMACH DANCE<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art022"></a> -<img src="images/art_022.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE TOILETTE OF SALOMÉ<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art023"></a> -<img src="images/art_023.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE DANCER'S REWARD<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art024"></a> -<img src="images/art_024.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE CLIMAX<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art025"></a> -<img src="images/art_025.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE TOILETTE OF SALOMÉ, THE FIRST DRAWING<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art026"></a> -<img src="images/art_026.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">JOHN AND SALOMÉ<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art027"></a> -<img src="images/art_027.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">SALOMÉ ON SETTEE<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a id="art028"></a> -<img src="images/art_028.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR TAILPIECE<br />"From Salomé"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art029"></a> -<img src="images/art_029.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR SALOMÉ<br />"From The Studio"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art030"></a> -<img src="images/art_030.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">"DESIGN FOR THE COVER OF "THE YELLOW BOOK"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art031"></a> -<img src="images/art_031.jpg" width="400" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">NIGHTPIECE</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width:475px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art032"></a> -<img src="images/art_032.jpg" width="475" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">PORTRAIT OF MRS. PATRICK CAMPBELL</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art033"></a> -<img src="images/art_033.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">TITLE-PAGE ORNAMENT FOR "THE YELLOW-BOOK", VOLUME II</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art034"></a> -<img src="images/art_034.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">COMEDY BALLET OF MARIONETTES I</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art035"></a> -<img src="images/art_035.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">COMEDY BALLET OF MARIONETTES II</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art036"></a> -<img src="images/art_036.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">COMEDY BALLET OF MARIONETTES III</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art037"></a> -<img src="images/art_037.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">GARÇONS DE CAFÉ</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art038"></a> -<img src="images/art_038.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE SLIPPERS OF CINDERELLA</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art039"></a> -<img src="images/art_039.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">PORTRAIT OF MANTEGNA<br /> From "The Yellow Book," Vol. III.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art040"></a> -<img src="images/art_040.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE WAGNERITES<br />From "The Yellow Book," Vol. III.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art041"></a> -<img src="images/art_041.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">LA DAME AUX CAMÉLIAS<br />From "The Yellow Book," Vol. III.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art042"></a> -<img src="images/art_042.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">MADAME RÉJANE</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art043"></a> -<img src="images/art_043.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">PORTRAIT OF BALZAC</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art044"></a> -<img src="images/art_044.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR FRONTISPIECE TO "AN EVIL MOTHERHOOD"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art045"></a> -<img src="images/art_045.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR FRONT COVER OF "PIERROT"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art046"></a> -<img src="images/art_046.jpg" width="650" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR END-PAPER OF "PIERROT"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 650px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art047"></a> -<img src="images/art_047.jpg" width="650" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR END-PAPER OF "PIERROT"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art048"></a> -<img src="images/art_048.jpg" width="600" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">LYSISTRATA</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art049"></a> -<img src="images/art_049.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">AN ATHENIAN WOMAN</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art050"></a> -<img src="images/art_050.jpg" width="450" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">MYRRHINA</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art051"></a> -<img src="images/art_051.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE DREAM</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art052"></a> -<img src="images/art_052.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE BARON'S PRAYER</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art053"></a> -<img src="images/art_053.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE RAPE OF THE LOCK</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art054"></a> -<img src="images/art_054.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">DESIGN FOR THE PROSPECTUS OF "THE SAVOY"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art055"></a> -<img src="images/art_055.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">ANOTHER DESIGN FOR THE PROSPECTUS OF "THE SAVOY"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art056"></a> -<img src="images/art_056.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">COVER DESIGN<br />From "The Savoy" N° 1.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art057"></a> -<img src="images/art_057.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">CONTENTS PAGE<br />From "The Savoy" N° 1.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art058"></a> -<img src="images/art_058.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE ABBÉ<br />From "Under the Hill"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art059"></a> -<img src="images/art_059.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE FOURTH TABLEAU OF "DAS RHEINGOLD"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art060"></a> -<img src="images/art_060.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">ERDA<br />To illustrate "Das Rheingold".</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art061"></a> -<img src="images/art_061.jpg" width="550" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">FLOSSHILDE<br />To illustrate "Das Rheingold"</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art062"></a> -<img src="images/art_062.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">THE DEATH OF PIERROT</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art063"></a> -<img src="images/art_063.jpg" width="475" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">AVE ATQUE VALE: CATULLUS, CARMEN, CI.</p> -</div> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px; margin-top: 4em;"> -<a id="art064"></a> -<img src="images/art_064.jpg" width="525" alt="" /> -<p class="cap">AUBREY BEARDSLEY'S BOOKPLATE</p> -</div> -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - - -<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50171 ***</div> - - - -</body> -</html> -</div> - -</div> |