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Updated: June 13, 2025
But the letter, a copy of which had been sent to Beerbohm Tree, was not amongst them. "Some time afterwards a man named Allen called upon me one night in Tite Street, and said he had got a letter of mine which I ought to have. "The man's manner told me that he was the real enemy. 'I suppose you mean that beautiful letter of mine to Lord Alfred Douglas, I said.
"I am so sorry, Mr. Whistler," apologized the scribe. "Whistler, sir? Whistler? That's not my name!" he cried, in a highly wrought voice. "I beg your pardon?" "That is not my name. I say, you don't seem to know your own language. W-h is pronounced Wh-h-h Wh-h-histler. Bah!" Max Beerbohm, the caricaturist, was rather clumsy with the Gallic tongue.
Suppose that any cool and cynical art-critic, any art-critic fully impressed with the conviction that artists were greatest when they were most purely artistic, suppose that a man who professed ably a humane aestheticism, as did Mr. Max Beerbohm, or a cruel aestheticism, as did Mr.
He suggests that Mr Max Beerbohm is not competent to criticize actors because he is not a master of any branch of the difficult art of acting. This is a very foolish old fallacy.
Beerbohm Tree, Father Ducey, dear man, in his cape overcoat, Al Smith leaning against the Gilsey House railing, or any other characteristic and familiar figure natural to the composition.
'If you had not been so foolish as to send a copy of it to Mr. Beerbohm Tree, I should have been glad to have paid you a large sum for it, as I think it is one of the best I ever wrote. Allen looked at me with sulky, cunning eyes and said: "'A curious construction could be put upon that letter.
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.
If I have a native heath it is certainly Kensington High Street, off which stands the house of my childhood. I grew up in that thorough-fare which Mr. Max Beerbohm, with his usual easy exactitude of phrase, has described as "dapper, with a leaning to the fine arts."
Beerbohm Tree were in the cast, and it was a great success. For the first time Henry saw me act a whole part and from the "front" at least, for he had seen and liked scraps of my Juliet from the "side." Although he had known me such a long time, my Ellaline seemed to come quite as a surprise. "I wish I could tell you of the dream of beauty that you realized," he wrote after the performance.
It came into my mind that Beerbohm Tree must sometimes look on like that at a successful dress rehearsal of his well-managed stage crowds, with the same nonchalant satisfaction at the excellent results, so well up to time, of careful preparation. Of course I said "Colossal" to the cousin, when he expressed his satisfaction more particularly to me.
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