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"Je me tiens toujours fidele," he told Rothenstein, "a la sorciere glauque." "It is bad for you," said Rothenstein, dryly. "Nothing is bad for one," answered Soames. "Dans ce monde il n'y a ni bien ni mal." "Nothing good and nothing bad? How do you mean?" "I explained it all in the preface to 'Negations." "'Negations'?" "Yes, I gave you a copy of it." "Oh, yes, of course.
"Enoch Soames," repeated Rothenstein in a tone implying that it was enough to have hit on the surname. "We met in Paris a few times when you were living there. We met at the Cafe Groche." "And I came to your studio once." "Oh, yes; I was sorry I was out." "But you were in. You showed me some of your paintings, you know. I hear you're in Chelsea now." "Yes." I almost wondered that Mr.
Rothenstein said "yes, I did not know you dined here that often." Some one asked him why he wore his hair long, "To test your manners" he answered. He is a disciple of Whistler's and Wilde's and said "yes, I defend them at the risk of their lives." Did I tell you of his saying "It is much easier to love one's family than to like them." And when some one said "Did you hear how Mrs. B. treated Mr.
Rothenstein was much worried over his lithograph, yet "it was all right on the night," as actors say. "Dear Miss Terry, "My nights have been sleepless my drawing sitting gibbering on my chest. I knew how fearfully I should stumble that is why I wanted to do more drawings earlier. I have been working on the thing this morning, and I believe I improved it slightly.
I was sorry for him; and Rothenstein, though he had not invited him to Chelsea, did ask him to sit down and have something to drink. Seated, he was more self-assertive. He flung back the wings of his cape with a gesture which, had not those wings been waterproof, might have seemed to hurl defiance at things in general. And he ordered an absinthe.
It was the hour before dinner. We drank vermouth. Those who knew Rothenstein were pointing him out to those who knew him only by name. Men were constantly coming in through the swing-doors and wandering slowly up and down in search of vacant tables, or of tables occupied by friends. One of these rovers interested me because I was sure he wanted to catch Rothenstein's eye.
'Je me tiens toujours fidele, he told Rothenstein, 'a la sorciere glauque. 'It is bad for you, said Rothenstein dryly. 'Nothing is bad for one, answered Soames. 'Dans ce monde il n'y a ni de bien ni de mal. 'Nothing good and nothing bad? How do you mean? 'I explained it all in the preface to "Negations." "Negations"? 'Yes; I gave you a copy of it. 'Oh yes, of course.
It was to him I owed my first knowledge of that forever enchanting little world-in-itself, Chelsea, and my first acquaintance with Walter Sickert and other august elders who dwelt there. It was Rothenstein that took me to see, in Cambridge Street, Pimlico, a young man whose drawings were already famous among the few Aubrey Beardsley, by name.
It was very stupid and the men outnumbered the women 30 to 1, which are interesting odds. To-day we went to Whistler's and sat out in a garden with high walls about it and drank tea and laughed at Rothenstein. The last thing he said was at the Ambassadeurs when one of the students picking up a fork said, "These are the same sort of forks I have."
"If," he urged, "I went into a bookseller's and said simply, 'Have you got? or, 'Have you a copy of? how would they know what I wanted?" "Oh, of course I should have my name on the cover," Soames answered earnestly. "And I rather want," he added, looking hard at Rothenstein, "to have a drawing of myself as frontispiece."
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