细节
BEERBOHM, Sir MAX. Autograph manuscript signed of his introduction to John Rothenstein, The Portrait Drawings of William Rothenstein 1889-1925. An Iconography. (London 1926). 9 pages, folio, in ink on rectos only, with numerous revisions and extensive deletions (in Beerbohm's characteristic blacking out of words), with directions to the printers in ink and pencil at top of first page and in pencil in a margin, the setting copy with printer's markings in red pencil; signed by Beerbohm at end and dated "Pistoia. August 19, 1925." At the top of the first page Beerbohm has given a word count ("just about 2500" words") and had directed the printers to "Please follow my punctuation exactly throughout. And please send two proofs, with the MS." to his home in Rapallo (he gives the address).
A fine manuscript in which Beerbohm in his usual impeccable prose reminisces about his friend Rothenstein (from their first meeting at Oxford in 1893) and discusses the nature of portraiture. "...The choice of introducer cannot have been an easy one. I imagine the son [John Rothenstein] saying, 'Father, does the Archbishop of Canterbury know much about graphic art?' and the father [William Rothenstein] replying, 'My child, there must ever be value in any opinion held on any subject by a man of wide spiritual experience. But already the massiveness of the temple that you have reared in my honour oppresses me rather. Get the frivolous young thing, Max Beerbohm, to come and throw some somersaults on the steps of this great edifice.' I imagine the son pointing out that I am no longer frivolous or young or agile, and the father realising the truth of this, but saying, 'No matter. At any rate he's undignified.' So here I am. But fuller of awe [for Rothenstein's work] than ever..."
"Will [Rothenstein], despite his natural high spirits, and despite the temporary influence of Whistler upon the outlook of all striplings who passed by, was a man of essentially sober intellect. One sometimes realized this, even then. I remember an evening at the Café Royal (can we greybeards never set pen to paper without remembering some evening at the Café Royal?) when Oscar Wilde, who had for some time been talking in a vein of iridescent nonsense about some important matter, paused and said, with good reason and with genuine feeling, 'My dear Will, don't be so serious:..."
"...I remember that Aubrey Beardsley delighted greatly in the pastel that you will see here. The wit of it was very congenial to his taste. but he might have liked it less could he have foreseen how Will would be drawing the marvellous boys of a later era. The change is extremely interesting. And the technical method of draughtsmanship has of course changed also, in accordance to the deepening and mellowing of spirit. It is a beautifully right method for one whose way now is to seek out truth by seeking out what is best..." Beerbohm manuscripts are now seldom encountered in the market. (Schimmel)
A fine manuscript in which Beerbohm in his usual impeccable prose reminisces about his friend Rothenstein (from their first meeting at Oxford in 1893) and discusses the nature of portraiture. "...The choice of introducer cannot have been an easy one. I imagine the son [John Rothenstein] saying, 'Father, does the Archbishop of Canterbury know much about graphic art?' and the father [William Rothenstein] replying, 'My child, there must ever be value in any opinion held on any subject by a man of wide spiritual experience. But already the massiveness of the temple that you have reared in my honour oppresses me rather. Get the frivolous young thing, Max Beerbohm, to come and throw some somersaults on the steps of this great edifice.' I imagine the son pointing out that I am no longer frivolous or young or agile, and the father realising the truth of this, but saying, 'No matter. At any rate he's undignified.' So here I am. But fuller of awe [for Rothenstein's work] than ever..."
"Will [Rothenstein], despite his natural high spirits, and despite the temporary influence of Whistler upon the outlook of all striplings who passed by, was a man of essentially sober intellect. One sometimes realized this, even then. I remember an evening at the Café Royal (can we greybeards never set pen to paper without remembering some evening at the Café Royal?) when Oscar Wilde, who had for some time been talking in a vein of iridescent nonsense about some important matter, paused and said, with good reason and with genuine feeling, 'My dear Will, don't be so serious:..."
"...I remember that Aubrey Beardsley delighted greatly in the pastel that you will see here. The wit of it was very congenial to his taste. but he might have liked it less could he have foreseen how Will would be drawing the marvellous boys of a later era. The change is extremely interesting. And the technical method of draughtsmanship has of course changed also, in accordance to the deepening and mellowing of spirit. It is a beautifully right method for one whose way now is to seek out truth by seeking out what is best..." Beerbohm manuscripts are now seldom encountered in the market. (Schimmel)