out, so that I see in it now a sort of link
to join on Thursday nights the different groups from their opposing
corners, supplying to writers and artists one subject of the same
interest to both. It even opened the door to the architects, one of whom
went so far as to neglect architecture and to emulate Ibsen in a play.

The last thing I foresaw for the _Yellow Book_ was a speedy end or, for
the matter of that, any end at all, so overflowing was it with the
spirit of youth and energy, war and enthusiasm. But the end came
surprisingly soon. To remind me, were I in danger of forgetting, another
book stands on our shelves close to the First Volume of the _Yellow
Book_:--the First Volume of the _Savoy_, on its fly-leaf again
Beardsley's inscription simple as himself, "Mrs. Pennell, with kindest
regards from Aubrey Beardsley," and only a little less than two years
between the dates of the two. And the beginning of the _Savoy_ meant the
end of the _Yellow Book_, whose life was short after Beardsley left it.
Why he left it has nothing to do with the story of our Thursday nights,
when no obstacle, great or small, would have been put in its way by us
who held youth and energy, war and enthusiasm above most things in
demand and honour. But I question if the time has come for the full
telling of the story, wherever or with whom the blame may lie. That an
objection was raised to Beardsley's presence in the _Yellow Book_,
though without Beardsley there would have been no _Yellow Book_, is
known and has been told in print, the reason being that Victorian sham
prudery and respectability had not been totally wiped out for all the
hard fighting of the Fighting Nineties. Beardsley was not slain, he was
not defeated, at once he reappeared on the battle-field with the
_Savoy_, Arthur Symons his fellow editor. But by now the enemy never yet
conquered on this earth held him in deadly grip, and the fight he had to
fight sent him from London to Bournemouth, to Saint-Germain, to Dieppe,
to Mentone in search of health. He was the youngest of that old Thursday
night crowd and he was the first to go, and the _Savoy_ went with him,
and before he had gone our Thursday nights were already but a landmark
in memory, so quickly does the flame of youth burn out.

VII

By another of our happy chances Phil May came as assiduously on our
Thursday nights as Beardsley, and they were two of the artists, though
their art was as the poles apart, who had most