And yet... and yet...
perhaps he did intend something of what we discern here. He may have
been thinking, bitterly, of his own childhood, and of the home he ran
away from.
`YET AGAIN'
SOME CRITICISMS OF THE FIRST EDITION
Mr. Edmund Gosse, in THE WORLD: `We may find it hard to realise that
Max may become a classic, but I see no other essayist who seems to
have more chance of it.... There is no question of "reserved places"
on Parnassus, but it is my individual conviction that where La
Bruye`re and Addison and Stevenson are, there Max will be.... It is
perhaps his final charm as an essayist that, underneath a ceremonious
style, an exquisite demeanour and advance, a low voice, a graceful
hearing, a polished cadence, there exists a powerful, sometimes what
almost seems a furious independence of character.'
THE TIMES: `So few men can trifle without being silly or be intimate
without being tiresome, so few have either the mental power or the
unity of vision necessary for a decent transition from mood to mood,
that essayists fit to be ranked with Steele, Addison, Stevenson, are
still few. Mr. Max Beerbohm has proved his title.... There, where
every idea is the author's, and every phrase is scrupulously adapted
to the best expression by the author of his own idea, we get the true
originality in art.
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