Max Beerbohm

Max Beerbohm

Summary

Portrait of Max Beerbohm Max Beerbohm Seven Men — James Pethel (1915)

If the death is that of a mere acquaintance whom you have not seen for years, you are touched so lightly as to find solace enough in even such faded reminiscence as is yours to offer. Seven years have passed since the day when last I saw James Pethel, and that day was the morrow of my first meeting with him.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Max Beerbohm Max Beerbohm Seven Men — James Pethel (1915)

That Pethel did love his daughter I have never doubted. One passion is not less true because another predominates. No one who ever saw that father with that daughter could doubt that he loved her intensely. And this intensity gages for me the strength of what else was in him.
Mrs. Pethel's love, though less explicit, was not less evidently profound. But the maternal instinct is less attractive to an onlooker, because he takes it more for granted than the paternal. What endeared poor Mrs. Pethel to me was—well, the inevitability of the epithet I give her.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Max Beerbohm Max Beerbohm Seven Men — James Pethel (1915)

One feels that anything thrown at them would be either embedded or shattered, and looks vainly among them for one person furnished with a normal amount of flesh. Monsters they are, all of them, to the eye, though I believe that many of them have excellent moral qualities in private life; but just as in an American town one goes sooner or later—goes against one's finer judgment, but somehow goes—into the dime-museum, so year by year, in Dieppe's race-week, there would be always one evening when I drifted into the baccarat-room.
Source: Wikisource

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