Beardsley. A publisher had asked me to form and edit a new kind of magazine, which was to appeal to th public equally in its letterpress and its illustrations: need I say that I am defining the Savoy? It was, I admit, to have been something of a rival to the Yellow Book, which'had by that time ceased to mark a movement, and had come to be little more than a publisher's magazine. I forget exactly when the expulsion of Beardsley from the Yellow Book had occurred; it had been sufficiently recent, at all events, to make Beardsley singularly ready to fall in with my project when I went to him and asked him to devote himself to illustrating my quarterly. He was supposed, just then, to be dying; and as I entered the room, and saw him lying out on a couch, horribly white, I wondered if I had come too late. He was full of ideas, full of enthusiasm, and I think it was then that he suggested the name Savoy, finally adopted after endless changes and uncertainties.
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