James Lewis May (1873-1861) was a critic and translator with a special interest in the fin de siècle, nourished by a spell, early in his career, as a stock-clerk at The Bodley Head, just at the time the bookshop was launching its controversial fin de siècle publications. Another author and critic from the same era and in the same literary set is mentioned below too: Richard La Gallienne (1866-1947). See La Gallienne's discussion of "The Boom in Yellow." As for publishers, John Lane (1854-1925) of The Bodley Head is, of course, the subject of the present book, while Frederic Chapman (1823-1895) was head of Chapman and Hall publishers. He died not so long after the events recalled here: George Egerton must have been one of his last important "finds." — Jacqueline Banerjee
cannot remember exactly how long it was after I had "taken my seat" at The Bodley Head that there occurred an event that impressed itself indelibly on my memory. A parcel had arrived at the office which, upon examination, was found to contain a collection of short stories. These were sent in due course to Richard Le Gallienne for examination. He reported on them in glowing terms and strongly urged their publication. Unfortunately the author had omitted to leave an address. There was therefore nothing for it but to await developments, if any. Weeks, or it may have been months, went by, when at last, one summer morning, the door opened and admitted, together with a flood of sunlight, a very attractive young woman, slim, dark-haired and dressed all in white. She spoke with vivacity and [128/129] charm. It was Chapman who had the good fortune to interview her. To me, behind the screen, she was invisible, but, in no long time, curiosity compelled me to descend from my perch and to make as if I had some book or other to look out on the shelves of the office proper. It was not every day that we entertained a Muse in Vigo Street!
She had come, she said, to know if we had anything to tell her about a collection of short stories which she had left with us some time ago. Chapman enquired the author’s name. "George Egerton," was the reply. "They are my stories. I wrote them under that name. My real name is Clairmonte — Mrs. Clairmonte."
Thus was the mystery solved. In due course the stories were published under the name Keynotes, and had a startling success. They were, for those times at any rate, rather daring, but they exhibited another characteristic which daring books of female authorship too rarely reveal: their workmanship was excellent, they were exceedingly well written.
Lane conceived the idea of publishing the book in stiffish paper covers. The cover design and title-page were to be by Aubrey Beardsley. The paper selected was strong, roughish, and of a colour between pale pink and mauve. Beardsley’s design, representing a tall dark woman in a big hat, a Pierrot and a little imp-like man clad in black velvet or satin playing a guitar, was reproduced in a darker tone of the same colour. On the back was a most elegant and chastely fanciful key.
Keynotes, dedicated
Knut Hamsun
In memory of a day when the west wind and the rainbow met
J.L.N.
[129/130] had an instantaneous and well-merited success. But the publishers had to give up their pretty paper binding. The libraries protested, and had to be appeased with cloth. It was a pity. The paper was a delightful experiment and, from every point of view save the utilitarian, an unqualified success.
This volume, which fully achieved the triumph Le Gallienne had predicted for it, went into several editions, was published in America, and gave its name to a series of books of which the following were among the more important:
A Child of the Age, by Francis Adams.
The Great God Pan, by Arthur Machen.
Grey Roses, by Henry Harland.
Monochromes, by Ella D’Arcy.
The Mountain Lovers, by Fiona Macleod. (William Sharp.)
Thirty years or more afterwards, I saw "George Egerton" again. At her invitation I went to call upon her. This time, instead of a lady in white with black hair, I saw a lady in black with white hair, but, in spite of the passage of the years, the vivacity and charm which, had lured me from my stool that far-off summer morning in Vigo Street had suffered no abatement.
Bibliography
May, J. Lewis. John Lane and the Nineties. London: John Lane, The Bodley Head, 1936. Internet Archive. Web. 30 October 2025.
Created 30 October 2025