TH IRD ED ITI ON

THE L I FE OF

O S C AR WI L D E
W I TH A C H AP T ER C O TRI
N T BU ED BY
T H E PR IS O N WA R D E R W HO H EL D
THIS UN H A PPY M AN I N G AO L

V e ry f u lly I llus trated a n d w z t /z P/z o tOgr av u re

F ron tz sp z ece , and a B z ograp/zy

By

R O BE R T HAR BO R OU G H S H ER A R D

D ewy Clo t}: gi lt

lz m z ted
'

de lux e
’
A ls o a e az tz on
O SCAR WI LD E

LE ON ARD C R E S S VV E L L IN G L E BY

LO N D O N

T . W ER N ER LAU R I E
CLI FFO RD ’
S INN
 C ONTE N T S
PA G E
P A RT I

O SC AR W I L D E : TH E MA N

P A RT II
TH E MO D ERN P L A RI HT
YW G

Th e D ram at ist

L ady W in de rm e re ’
s F an
A W o man Im p t n
O f No or a ce

Th e Id l Hu b and
ea s

Th e Im p tan O f B in g E a n t
or ce e r es

P A RT II I
RO MA NTI C D R A MA S
S al mé
o

Th e D uc h e ss o f Padua

V e ra, o r Nihili t
th e s s

Th e F l ntin T g dy
o re e ra e

Th e W ma C v
o d W ith J
n o e re e we ls

P A RT IV

TH E W RITER op FAI RY S T O RIE S

Th e Fairy St i
or e s

V ll
V 1 11

BEA T
U Y

PR O F U N D I S
 O SCA R W I L D E

T HE M A N

THE O U V GT o
'
i,
the connoisseurs always recognised ,

the genius of Oscar Fingal O F lah e rtie Wills ’

Wilde from the very first moment when he

b egan to write For many years ordinary people
.

to whom literature and literary affairs were not

o f at an rat e absorbing interest only knew of
, y ,

O scar W ilde by his extravagances and poses .

Then it happened that Wilde turned his

powers in the direction of the stage and achieved
a swift and brilliant success The English public
.

then began to realise that here was an unusually

brilliant man and the extraordinary genius of
,

the subj ect of this work would have certainly

been universally recognised in a few more years ,

when the shocking scandals associated with his

name occurred and Oscar Wilde disappeared
into oblivion .

A great change gradually took place in public

opinion L ittle by little the feeling of prej udice
.

against the work of Os car Wilde began to die

away The man himself was dead H e had
. .

e x piated his crimes by a prolonged agony o f

4. O sc ar W ild e
the mos t hideous su ffering and disgrace and ,

people began t o wonder if his wri t ings were in any

way associated wi th the dark side of his life and
character or whether they might not after all be
, , ,

beautiful pure and treasures of the literature of

, ,

our time The four comedies of Manners L ady

.
,

W inde rme re s Fan ’

The Ideal Husband ,
”
A ,
”

Woman O f No Imp o rtance The I mportance ,

”

O f Being E arnest everyone had seen and ,

laughed at They were certainly abs o lutely

.

without o ffence It was gradually seen t hat

.

b ecause a ho u se was built by an architect of an

immoral private life that did no t necessarily
invalidate it as a residence that if Stephenson ,

had ended his life upon the gallows people would

s t ill fi nd railways convenient and necessary .

The truth gradually dawned that Wilde had

never in his life written a line that was immoral
or impure and that in short the criminal side
, , ,

of him was only a part of his complex nature ,

horribly disastrous for himself and his personal

life but ab solutely without infl ue nce upon his
,

w o rk .

Art and his aberrat ion never mingled or over

lapped Everybody began to realise the fact
. .

Opinion was also being quietly moulded from

within by a band of literary and artistic people ,

some of them friends of the late author others ,

knowing him simply through his work .

The public began to ask for V ilde s books

’
V
 The Ma n 5
and found it almost impossible to obtain them ,

“ ”
for the Ballad of R eading Gaol published ,

while its author was still alive had not stimulated,

an y general demand for other works .

It was after Oscar VV ilde s deat h that his ’

friends and admirers were able to set to work at

their endeavours to rehabilitate him as artist in
the mind of general prej udice Books and mono .

graphs were written about Wilde in English ,

French and German H e was quo t ed in the

, .

leading C ontinental reviews His play S alomé

.

met with sudden and stupendous success all over

Europe a famous musician turned it into an
,

opera A well known English man of letters

.
-
,

M r R obert Harborough Sherard published a ,

fi mal o ffi cial “ ”
L ife of the dead author and ,

“
Wilde s own’

D e Profundis appeared to
startle sadden and thrill the whole reading
, ,

world .

His plays are being revived and an auth o rit a ,

tive and e x haustive edition of his writ ings is

being issued by a leading publishing house .

There is no doubt about it the most pre ,

j u di c e d and hostile critics must admi t it — ih a

li t erary sense as a man of letters wi t h e x tra
,

ordinary genius Oscar Wilde has come into his

,

own The time is therefore ripe for a work of

.
, ,

“
the present character which endeavours to ap
p re ciat e one of the strangest saddest most , ,

artistic and p o werful brains of modern times .

6 O scar W ild e
Five years ago such a book as this would prob
ably have been out of place When Balzac .

died S ainte Beuve prefaced a short critical article

-

of fourteen pages as follows ,

“
A careful study of the famous novelist who
h as j ust been taken from u s and whose sudden
,

loss has excited universal interest would require ,

a whole work and the time for that I think has

, , ,

not yet come Those sort of moral autopsies

.

cannot be made over a freshly dug grave e s ,

e ciall when he who has been laid in it was

p y
full of strength and fertility and seemed still ,

full of future works and days All that is pos .

sible and fitting in respect of a great contem

p o rar
y renown at the moment death lays it low
is to point out by means of a few clear cut lines
,
-
,

the m erits the varied skill by which it charmed

, ,

i t s epoch and acquired infl u e n ce over it .

When Oscar Wilde died and before the ,

“
publication of D e Profundis various short ,

essays did as I have stated make an appear

, ,

ance A longer work seems called fo r and i t

.
,

is that want which the presen t volume does its

best to supply .

“
Oscar Wilde : The Man is the title of the
fi rst part of this Appreciation In M r Sherard s
.
’

The Story of an Unhappy Friendship as also ,

“ ”
in his careful and scholarly L ife the many ,

sided nat ure of Oscar Wilde was set forth with

all the ability of a brilliant pen But there is .
 Th e Ma n 7
yet room for another and possibly more detached
,

point of View and also a summary of the views

,

of others which will assist the general reader to

gain a mental picture of a writer whose works ,

in a very short time are certain to have a

,

general as well as a particular appeal

, .

The scheme of a work of this nature which is ,

critical rather than biographical would n e ve rth e

,

less be incomplete withou t a personal study .

’
The study of Wilde s writings cannot fail to
b e enormously assisted by some knowledge of
the man himself and how he was regarded by
,

others both before and after his pers o nal dis

grace.

Ever since his name was known to the world

at all the public view of him has constantly been
shifting and changing There are however four
.
, ,

principal periods during each o f which Wilde

was regarded in a totally di fferent way I have .

made a careful analysis of each of these periods

and collected documentary and o t her evidence
which de fine s and explains them .

The first period of all—Oscar Wilde himself

always spoke of the di fferent phases of his ex t ra
“ —
ordinary career as periods was that of the
“
EEst h e tic movement as it is generally called ,

or the ae sthetic craze as many people prefer

to name it still New movemen t s whether good
.
,

o r bad in their conception and ultimate result ,

always e x cite enmity hostility and ridicule In

, , .
8 O scar W ild e
a ffairs in religion in art this is an invariable
, , ,

rule No pioneer has ever escaped it England

. .

laughed at t he fi rst railway j eered at the ,

volunteer movement and laughed a t J o h n Keats

in precisely the same fashion as it ridiculed
Oscar Wilde and the ae sthetic m o vement .

It is as well to de fine that movement care

fully for though marred by innumerable e x
, ,

travagan c e s and s t ill su ffering from the inanities

of its first disciples it has nevert heless had a
,

real and permanent infl u e n ce up o n English life .

Oscar Wilde was of course not the originator

, ,

of the aesthetic movemen t H e t o ok up o n

.

himself to bec o me its hierophant and to infuse ,

much that was peculiarly his own into it The .

movement was begun by R uskin R ossetti , ,

William Morris Burne J ones and a host of

,
-
,

others while it was continued in the delicate

,

and b eautiful wri t ings of Walter Pat er But .

it had always been an eclectic movement not ,

for the public eye or car neither known of nor

,

popular wi t h ordinary people .

Oscar Wilde then began to in t erest and e x cite

England and America in the true aims and
methods of art of all kinds It shows an .

absolute ignorance of the late V ictorian era to

say that the movement was a passing craze To .

O scar Wilde we owe it that people of re fine d

tastes but moderate means can obtain beautiful
papers for the walls of their houses at a moderate
 Th e Ma n 9
cost . The cheap and lovely fabrics that we
can buy in R egent Stree t are spun as a direct
consequence of the movement ; harm o ny and
delicacy of colour beauty of curve and line the
, ,

whole renaissance of art in our household furni

ture are mainly due to the writings and lec t ures
of Oscar Wilde .

It is not a crime to love b eautiful things it is ,

not e ffeminate t o care for them I t is to the .

subj ect of this appreciat i o n we owe o ur nat ional

change of feeling on such matt ers .

This briefly is wha t t he ae s the t ic m o vement

, ,

was such are its indubi t able result s

, L e t us .

see in some instances how Wilde was regarded

, ,

in the period when b efore his real literary suc

,

cesses he preached t he gospel o f Beau ty in

,

everyday life .

L e t u s take a C ontinen t al view of Wilde in his

first period the V i ew of a really eminent man a
, ,

distinguished scientist and man of lett ers .

The name of Dr Ma x Nordau will be familiar

t o many readers of this bo o k Bu t if the book .
,

fulfi ls the purpose for which it was designed ,

then possibly there will be many readers who

will kn o w little or nothing of the distinguished
foreign writer Hard one sided and bitter as
.
,
-
,

his remarks upon Wilde during the ae sthetic

—
movement will seem to most of u s seem to me
— yet they have the merit of absolute detachmen t
and sincerity It is as well to insis t on this fact
.
 Th e Ma n I I

A u sge wah lt e Pariser Briefe 1 8 8 4 ; Parado x e , ,

1 8 8 5 ; D ie Kran k heit des J ah run de rt s 1 8 8 7 ; ,

S eelenanalysen 1 8 9 1 ; G e f uhlsk o m odie 1 8 9 2

, ,

Entartung 1 8 9 3 ; D as R echt z u lieben 1 8 9 4 ;

, ,

D ie Kugel 1 8 9 5 ; Drohnenschlacht 1 8 9 6 ; L a
, ,

funzione sociale dell arte 1 8 9 7 ; D octor Kohn

, ,

1 8 9 8 ; The Drones must Die 1 8 9 9 : Z e itge n ois ,

sisehe Franzosen 1 9 01 ; Morganatic 1 9 04 ;

, ,

Mah a R og 1 9 05
-
, R ecreatio ns : foil fencing
.
-
,

”
swimming A ddress : 8 R u e L eonie Paris
.
, , .

Nearly all the modern manifestations of Art ,

”
implies Dr Max Nordau in D egeneration are , ,

manifestations of madness Such a sweeping .

statement is incredible and has not nor will—

i t have —many advocates despite the brilliant ,

special pleading of its originator In Oscar .

Wilde s case the aphorism seems particularly

’

misleading for the reason that there may app ear

to be a considerable amount of truth in it .

That Wilde s so cial downfall was due to a

’

cert ain kind of e lliptifo rm insanity is without

doubt M r S herard has insisted on this over and
.

o ver again H e has spent enorm o us labour in

.

researches into W ilde s ancestry His View is

’
.

really a scie nt ifi c View because it is written by

an artist who sees both sides of the question has ,

a j udicial mind and while capable of appreciating

,

the truths that science teaches u s is further cap ,

able of welding them to the psychological truths

which the intuition of the artist alone evolves .
I 2 O sc ar W ild e
A certain de fi nit e and partial insanity alone
can explain Wilde s life in cert ain of its aspects
’
.

B ut when once his pen was in his hand in his ,

real bright life of literature and art this hidden ,

thing entirely disappears Therefore Dr Ma x .

,

N o rdau s study seems to me fundamen t ally

’

wrong though extremely interesting and not

,

to be disregarded To know O scar Wilde we

.

must know what all sorts of people whose ,

opinion has weight enough t o secure a wide

hearing really thought ab ou t him
,
.

The G erman scientist said

The ego mania of decaden t ism i t s love o f the
-
,

artifi c ial its aversion to nature and to all forms

, ,

of activity and m ovement its megalomaniacal ,

contempt for men and its e x aggeration of the

imp ortance of art have found their English
,

representative among t he ZEsth e te s t he chief ‘

,
’

o f whom is Oscar Wilde .

Wilde has done m o re by his personal e cce n

t ricit ie s than by his w o rks L ike B arbey .

d A u re V illy whose rose coloured silk hats and

’
-
,

gold lace cravats are well known and like his ,

disciple J o sé ph in Pé ladan who walks ab out in ,

lace frills and satin dou blet Wilde dresses in ,

queer costumes which recall partly the fashions

of the Middle Ages partly the rococo modes,
.

H e pretends to have abandoned the dress of the

present time because it o ffends his sense of the
beautiful ; but this is only a prete x t in which
 Th e Ma n I 3
probably he himself does not believe What .

really de t ermines his actions is t he hys t erical

craving t o be noticed to o ccupy t he attention
,

of the world with himself to get talked about , .

It is asserted t hat he has walked down Pall Mall

in the afternoon dressed in doublet and breeches ,

with a picturesque biretta on his head and a ,

sun fl o we r in his hand the quasi heraldic sym b ol

,
-

of the E s thetes This anecdo t e has been repr o

.

duce d in all the biographies of Wilde and I have ,

nowhere seen it denied But it is a promenade .

with a sunflo we r in the hand also inspired by a

craving for the b eautiful .

Phrasemakers are perpet ually repea t ing the

twaddle that it is a proof of honourable inde
,

e n de n ce to follow one s o wn tas t e withou t b eing

’

p
bound down to the regulation costume of the
Philistine cattle and to choose for clothes the
,

colours material s and cut which appear beauti

,

ful to oneself no matter how much they may

,

di ffer from the fashion of the day The answer .

to this cackle should be t hat it is above all a sign

of an t i social ego mania to irritate the maj ority
- -

unnecessarily only t o grat ify vanity or an

, ,

aesthetical instinct of small impor t ance and easy

—
t o control such as is always done when either ,

by word or deed a man places himself in opposi

,

tion to this maj ority H e is obliged to repress

.

many manifestations of opinions and desires out

of regard for his fellow creatures ; to make him -
I 4
. O sc ar W ild e
understand t his is the aim of educati o n and he ,

who has not learnt t o impose some res train t upon

himself in order not t o shock o t hers is called
by malicious Philistines not an ZEsth et e bu t a , ,

blackguard .

It may bec o me a duty t o c o mbat the vulgar

herd in the cause of t ruth and kn o wledge ; but
to a serious man this duty will always be felt as
a painful one H e will never fulfil it with a light
.

heart and he will e x amine s tric tly and cau tiously

,

if it be really a high and imperat ive law which

forces him to be disagreeable t o the maj ority
of his fellow creat ures S uch an acti o n is in
-
.
,

the eyes of a moral and sane man a kind of ,

martyrd o m for a conviction t o carry ou t which ,

constitutes a vital necessity ; i t is a form and ,

not an easy form of sel f sacrifi ce for i t means

,
-
,

the renunciation o f th e j o y which the conscious

w

ness o f sympathy with one s fellow creatures ’

-

gives and it e x acts the pai nful over throw of

,

s o cial instinc t s which in truth do not e x ist in

, , ,

deranged eg o maniacs but are very strong in the

-
,

normal man .

“
The predilection fo r s trange c o s t ume is a
pathological aberrat ion of a racial instinc t The .

adornment of the e x t erior has its o rigin in the

—
strong desire to be admired by o t hers primarily
—
by the opposite se x to be recognised by them
as especially well shaped handsome you t hful o r , , ,

rich and p o werful or as pre eminen t t hr o ugh

,
-
 Th e M an I
5
rank or merit It is practised t hen with the
.
, ,

obj ect of producing a favourable impression o n

others and is a resul t o f thought about others
, ,

o f preoccupation wi t h the race I f now this .

, ,

adornment be not through misj udgmen t but

,

purposely of a character to cause irritati o n t o

,

,
—
o thers or lend itself t o ridicule in other words ,

if it e x cites disapproval instead of appro bation

—it then runs exactly counter to t he obj ec t of
the ar t of dress and evinces a perversion o f the
,

ins t inct o f vanity .

The pretence o f a sense o f beauty is t he e x cuse

of consciousness fo r a crank of the conscious .

The fool who masquerades in Pall Mall does not

see himself and therefore does n o t enj oy the
, , ,

b eautiful appearance which is supp o sed to be an

ae s t hetic necessity for him There would be .

some sense in his conduct if it had for its obj ec t

an endeav o ur to cause others t o dress in accord
ance with his tas t e ; for them he sees and they
can scandalise him by the ugliness and charm ,

by t he beauty o f t heir c o stume

, Bu t t o take .

the initiative in a new art istic style in dress

brings the innovat o r not one hair s breadth nearer ’

his assumed goal of aesthetic satisfaction .

W hen therefore an Oscar Wilde goes ab o ut

, ,

in msth e tic costume among gazing Philistines

‘
’

e x citing either their ridicule or their wrath i t is ,

no indication of independence of character but ,

rather from a purely an ti socialis t ic ego maniacal

-
,
-
I 6 O sc ar W ild e
recklessness and hys t erical longing to make a
sensation j u stifi e d by no e x alted aim ; nor is it
,

from a strong desire of beauty but from a male

,

volen t mania for contradiction .

”

It is impossible to read the extracts quoted

—
above and only a few paragraphs suffi cie nt to
show the trend of a much longer article have
b een used —without realising its inj ustice and
yet at the same time i t s perfec t sincerity D ur .

ing the first period with which we are dealing

,

n o w Wilde und o ubtedly excited the enmity

,

and ridicule of a vast number of people H e .

knew that he had something to say which was

—
worth lis t ening to H e knew also as the genius
.

—
always has known that he was superior in
intellect to those by whom he was surrounded .

His temperament was impat ient H e wanted .

to take the place to which he felt he was entitled

in a sudden moment His quick C eltic imagina
.

tion ran riot with fact his immeasurable ambition

, ,

his serene consciousness of worth which to usual ,

minds and temperamen t s suggested nothing but

conceit all urged him to display and e xt rava
,

gance in order to more speedily mount the

rostrum from which he would be heard .

Therefore in this fi rst period of this so

,

astonishing a career he went far to spoil and

,

obscure his message by the very means he hoped

would enable him to pub lish it widely H e in .

vented a pose which he intended should become

 Th e Ma n I
7
a megaphone whereas in the e ffect i t did bu t
, , ,

retard the hearing of his voice unt il the practical

wisdom of what he wished t o say pr o ved i t self
in concrete form .

Nor must we ever forge t t he man s c o nstant ’

sense of humour a mocking spri t e which d o u bt

,

less led him to this or that public foolishness

while he chuckled within at his o wn atti t ude and
the dance he was leading his imitators and fools .

For Oscar Wilde had a supreme sense of

humour Many people would like t o deny him
.

hu mour while admitting his marvellous and

,

scin t illating wit That they are wrong I u n

.

hesitatingly assert and I b elieve that this will

,

be proved over and over again in the foll o wing

pages .

L e t u s take ano t her View of Wilde at this

period It was written after his disappearance
.

from public life or rather when it was imminent

,

and certain The words are those of M r

.

L ab ouchere the fl aneur with an in t ellect the

, ,

somewhat acid critic of how many changing

aspects and phases of English social life .

“
I have known Oscar Wilde o ff and on for
years, writes M r L abouchere in Tru th .

Clever and witty he unquestionably is but I ,

have always regarded him as somewhat wrong in

the head for his craving after notoriety seemed
,

to me a positive craze There was nothing that .

he would not do to attract attention When he .

B
 Th e Ma n I
9
vain he went from publisher to pu blisher aski ng
them to bring them ou t : no one w o uld even
read them for he was unknown In order to
, .

fi n d a publisher he felt t ha t he must do some

thing to become a personality S o he hit upon .

msth e ticism It succeeded People talked about

. .

him ; they invited him to t heir houses as a sort

of lion H e then took his poems to a pu blisher
.
,

who — still without reading them gladly ac

”
c e t e d them
p .

This is thoroughly unsympat hetic b ut no ,

doubt it represents a mood with some faithful

ness In criticising the work of critics one must
.

be a p sycho logist R eligion the C hristian re

.
,

ligio n at anyrat e teaches tolerance

, Its t each .

ings are seldom obeyed The four B ags of the

—
.

—
litany let u s personify them l Envy Hatred , ,

Malice and Uncharitableness unfortunately in

,

trude into religious life too often and too power

fully . But the real psychologist not the ,

s cientist ( vide Nordau ) is able to understand

better than anyone else the motives which have
animated criticism at any gi ven date The .

c h o lo ist more than any other type of man

py s g
or woman has learnt the lesson Charles R eade
“
tried to inculcate in Put Yourself In His
Place .

With a little e ffort we can realise wha t

Tru th thought when these lines were writt en .

We canno t blame t he writer we can only record ,

20 O scar W ild e
his words as a part of t he general statemen t
dealing wi t h Oscar Wilde s life and attitude
’

during the ZEsth e tic Period

“
.

A t this point the reader may possibly ask

himself if t he title given t o the b ook Oscar
Wilde : an Appreciation —is en t irely j u stifi e d .

The writer of it he may say t o himself

,
”
is ,

giving u s examples of hostile criticism of Wilde s ’

fi rst period and though he endeavours to e x plain

,

t hem yet in an appreciation it rather seems that

, , ,

such quotations are ou t of place .

”

I do not think that if the point of view is

c o nsidered for a moment the stricture will be
,

persisted in .

Eulogy indiscrim ating eulogy is simply an

, ,

ea : arte statement which can have no weight at

p
all I shall endeavour to show b efore this first
.
,

part of the book is completed not only how ,

those who attacked Wilde were mistaken not ,

only how those who bestowed indiscriminate

praise upon him made an over statement but -
,

fi n ally and de fi nit e ly what Wilde was as seen

through the temperament of the writer corrected ,

by the s t at emen t s of other writ ers both for and

against him .

I am convinced that this is the only scie ntifi c

method of arriving at a j ust estimation of the
character of t his brilliant and ex t raordinary man .

No summing up of the ae sthet ic period could be

comple t e wi t hout copious references t o the great
 Th e M an 2 I

chronicler of our modern pages of M r —

life t he
Punch .

Pu n ch has never been bi t ter I t has often .

been severe bu t M r P unch has always from

, ,

the very first moment o f his arrival among u s ,

successfully held the balance between t his o r

that faction and more o ver has faithfully re
, , ,

fl e ct e d the consensus o f public o pinion up o n

any given mat ter .

The e x traordinary skill wit h which some o f

the brightest and merriest wit s have made our
nat ional comic paper the true diary of even t s
cannot b e con tr o verted or disputed Follies and .

fashi o ns have been criticised with sat ire but ,

never with spleen Addis o n said that t he

.

“
appearance of a man of genius in the world
may always be known by t he Virulence of
dunces Pu nch has proved for generations
that its kindly appreciat ion or depreciati o n has
never been virulent bu t nearly always an
,

accurate statemen t of the opini o n and p o int

of View o f t he ordinary more or less cul t ured
and well bred person
-
.

It has always b een a sign of eminence in t his

or that department of life to be men tioned in
Pun ch at all The conduct o rs of that j ournal
.

during its whole career have always exercised

the wisest discrimination and have always kept
,

shrewd fi nge rs upon the pulses of English

th o ugh t When a polit ician fo r example is
.
, ,
22 O sca r W ild e
caricatured in Punch that politician kn o ws t hat
he has arrived at a cer t ain place and poin t in
public estimation When a writer is caricatured
.
,

either in line or words he also knows that he ,

has at anyrat e o btained a hold o f this or that

, ,

sort upon the country .

N o w those who would try to minimise the

place of O scar Wilde in t he pu blic eye during
the $sth et ic period have only t o look at the
pages of Pu nch t o realise h o w greatly that
m o vemen t infl uen ce d English life during its
c o n tinuance .

L et it b e thor o ughly unders t oo d —and very

—
few people will att empt to deny it that Punch
has always been a perfectly adj us t ed barometer
of cele bri ty .

It is therefore no t o ut of place herein to

, , , ,

publish a bibliography of the references to O scar

W ilde which from fi rst to last of that comet
,

1ike career appeared in the pages of M r Punch

, .

S uch a lis t proves immediately the one sidedness -

o f Dr Ma x N o rdau s and M r L ab o uch e re s Views

’ ’
.

Fr o m e x trac t s I have given from t he remarks of

t hese two eminent people the ordinary man
migh t well be inclined to think that the aesthetic
m o vement and the doings of Os car Wilde in his
fi rst period were small and local things This is .

not so and the following carefully compiled lis t

,

will show that it is not so .

The list has been properly inde x ed and is n o w

 Th e Ma n 2 3
given below Afterwards I shall give a small
.

selection from the wi tt icisms of the famous

j ournal to support the b ibliography .

Those students of the work of Oscar W ilde

and his position in modern life will fi n d the
references below of great interest They date .

from 1 8 8 1 to 1 9 06 and those collectors of

,

“
O scarian a and students of Wilde s work will
’

doubtless be able to obtain the numbers in which

the following art icles p o ems and paragraphs
, ,

have appeared .

F e bruary M udl a e on th e Ch i c e o of a Pro fe s

i n s o .

B auty N t at H m
e o o e .

A M audl in B all ad T H i L i ly
e . o s .

Th F i t f M y A ZE th ti
e rs o a . n s e c

R nd au Sub tituti n
o e . s o .

A P add d C ll e e .

D ign f a fE th ti Th at i l
es or n s e c e r ca

P t L t U L iv U p T I t
os er .
“
e s e o .
”

Th G v n G ll y
e ro s e or a er .

F h i abl Nu
as on y Rhym e rse r e .

P hili ti a D fia t
s e n .

M Im p i n By O
o re re ss o s . scuro

Wild g L a F uit d
e Oi
o o se . e es es .

E th ti N t
s e c o es .

JE th tis t A et cs a sc o .

P l F n y P t ait
’
unc z s N 37 a c or r s . o .
,

O . W .
”

S winb u n r e an d W at e r .

M und in g
a er s at M l ar o w .
( y
B Our

Own E sthetic B ard ) .

Au gu t
s
“
Cr q ui s
o
”
by D umb C - ra mb o

J uni r o .
24 O scar W ild e
188 1 — contz nued
'

Au gu t s 2 0, p . 84 . To o -To o Awful . A S onnet f

o

S pt
e e mb er 1 7, p . 1 82 . Im p re ss o i n De L Au t o mn e
’
.

( S tanz as b
y o ur muchly- admired

Oc t ober 1, p . 154 . Th e fEsth e t e t o th e Ro se .

( y
B
Wildegoose afi er Waller ) , .

2 9, p . 2 04 . Sp e c t rum An aly si s
( fi
A er T h e .

by the Wild
”
B urden of I tys ,

Eyed Po et ) .

N v mb
o e er 1 2, p . 228 . A S
or o f ort S t es .

1 9, p . 2 37 . P oe t ’
s C n ;
or er Or, N o nsense
R hymes on We Il l mown - N ames .

24 1 . Th e D ow nf ll a of th e D a o d .

24 2 . Th e o re tik o s . By O sc u ro W ild e
o o se
g .

D e ce mb er 1 0, p . 274 . Im p re ss oh at i n s da T e re .

1 7, 28 8 . Th Tw JE th ti P t
e o s e c oe s .

M P un h “
M th Hu bba d ’
24 , p . 289 . r c s o er r

Fai y Tal G i aw y C h i tm a
r e rn a rs s

C d — ar s
( S nd S. i ) e co er e s .

31, p . 3 09 . M L n gt y a
rs a L dy M a b th r s a c e .

Alm an a k c fo r 1 8 8 2 ( D e c . 6 1 8 8 1 )( p
,
M Im p i n . o re re ss o s
.

( y
B Oscuro Wildegoose ) . D es
S n tt
or e es .

1882

J anua y r 7, p . 10 .
“ A Ne w Dp e tu
ar re .

pp 1 0,
1
. 1 . Cl onin g a
w n d C la i i m ss c s .

p . 1 2 . In Ea n t r es .

14, p . 14 . O a Int vi w d
sc r er e e .

16 E t h ti L adi H ai ’

p . . Z s e c es r .

p . 18 . M u d Mad E a y
r er e s . A B allad ( 2
la M ode By
. B rother Jona
than
”
Wilde .
( With Cart n ) oo .

To An [Esth ti P t e c oe .

Im p i n da Th at
re ss o e re .

Sk t h f m B
e c es ro oz . O scar
W ild a H a ld S kimp e s ro o le .
 Th e Ma n 2 5
1 882 — continued

Fbu y
e r ar 58 . A P t D y A i dn in N
oe
’
s a . ra e ax e s ;

O V y L ik W il
r, er e a a .

49 . D i t in tly P i u P nt mim
s c re c o s a o e .

81 . L in by M Cim bu B wn
es rs a e ro .

Th P t Wild U ki d Ki
’
1 09 . e oe e s n sse sses .

117 . O i n ( ith V i ti n )
ss a W ar a o s .

153 . A P hili tin A E th ts e to h s e e .

15 6 . Th P t W il d
e oe e .

1 68 . Im p i n D G i ty Th eat
re ss o e ae re .

22, p . 1 92 . L ik e ly .

N v mb
o e er 4, p . 216 . No t G n ally Kn wn
e er o .

25, p . 24 9 . W h at ! N S p O o oa r, Po p
G Th L an gt y Bu bbl
oes e r e .

1883

M h arc To B e S o ld .

S age G re e n .
( y
B a F ading-o ut
E sthete .
)
1 2, pp 2 2
. 0-1
. O ur A ad my Gui d N 1 63
c e e . o . .

P iv t F ith Vi w —M mb
r a e r
’
s e . e e rs

f th
o S alvati n A my l d by
e o r , e

G n al O a W ild j inin g in
e er sc r e, o

hymn
a .

S pt mb Th P l y ( t)t h Thin g
'
e e er 1, p . 99 . e a s no e .

N v mb
o e er 3, p . 2 09 . S t ial S w tn a d Li ght
ar o r ee e ss n .

1 0, p . 218 . C unt C i ti i m
o er r c s .

1 7, p . 231 . Ch p T l g m
ea e e ra s.

p . 2 38 . An th Invit ati n t Am ik y
o er o o er a .

24 , p . 24 9 .
“
And i thi Fam P s s e
”

1 8 84

Th eT wn II —B nd S t t
o . . o re e .

Th T wn N XI
e
“
F mo . o . . or .

A L g nd f M d n L nd n
e e o o er o o .

P tI ar .

A L g nd f M d n L nd n
e e o o er o o .

Pa t I I r .
 Th e Ma n 2 7
l 8 92 — continued

M arc h L d or Wilde rm e re ’
s M o th er in
L aw .

P ath ti e c D e scr i p ti n o of th e
P nt at f M G g
re se St e o r e or e

Al n d e xa er

S n —N 1 P iv t
.

St i a rc ase ce es . o .
,
r a e

Vi w R y l A d my
e ,
o a ca e .

Th P l yful S ally
e a .

A D iffi culty .

A W ild e I de a ; O r, M o re Inju ti s ce

to I l nd
re a .

On th e F ly l f ea of an O ld
B k oo .

Ra inc e, W ith th e Chill O ff .

1 9, p . 29 . To Ro m e fo r Si x ee t n Guin a e s .

2 2, p
. 1 89 . Th e B . an d S . D m t thra a a e

Ad l phi e .

2 9, p . 1 93 . St y Th u ght
ra P l y W itin go s on a - r .

p . 1 95 . Th P mi t th H aym k t
e re er a e ar e

l t W dn d y
as e es a

A VV k — f S m Imp t n
.

or o o e or a ce .

W ild Id ; O C
er ti e as r, o nve rsa on as

she is sp oken at the H aymarket .

27, p . 24 6 . A W yld
e V ade ec B
( y M um .

Prof esso r H -
xl-
.
y) .

3, p . 25 7 . S n d Titl
e co P l y at e fo r th e a th e
H ym k t a ar e .

15, p . 13 . A Aft n n P ty
n er oo ar .

15, p . 22 .
“
Th P l y i N t th Thin g
e a s o e .

2 9, p . 46 . At th e T R H . . .

2 6, p . 94 . Still W ild e r Id e as .
( Po ssibilities

f or the next 0 . Wilde Play ) .

D e ce mb er 3 0, pp 3 04 -5
. . New Y e ar s
’
Eve at Latt e y H all rda .

An In id nt c e . D i n G ay
or a r

takin g J uli t in e t D inn

o er .
 O scar W ild e
1 8 94

Blu hing H n u
s o o rs .

Sh N t
e- By B gi a Sm dgi t
o es or u on

Th M in —A P m in P
. .

e x . oe ro se .

O C h ity F t
ur ar e c .

Th O B C ( L imit d )
e . . . e .

Th Blu G a d ni a (A C l
e eabl r e . o our e

I mitatio n .
)
M bid
or ez z a .

N v mb
o e er Th e D e ca d nt Guye s .
( A Co lour

S tudy in G reen Carnations ) .

D e ce mb er Th e T ui m r s s of L ife .
( N t o e

J an ua y r O v h a d F agm nt f a D ia
er e r r e o

l gu o e .

T R m f S i t n Guin a
A p nny P l in—B t O a
o o e or x ee e s .

“
e a u sc r

C l u d
o o re .

F u y
e b r ar A W ild Id al Hu b and e e s .

A G d in th O C
o e s- ar .

Th O W V d M um
e . . a e ec .

Th R iv al e at t h A D C s e . . .

Th Advi ab ility f N t B in g
e s o o e

B n in a H and bag
or .

Th Advant ag f B in g C
e e o e on

i t nt
s s e .

A p il F l ph y (By O f
r o o o so . ne o

Them ) .

Th e L n g and S h t
o or of It .

C n o ce r nin g
d T m; a Mi u s se er vi z .

A t a r ntly ap pli d t
,
s re c e e o a

certain f m f Lit atu or o er re .

J anna y r 3, p
. 18 . O ur B king O fli oo -
ce .
( R . 1
1m .

S h d Tm e rar
”
’
s ent
y Years
Paris )
 Th e Ma n 2 9
This lis t at leas t spells and spelt celebrity and, ,

a recognition of the importance of the E sthetic

movement .

E specially did the American lecturing tour of

Oscar Wilde excite the comment and ridicule of
Pu nch .

I quote some paragraphs from a pretended

”
despatch from an American correspondent .

’
A P OE T S DAY
(F ro m an A meri can Co rresp o nde nt )

OS CAR AT B RE A KF A S T ! O S CA R AT L UN HE N C O
OS CA R AT D IN NER O S CA R AT S U PPE R lI

You see I am after all but m ortal remarked

, , ,

the Poet with an ineffable affable smile as he

, ,

looked up from an elegant but substantial dish

of ham and eggs Passing a long willowy hand
.
,

through his waving hair he swept away a stray ,

curl paper with the n o nchalance of a D O R S A Y

-
’
.

After this e ffort M r W I L D E expressed himself

,

as feeling somewhat faint ; and with a half ,

apologetic smile ordered another portion of

,

HAM A ND E G G S

in the evident enj oyment of which after a brief ,

interchange of international courtesies I left the ,

Poet .

The irresponsible but not ungenial and quite

3 0 O sc ar W ild e
legitimate fun of this is a fairly representative
indication of the way in which the young Apos t le
”
of Beauty was thought of in England during
his American Visit .

The writer goes on to tell how la t er in the ,

“
day he once more encountered the young
,

”
patron of C ulture .It is astonishing to u s now
to realise how even t he word culture was dis
t o rt e d from its real meaning and made into the

badge of a certain set A t an yrat e M r Punch s

.
,
’

contributor goes o n t o say that Oscar was

“ ”

found at the business premises o f t he

CO -
O PE R AT I V E D R E S S AS S O C IATI O N .

On this occasion the Poet by special request , ,

appeared in the uniform of an English O ffi c e r of

the Dragoon Guards the dress I understand
, , ,

being supplied for the occasion from the elegant

wardrobe of M r D O Y L E Y CA RTE S Patience
’
“ ’ ”

C ompany .

S everal ladies expressed their disappointment

at the in suffi cie nt leanness of the Poet s figu re ’

whereupon his Business Manager e x plained that

he belonged to the fles b y school .

To accommodate M r W I L D E the ordinary lay ,

figure s were removed from the showroom and , ,

after a sumptuous luncheon to which the elite of

,

Miss s customers were invited

’
the dis ,

t ingu ish e d guest posed with his fair hostess in an

allegorical tableau representing E nglish Po etry
,
 Th e Ma n 3 1

ex ten ding the ri

ght han d to A merican Co m
merce .

This is indeed Fair Trade remarked M r ,

Wilde lightly and i m mediately improvised a

,

testimonial advertisement (in verse ) in praise of

s patent dre s
’
Miss s improver -
.

A t a dinner given by JE M M Y C RO W D E R
( as we familiarly call him ) the Apologist of Art ,

had dis carded his military garb for the ordinary

dress of an
ENG L I S H GENT L EMA N
in which his now world famed knee breeches - -

form a conspicuous item suggesting indeed the ,

Admiral s uniform in M r D O Y L E Y CA R TE S
’ ’ ’

“
Pinafore com b ination .

I think said the Poet in a pause b etween

, ,

courses “
one cannot dine too well
,
—placing
everyone at his ease by his admirable tact in
partaking of the thirty six items of the menu -
.

The skit continues wittily enough but it is ,

not necessary to quote more of it The para .

graphs su ffi cie n tly explain the attitude of M r

Punch which was the general attitude at the
,

time .

I t was hammered in persistently Oscar .

Interviewed appeared under the date of J anu ary

1 8 8 2 and again in the following e x tracts the
, ,

reader will recognise the same not e .

3 2 O sc a r W ild e
D E TE RM I N E D to anticipate the rabble o f
penny a liners ready t o pounce upon any distin
- -

g u ish e d foreigner who approaches our shores and ,

eager to assist a sensitive Poe t in avoi ding the im

pertinent curiosity and ill bred insolence ofthe Pro -

fe ssio n al R eporter I t ook the fastest pilot boat

,
-

on the station and boarded t he splendid C unard

,

steamer the R oshm a in the shucking of a peanut

'

, , .

H I S E S THE T I C A PPE A R AN CE
H e stood with his large hand passed through
,

his long hair against a high chimney piece

,
-

which had been painted pea green with panels -

,

of peacock blue pottery let in at uneven intervals

-

one elbow on the high ledge t he other hand ,

on his hip H e was dressed in a long snu ff

.
,

coloured single breas t ed coat which reached to

,
-
,

his heels and was relieved with a sealskin collar

,

and cu ffs rather the worse for wear Frayed .

linen and an orange silk handkerchief gave a

, ,

no t e to the generally artistic colouring of the

ensemble while one small daisy drooped de spo n
,

de ntly in his buttonhole We may state .

that the chimney piece as well as the sealskin

-
,

collar is the property o f O S C A R and will appear

, ,

in his L ectures on the Growth of Artistic

Taste in England .

H E S PE AKS FOR H IM SE L F
Ye s I should have b een as t onished had I not
 Th e M an 33
been interviewed Indeed I have not been well ,

on board this Cunard A rgosy I have wrestled .

with the glau ko u s haired Poseidon and feared-

,

his ravishment Quite : I have been too ill to o

—
.
,

u t t e rly ill E xactly seasick in fact if I must

.
,

descend to so trivial anexpression I fear the .

clean beauty of my strong limbs is somewhat

. a —
waned I m scarcely myself my nerves are
thrilling like throb bing Violins in exquisite -

pulsation .

You are right I believe I was the first t o

.

devote my subtle brain chords to the worship -

of the S u nflo we r and the apotheosis of the

,

delicate Tea pot I have ever been j asmine

-
.

cradled from my youth Eons ago I might .

,

’
say centuries in 7 8 when a student at Oxford
, , ,

I had trampled the Vintage of my babyhoo d ,

and trod the thorn spread heights of Poesy I - .

had stood in the Arena and t o m the bays from

the expiring at hletes my competitors , .

L E C TU R E P R O S PE CT S
Yes I expect my L ecture will be a success .

S o does D O L L A R C A R TE
’
I mean D O Y L E Y
C A R TE Too Toothless S enility may j eer and
.
-
,

poor positive Propriety may shake her rusty curls ;

,

but I am here in my creamy lustiho o d t o pipe o f ,

’
Passion s venturous Poesy and reap the scorch ,

ing harvest of S elf L o ve ! I am n o t qui t e sure

-

C
 Th e Ma n 35
The mock interviews in Pun ch which have
been quoted from are really no very wide depar
tures from the real thing A year or two after
.

the fE sth e tic movement was not so prominent in

the public eye as was t he success of Wilde as a
writer of plays an actual interview with him
,

appeared in a well known weekly paper in W hich

-

he talked not much less extravagantly than he

was caricatured as talking in Pu nch A play of .

his had been produced and while it was a com

,

p le t e and satisfying success it had been assailed

,

in that unfortunately hostile way by the critics

to which he was accustomed .

H e was asked what he thought a bout the

attitude of the critics towards his play .

”
For a man to be a dramatic critic he is said ,

“
to have replied is as foolish and inartistic as it
,

would be for a man to b e a critic of epics or a ,

pastoral critic or a critic of lyrics All mode s

, .

of art are one and the modes of the art that

,

employs words as its medium are quite indivis

ible The result of the vulgar specialisation of
.

criticism is an elaborate scie n tifi c knowledge of

the stage—almost as elab orate as that of the
stage carpenter and quite on a par with that of
-

the call boy—combined with an entire incapacity

,

to realise that a play is a work of art or t o ,

receive any artistic impressions at all .

H e was told that he was rat her severe upon

the dramatic critics .
3 6 O sc a r W ild e
English dramatic criticism o f our own day
has never had a single success in spite of the ,

fac t that it goes to all th e first nights was his ,

reply .

Thereupon the in t erviewer suggested that

dramatic criticism was at least influ en tial .

“
C ertainly ; that is why it is so bad he ,

replied and went on to say

,

The moment criticism e x ercises any infl u

ence it ceases to be criticism The aim of the.

tr ue critic is to try and chronicle his own moods ,

not t o t ry and correct the masterpieces of o t hers .

”

R eal cri t ics would b e charming in your eyes ,

t hen ? ”

R eal critics ? Ah how perfectly charming

,

they would b e l I am always waiting for their

arrival A n inaudible school would be nice
. .

Why do you not found it ?

O scar Wilde was asked if there were then , ,

absolutely no critics in L ondon .

“
There are j ust two he answered but re
, ,

fused to give their names The interviewer goes

.

on to recount his exact words

M r W ilde with the elab orate courtesy for
,

which he has always been famous replied I , ,

‘

think I had better not mention their names ;

’
it might make the others so j ealous .

What do the literary cliques think of your

’
plays ?

I don t write t o please cliques ; I write to

’
 Th e M an 37
please myself Besides I have always had grave
.
,

suspicions that the basis of all literary cliques is

a morbid love of meat teas That makes them -
.

sadly uncivilised .
’

Still if your critics o ff end you why don t

, ,
’

you reply to them ?

’

“
‘
I have far too much time But I think .

some day I will give a general answer in the ,

form of a lecture in a public hall which I shall

, ,

call Straigh t Talks to Old Men .

”

What is your feeling t owards your audiences

towards the public 7

Which public ? There are as many publics

as there are personalities .
’

Are you nervous on the night that you are

producing a new play
Oh no I am e x quisitely indifferent My
, .

nervousness ends at the last dress rehearsal ; I

know then what e ffect my play as presented ,

upon t he stage has produced upon me My

, .

in t erest in the play ends there and I feel ,

curiously envious o f the public they have

such wonderful fresh emotions in store for
’
them .

I laughed but M r Wilde rebuked me with a

,

l o ok of s u rprise .

It is the public not the play t hat I desire, ,

’
to make a success he said , .

But I m afraid I don t quite under

’ ’

s t and
3 8 O scar W ild e
The public makes a success when it realises
that a play is a work of art O n the three fi rst .

nights I have had in L ondon the public has

been most successful and had the dimensions
,

of the stage admitted of it I would have called ,

them before the curtain Most managers I .

,

believe call them behind

, .

There are pages more of this sort of thing and ,

the earlier and pretended interview in Pu nch

di ffers a little in peri o d bu t very little in manner
from this real interview .

Pu n ch continued its gibes during the whole

time of the fi rst period R eally witty parodies
.

of O scar Wilde s poems and plays appeared from

’

time to time Pictures of him were drawn in

.

caricat ure by well kn o wn artists It was the

-
.

same in almost every society The band of .

enthusias t s listened to the message but gave ,

more prominence t o the poses and e xt rava

gances which accompanied it The message .

was obscured and it was the fault of Oscar

Wilde s eccen trici t y
’
.

We are reaping t he be n e fit o f it all now at ,

present I am merely the chronicler of opinion

when the movemen t was in what the u no b
servant thought was its heyday but which has ,

proved to be its infancy .

The chorus of dislike and mistrust was almost

universal A t O xford itself popularly supposed
. ,

t o be a s tr ongh old o f aes theticism at the time ,

 Th e Ma n 39
a debate on the question t oo k place at the Union .

A very prominen t undergraduate of the day ,

M r J A Simon of Wadham C ollege re fl e ct e d

. .
, ,

the bulk of O xford opinion when he spoke as

foll o ws
“
M r J A S imon ( Wadham ) said he felt
. .

nervous for it was an e x traordinary occasion for

,

him to be on the side that would gain a maj ority .

H e did not consider that the m oti o n had at

all t he meaning the mover gave it H e quite .

agreed with him as to the advances made in

the illustrated press and other things and
, ,

that many of these selected changes were good .

The motion however evidently referred to the

, ,

m o vement headed by O scar Wilde and re pre ,

sented by such things as the Yellow Book etc ,

’
.

H e always thought that the mover was most

nat ural when he was on the stage (applause )
and they had all been given pleasure by his im
personations (a p plause ) H e believed though
.
, ,

that he had been ac ting that night and the ,

speaker quoted from the speeches of Bassanio

passages which he considered described the way
t he mover had led them o ff the scent H e .

intended to discuss the mat ter seriously As a .

b o ok entitled D egeneracy pointed out the ;

‘
’

new movement was the outcome of a craving

for novelty and the absurdities in connection I
,

with it would do credit to a madhouse People .

were eccen tric in t he hope tha t t hey would be

 O scar W ild e
taken to be original ( applause ) It was not a .

development at all ; it was but a j erk or twitch

ing the work of a moment O scar Wilde h ad
, .

actually signed his name to a most awful pun ,

as those who had seen The Importance O f ‘

Being E arnest would understand The writer s .

’

many epigrams were doubtless clever for next ,

to pretending to be drunk pret ending to be ,

mad was the mos t diffi cult ( applause ) The .

process was t o turn a proverb upside down ,

and t here was the epigram Then Aubrey .

Beardsley s figure s if they showed anything

’

, ,

showed e x traordinary development ; t hey cer

t ainly were not delicate ; in fact he should call ,

them dis t inctly indelicate For one thing such

.
,

creatures never existed and i t was a species of

,

art that was absolutely imbecile Oscar W ilde .

,

though had said that until we see things as they

,

are no t we never really live But all he could .

say was that he hoped he shoul d never live

( applause ) .I t was really no t art at all for art ,

was nearly allied t o nature although Oscar ,

Wilde said that the only connecting link was

a really well made b uttonhole That sort of
-
.

thing was the art of being brilliantly absurd

( applause ) .It was in sign ifi c an t to lay claim
to manners on the ground of personal appear
ance ; such were no t manners but mannerisms .

Aubrey B eardsley s fi gure s were but a manner

’

ism o f this s o rt (app lause ) A develo p men t m us t

.
 Th e Ma n
be new and permanent and the pictures referred ,

to were not new for similar ones could be found

,

on the old Egyptian monuments (applause ) .

This cult were not even original individually for ,

where one led all the rest followed O scar Wilde .

talked about a purple sm : the others did the

same B y the by that remark was not original
.
- -
, ,

for scarlet sins had been mentioned in very early

days ; it was indeed all of it but a resuscitation of
what was old and had been long left behind by
the res t of the world (applause ) The movement .

was not permanent as migh t be seen by the ,

ae sthetic cra z e of fi fte e n years ago V elvet coats .

and peacock feathers were dying out and soon ,

it would not be correct to wear t he hair long

(laughter )
. It was b u t a phase ; if everyone
were to talk in epigrams i t would be distin
g u ish e d to talk sense H e was in a diffi cu lt y
.
,

for if he got a large maj ority against the motion ,

to be in a minority was j ust what would please

the aesthetes most Therefore let as few vo t e
.
,

against as possible (laughter ) To be serious .

,

he considered that true art should give pleasure

and comfort to people who were in trouble or
d o wn in the world and who he asked would
, , ,

be helped by the art o f e ither Aubrey Beardsley

o r Oscar Wilde (applause ) In conclusion he
? .
,

would ask the House to give the movers the

satisfaction of having as few as possi ble vo t ing
for them (app lause ) .
 Th e M an 43
.

moaned money must be earned and he earned

, ,

it faithfully under a discipline It is a specula .

tion not without interest when we wonder to

what heights such a man might not have risen if
a discipline such as this had been more continuous .

L ord of himself that heritage of woe sang

, ,

L ord Byron well aware from personal e xpe ri

,

ence of the constant dangers the almost certain ,

shipwreck that the life of perfect freedom has for

such as he was and for such a t emperament as
,

’
Wilde s also .

Oscar was living in a beautiful house at Chelsea ,

and it is a remarkable instance of how surely the

fi rst period had merged into the second when
we fin d that the decorations of his home were
beautiful indeed but not much like those he had
,

preached about and insis t ed o n in his ae s t hetic

lectures and writings .

There was an utter lack of so called ae sthetic -

colouring in the house where M r and Mrs Wilde

had made their home The s cheme consisted
.
,

indeed of faded and delicate brocades against a

, ,

background of white or cream pain t ing and was ,

French rather than English .

R are engravings and etchings formed a deep

frieze along two sides of the drawing room and -
,

stood out on a dull gold background while the

-
,

only touches of bright colour in t he apartment

were lent by two splendid Japan ese feathers let
into the ceiling while ab o ve the white carved
, , ,
 O scar W ild e
mantelpiece a gilt copper bas relief by D onaghue
,
- -
, ,

made living O scar W ilde s fi n e verses “

Re
’

q u ie sc at .

Not the least interesting work of art in this

characteristic sitting room was a quaint harmony
-

in greys and browns purport ing t o be a portrait

,

of the master of the house as a youth a painting

which was a wedding present from M r Harper
Pennington the American artist , .

The house could boast of an e x ceptionally

choice gallery of contemporary art C lose to a .

number of studies of V enice presented by M r ,

Whistler himself hung an exquisite pen and ink

,
- -

illus t ration by Walter Crane A n etching of .

’
Bastien L e Page s portrait of S arah Bernhardt
con t ained in the m argin a few kindly words
written in English by the great tragedienne .

Mrs Oscar Wilde herself had strong ideas upon

house decoration S he once t old an inquirer that
.

no one who has not t ried them knows the

value of uniform tints and a quiet scheme of
colouring One of the mos t e ffective e ffects in
.

house decoration can be o btained by having say , ,

the sitting room pure cream or white with

-
, ,

perhaps a dado of si x or seven feet from the

,

ground In an apartment of this kind ample

.
,

colouring and variety will be introduced by the

furniture engravings and carpet ; in fact but
, , ,

for the trou ble of keeping white walls in L ondon

clean I do not t hink t here can be any thing
,
 T he Ma n 45
.

prettier and more practical than this mode o f

decoration for it is both uncommon and easy to
,

carry out I am not one of those continued

.
,

Mrs W ilde who believe that beauty can only

“
,

b e achieved at considerable cost A cottage .

parlour may b e and often is more beautiful , , ,

with its unconsciously achieved harmonies and

soft colouring than a great reception room
,
-
,

arranged more with a View to producing a

m agnifi c e nt e ffect But I repeat of late people
.
, , ,

in their wish to decorate their homes have ,

blended various periods colourings and designs , ,

each perhaps beautiful in itself but producing ,

an unfortunate e ffect when placed in j uxta

position I obj ect also to historic schemes of
.

decoration which nearly always make one think

,

of the upholsterer and not of the owner of the ,

”
house .

In conj unction with her hus band Mrs Wilde ,

had also thought out the right place of fl o we rs

in the decoration of a house S he would say .

I t is impossible to have too man y fl o we rs in a

ro o m and I think that scattering cut blossoms
,

on a tablecloth is both a foolish and a cruel

custom for long before dinner is over the poor
,

things begin to look painfully parched and

thirsty for want of water A few deli cate .

fl o we rs in plain glas s vases produce a prettier

e ffect than a great number of nosegays and ,

yet even t hough people may see that something

,
4 6 O sc ar W ild e
is wrong many do not realis e h o w easily a
,

ch arming e ff ect might be produced with the

same materials somewhat di fferently disposed .

A J apan e se native room for e x ample is fur , ,

n ish e d with dainty simplicity and one flower ,

and one pot supply the J ap s ae sthe t ic longing ’

for decoration When he gets tired of his flower

.

and his pot he pu t s them away and seeks for

, ,

some other scheme of colour produced by equally

simple means .

Oscar Wilde now b egan to take a de finit e

place in the English social world His wit his .
,

brilliance of conversat ion his singular charm of ,

manner all combined to render him a welcome

guest and in many cases a valued friend in
, ,

circles where distinction of intellec t and charm

of personality are the only passports H e began .

to make money and to indulge a natural taste

for profusion and splendour Y e t let it be said .
,

here and said with emphasis that greatly as he

, ,

desired and acquired the elegances of life in

, , ,

creasing fortune found him as kind and generous

as before I t is a known fac t that he gave away
.

large sums of money to those less fortunate in

the e ffort to make an income by artistic pursuits .

His purse was always open to the str uggling and

the unhappy and his infl u e nc e constantly e x erted
on their behalf .

S uddenly all L o ndon was captured by t he

brilliant m o dern comedies he b egan t o wri t e .
 Th e Ma n
Success of the completest kind had arrived the ,

poe t s name was in everyone s mouth C uriously

’ ’
.

enough it is the French s t udents of Wilde s ’

career who have paid the most attention t o

Wilde in this second period The man of .

society the witty talker the maker of epigrams

, ,

Wilde at his apogee j ust before his fall this—

is the picture on which the L atin psychologis t s
have liked to dwell .

In our days the mas t er of repart ee and the

,

after dinner speaker is foredoomed to forgetful

-

ness for he always stands alone and to gain

, ,

applause has to talk down to and flatter lower

class audiences No writer of blood curdling
.
-

melodramas no weaver of newspaper novels is

,

o bliged to lower his t alen t so much as the pro

fe ssio n al wit If the genius of Mallarm e was
.

obscured by the fl att e re rs t hat surrounded him ,

’
how much more was Wilde s talent overclouded
by the would be witty shoddy elegant and
- -
,
-
,

cheaply poetical society hangers o u who covered

- -
,

him with incense We are told that the first

.

attempts of the sparkling talker were by no

means successful in the Parisian salons .

In the house of V ictor Hugo seeing he must ,

wait to let the veteran sleep out his nap whilst

others among the guests slumbered also he made ,

up his mind to astonish them H e succeeded .

,

but at what a cost ! Although he was a verse

writer most sinc e rely dev o t ed t o poe t ry and art
, ,
 O scar W ild e
and one of the mos t emotional and sensitive and
tender hearted am o ngst modern wielders of the
-

pen he succeeded in gaining only a reputation

,

for art ifi ciality .

We all know his studied parado x es his fi v e or ,

six continually repeated tales but we are tempted

,

to forget the charming dreamer who was full of

tenderness for everythin g in nature .

Thus M C harles G ro lle au and there is much

.
,

in his point of view The writer of The Happy

.

” ”
Prince and The House of Pomegranates is
a different person from the paradoxical causeur
wh o went cometlike through a few L ondon and
Paris seasons b efore disappearing into the dark
ness of space .

And it was the encouragement and applause

b estowed upon Oscar Wilde during the second
period that not only co nfirm e d him in his deter
mination to live as the complete fi anei i r but ,

which preven t ed even sympathetic critics from

appreciating his work at its true worth .

The late M Hugues R ebell who knew him

.
,

fairly intimat ely said o f him

,

I t is true that Mallarm e has not written

much b ut all he has done is valuable S ome
, .

of his verses are most beautiful whilst Wilde ,

seemed never to fi n ish anything The works of .

the English ae sthete are very interesting ,

because they characterise his epoch ; his pages

are use ful from a documentary point of view ,
 Th e Ma n 49
but are not e x traordinary fr o m a literary stand
point In the D uchess o f Padua he imitates
.
‘
,
’

Hugo and Sardou ; the Picture o f D orian ‘

Gray was inspired by Huysmans ; Inten t ions

’

is a vade mecum of symbolism and all the ideas ,

contained therein are to be found in Mallarm e

and V illiers de l I sle Adam
’
As for Wilde s ’
-
.

poetry it closely follows the lines laid down by

,

Swinburne His most original comp o sition is

.

‘
Poems in Prose They give a correc t idea of
.
’

his home chat but not when he was at his best ;

-
,

that no doubt is because the art of talking must

, ,

always be inferior to any form of lit erary com

position Thoughts properly set fort h in print
.

after due correction must always be more

charming than a fin ely sketched idea hurriedly
enunciated when conversing with a few disciples .

In ordinary table talk we meet nothing more -

than ghosts of new born ideas foredoomed t o -

perish The j okes of a wit s eldom survive the

.

speaker When we quote the epigrams of

.

Wilde it is as if we were exhibiting in a glass

,

case a collection of beautiful butt e rflie s whose ,

wings have lost the brilliancy of their once

gaudy colours L ively talk pleases because o f
.
,

the man who utters it and we are impressed also ,

by the gestures which accompany his frothy dis

course What remains of the sprightly quips
.

and anecdotes of such celebrat ed hommes d esp rit ’

as S choll Becque Barbey d A u re villy ! S ome

, ,
’

D
 Th e 5 M an I

intelligence was great er and his power beyond

the general measure This much and no more
. .

’
We have seen that the great fault of Wilde s
career up to this period was that of an u n co n
q u e rab le egoism H e was comple
. x only because
such mighty gifts as those with which he was
dowered were united to a temperament naturally
gracious kindly and that of a gentleman in the
, ,

best sense of the word while both were o b scured

,

by a self appreciation and c o n fi de n ce which

-

reached not only the heights of absurdity but

surely impinged upon the borders of mental
failure As he himself said over and over again
.

after his downfall he had nobody but himself

,

to blame for it Generous hearted free with all

.
-
,

material things kind to the unfortunate gentle

, ,

—
to the weak O scar Wilde was all these things .

Yet at the same time he committed the most

, ,

dreadful crimes against the social well being ; -

without a thought of those his in fl u e n c e led into

terrible paths without a thought of those neares t
,

and dearest to him he deliberately imposed upon

,

them a horror and a shame with an extraordinary

and almost un p aralleled callousness and hardness
of heart .

Bound up in the one man were the twin

natures of an angel of light and an angel of dark .

It is the same with all men but never perhaps ,

in the history of the world certainly never in ,

the history of lit erat ure is there to be found a ,

5 2 O sca r W ild e
con trast s o as t o nishing I t is not fo r t h e writer
.

of this study t o hold the balance and to say

which part of his nature predominat ed Opinion .

about him is s t ill divided in t o two camps and ,

this book is a statement fr o m which everyone

can draw his own conclusion and does not ,

attempt t o do more than provide the materials

for doing so Yet the explanation of it all
.
, ,

if explanation t here is seems simple enough

,
.

There was an extraordinary and a bnormal divorce

b etween will power and intelligence
-
Heavy .

indulgence grew and grew and gradually o b

scure d the fi ne r na t ure until he imagined his will

was supreme and his wishes the only law The .

royal intellect dominated the soul and grew by

what it fed o u until it unsea t ed the reason and
, ,

Wilde fell never to rise again excep t only in his ,

work .

A t the end of the second period came the

frightful exposure and scandals which sent the
author into prison It is no part of this book to
.

touch upon these scandals or to do more than

breathe the kindly hope that Wilde was u n
conscious of what he did and was totally in cap,

able of realising it s enormi ty .

The third period in this attempt at chronic

,

ling the various phases of his life and tempera

ment might be said to have begun on the day
,

of his arrest when his long agony and punish

,

men t were to begin Greatly as he deserved a

.
 Th e Ma n 53
heavy punishment no t s o much as for what he
,

did to himself but because of the corrupting

infl u en ce his life and ass o ciati o n with o thers had
up o n a large section of society it is yet a moot
,

poin t whether he did not suffer for others and

was made their scapegoat The true history of
.

this terri ble period cannot be written and n ever

will be written Ye t those who kn o w it in its
.
,

entirety will say that Wilde b o re the penalty for

the transgressions of many other people in addi
ti o n t o the j ust punishmen t he received for his
o wn.

Few no bler things can be said of any man

than this L e t it be e t ernally placed t o his
.

credit that he made no endeavour to ligh t en

his own punishment by implicating others In .

more than o ne instance the betrayal of a friend

would undou btedly have lessened the cumulative
burden of the indictment brought against him .

H e be t rayed none of his friends .

THE THI R D PE R I O D

This beautiful thread of brigh tness in the

dark warp and woof of Wilde s life a t this ’

moment must not be forgott en by those who

would estimate his charac t er It is one of the
.

few relieving lights in the blackness with which

the t hird period O pens And yet there is still
.
,
 54. O sca r W ild e
something that can be said for Wilde at t his
time which certainly provides the s t udent with
another aspect of him It is t he way in which
.

he met his fate and was prepared to endure his

punishment although it would have been simple
,

for him to have avoided it To avoid the co u se .

u e n c e s of what he had done inasmuch as the

q ,

ruin of his career is concerned was of course , , ,

impossible That indeed was to be the heaviest

.
, ,

part of his penalty Yet had he so chosen

.
, ,

imprisonment and the frightful agony of the two

years need never have been his portion A .

French critic writing of him in the M ercure

de F rance takes an analytical view of this
fact which I do not think is the true one
, ,

though nevertheless it is interesting H e says

, , .

“
Neither his own heedlessness nor the envious
and hypocritical anger of his enemies n o r the ,

snobbish cr uelty of social reprobation were the

true cause of his misfortunes It was he himself .

who aft er a t ime of horrible anguish consented

, ,

t o his punishmen t wi th a sort of supercilious

,

disdain for t he weakness of human will and out ,

of a certain regard and unhealthy curiosity for

the sportfulness of fate Here was a voluptuary
.

seeking for torture and desiring pain after having

wallowed in every sensual pleasure C an such .

c o nduct have been due t o aught else but sheer

madness
That is all very well b ut it d o es n o t b ear th e
,
 Th e M an 55
stamp of truth It is an in t eresting point of
.

View and nothin g more The condu ct of Wilde

.

when he at last came athwart the horror of his

destiny when he reali sed what all the world
,

realised that he must answer for his sins before

,

the public j ustice of England was not unheroic , ,

nor without a h ue and splendid dignity A t .

this time I would much prefer to say and all ,

the experiences o f those around him co nfirm it ,

that Wilde knew that it was his duty to him

self to endure what society was about t o mete
out to him To say that he was a mere gloomy
.

and j aded voluptuary who wished to taste the

pleasures of the most horrible and sordid pain is ,

surely to talk something perilously like nonsense ,

though full of one of those minute psychological

presumptions s o dear to a certain type of L atin
mind .

L e t it be remembered t hat Oscar Wilde

refused to betray his friends and in the light of
,

that fact let u s see whether his motive for

,

“
remaining in England to face the music as ,

his brother Wi lliam Wilde expressed it was

, , ,

not something high and worthy in the midst of

this hideous wreck and bankruptcy of his fortune .

A friend who was with him then his biographer , ,

and a man o f p o sition in English letters said ,

that when the subj ect of flight was discussed he ,

declared to Wilde that in his opinion it was the

, ,

best thing he could d o n o t o nly in his own

,
5 6 O sc ar W ild e
in t erests but in th o se of the public t oo This .

self sacrifi cing friend o ffered t o take all t he

-

responsibility of the fligh t upon his own sh o ulders

and to make all the arrangement s for it being
carried out .

It must b e remembered that at the time Wilde ,

was out on bail and it has since been proved

, ,

with as much certainty as anything of the sort

can be proved that he was not watched by the
,

police and t hat even between the periods of his

,

first and second trials if he had secretly left the,

c o un try and sought a safe asylum o n the C on t in

ent everybody would have felt relieved and the
,

public would have b een spared a repetition of

t he horrors which had already fille d the pages
of the newspapers to repletion After the col .

lapse o f the action O scar Wilde brought against

L o rd Queensberry he was allowed several hours
,

b efore the warrant for his arrest was executed in

o rder that he might leave the country But .

imitative of great men in their whims and fancies ,

he re fused t o imitat e the base in acts which b e

deemed c o wardly I do not think he ever .

seriously considered the question of leaving the

coun try and this in spite of the fact that the
, ,

gentleman who was responsi ble for almost the

wh o le of the bail had said it will practically
, ,
‘

ruin me if I lose all that money at the present

m o men t but if there is a chance even after c o n
, ,

victio n in God s name le t him go

’ ’
.
,
 Th e Ma n 57
What ever Wilde s motive was for s t aying t o
’

“
face the music we canno t deny that it was
,

fi ne
. Either he felt that he mus t endure the
punishment s o ciety was t o give him because he
had outraged the law of socie ty or else he was ,

unwilling to ruin the disin t erested and no ble

minded man — a gentleman who had only the

slightest acquaintance wit h him who had

furnished the amount of his bail .

L e t these facts be writ t en to his credi t and

considered when the readers of this memoir pass
their j udgment upon his charac t er .

A t the beginning of this third period public

opinion which but a shor t time ago had simply
, ,

meant a chorus of public adulation e x cept for ,

a minority of people who either envied his suc

cesses or honestly reprobated his attitude towards
art and life was now terribly bit t er venomous
, , ,

and full of spleen and hatred .

S ociety however much s o ciety was disposed to

,

deny the fac t had set up an idol in their midst

, .

It was partly owing to the senseless and indis

criminate adulation of its idol that its foundations
were undermined and that it fell with so resonant
a crash When it was down society assailed it
.

with every ingenuity of reprobation and hatred

that it knew how to voice and use .

Nothing was too bad t o be said about the

ers twhile favourite who let it be remem b ered
, ,

was not yet adj udged guilty bu t who if ever a ,

 Th e 59 M an
morbid minded and the lovers of sensat i o n at
-

any cost .

Figuratively speaking but yes t erday O scar

Wilde was the man of the hour and to him and , ,

him alone we looked for our wit our epigrams

, , ,

and our learned and interesting plays B ut what .

a change ! To day Oscar Wilde the wit the

-
, , ,

epicure is gone from his world and is languishing

, ,

in a dreary cell in Holloway Prison In short .

,

M r Wilde in a moment of weak headedness

,
-
,

walked over the side of the mountain of fame

and fell headlong from its height to the morass
below to lie there forgotten neglected and
, ,

abused .

Yes although I have little or no sympathy

,

with Oscar Wilde I cannot bu t help feeling for

him in his altered circumstances H e is a man .

who from his very infancy has been nurse d in the

lap of luxury and has systematically lived on the
,

fat of the land M r Wilde s residence in Tite

’
.

Street was elegantly and lu x uriously furnished .

His rooms at the C adogan Hotel were all that

comfort could desire His room or rather cell .
, ,

in Holloway Prison is altogether undesirable is ,

badly furnished ill lighted and uncomfortable

,
-
, .

—
Picture to yourself this change yes a change
—
,

e ffected within twenty four hours and then you -

can imagine what the mental and physical su ffer

ings of a man of the Oscar Wilde temperament
must b e It is in t his sense alone t hat my
.
60 O scar W ild e
sympathy goes out t owards him and I feel as a ,

man for ano ther man who has been suddenly

snatched from the lap of indolent free liveliho o d ,

and suddenly pitched foremost int o the icelike

crevasse of a British prison cell .

I will n o w de scrib e in as few words as I po ssibly

can but with absolute accuracy and de t ail the
, ,

cell in which M r Wilde spends his time and the

manner in which he lives The cell in which .

Os car is incarcerated is not an ordinary one t hat—

is it is not one that is used by any condemned
,

or ordinary prisoner under remand The cell is .

known in prison p arlance as a special cell for ,

’

the use of which a fee is payable to the au thorities ,

and is the same one as was occupied by a cer t ain

well known D uchess some few months back when
-

she was committed by the Queen s Bench J u dge s ’

for contempt of court The prison authorities

.

only supply t he cell the prisoner himself h as

,
’

to fi nd his own furniture which he usually hires

, ,

by the advice of one of the warders from a local ,

fi rm who have a suite they keep for t he use of

this special cell in Holloway When M r .

Wilde arrived at the prison last Saturday week

afternoon this cell was vacant H e promptly .

ga ve orders for the furniture to be brought in ,

and in an incredibly short space of time the cell

was furnished and the distinguished prisoner
,

took possession of his apartment I will fi rst .

describe the room and t hen t ake one typical day

,
 Th e Ma n 6I
in the prison routine which will clearly show ,

the kind of life that M r Wilde is compelled to

live.

“
Now to the cell The room is situated at.

the far end of the east wing of the prison and is ,

entered from the long passage which runs from

the head warder s rooms past the convict cells
’

and terminates at the door which protects O scar

from t he common herd and helps to make him ,

secure The door is an ordinary prison cell door

.
,

possessing spyholes and fl aptrap and large iron ,

bars and locks The cell itself is about 1 0 ft broad

. .
,

1 2 ft long and 1 1 ft high

.
, The walls are not . .

papered but whitewashed and the light by which ,

the room is supplied is obtained through an iron

barred window in the wall placed high up and
well out of the prisoner s reach A small fire ’
.

place is also fi x e d securely at the end of the room ,

but it is seldom li t as the room is well heated ,

by hot water pipes Now to the furniture in the

-
.

room J ust on the right hand side of the window

.
-

is placed a table made of hard white wood No , .

cloth covers it but at the back is placed a looking

,

glass whilst on the table itself is a water j ug and

,

a Bible Near the table and almost under the

.

window is an arm chair in which O scar spends -

,

most of his time B ut more of this anon In

. .

the corner near the fire place is placed a small

camp bedstead which is so small that it seems
,

almost an impossibility that so massive a form as

62 O sc a r W ild e
that of O scar could recline with any ease up o n
so small a space No feather bed is upon the
.

iron supports and the sleeper is compelled to

—
,

—
repose upon hard pro b ably too hard mat
tresses The bed is supplied with sheets blankets
.
, ,

and a cover quilt made up of patches of all ,

colours of the rainbow This quilt is not pretty .

,

and most considerably upsets the artistic being

of a man like Wilde A small table on the .

o t h e r side o f the room another chair and a small

‘

, ,

metal washing stand go to make up all the ,

furniture the room possesses No carpet is on .

the floor but the boards are kept s crupulously

,

clean This I think brie fly comprises a de scrip

.

tion of M r Wilde s residential and sleeping com

’

a rt m e nt Now to his daily routine and the

p .

life he is compelled to lead H e is awakened by .

a warder at six o clock and whether he likes it

’

or not is compelled to ge t up After washing

, .

—
himself in cold water hot is not permitted and —
u sing ordinary common soap M r Wilde dresses ,

himself and to do him j ustice he turns himself

, ,

out very neat and span considering he has no

valet to wait upon him A t seven o clock one .
’

of the convicted prisoners enters M r Wilde s cell ’

cleans up the room makes the bed and generally

, ,

tidies up the place For this service the prisoner

.

receives l s per week and it usually takes him

.
,

quite half an ho ur per day t o get through his

- -

work . Truly a m u n ifi c e nt remuneration but ,

 Th e Ma n 63
then prison regulations whenever reasonable are , ,

on the side of liberality A t half past seven .

-

o clock Wilde s breakfast usually consisting of

’ ’

tea h am and eggs or a chop toast and bread and

, , ,

butter arrives from a well known restaurant in

,
-

Holloway O f c o urse M r Wilde pays for t he

.

food and within reason can eat and drink what

, , ,

he pleases .

“
A t nine o clock M r Wilde is compelled to
’

leave his cell and proceed to the e x ercising

,

yard of the prison and for one hour he is com,

e lle d to walk at regulation pace round a kind

p
of tower erected in the centre of the yard .

After exercise the distinguished prisoner returns

to his cell and the daily newspapers are brought
,

to him for which he also pays M r Wil de sits

, .

during the time he is in his cell in the chair

by the window and then reads his papers H e
, .
,

however has moments of very low spiritednes s

,
-
,

and becomes almost despondent in the moods .

The sketch in this issue represents him seated in

his favourite chair with a paper in his hand and , , ,

after an interview with his solicitor M r Wilde is ,

very fond when his active brain is working too

,

deeply to push back his hair from o ff his fore

,

head and then leave the hand on the head and , ,

as if staring into vacancy sit for hours in this ,

position thinking deeply But to continue at .

, ,

twelve o clock M r W ilde s lunch arrives from

’ ’

the restaurant for which he pays It consists

, .
64. O sc ar W ild e
o f a cut o ff t he j oint vegetables cheese and , , ,

biscuits and water or o ne glass of wine After

, .

lunch he is again taken to the e x ercise ground

for an hour and then sent back to his cell
, .

Still seated in his chair he still reads his papers , ,

and thinks out improbable problems S ome .

times one of his friends comes to see him O u .

these occasions he brightens up but after the ,

Visits of his solicit or he is visibly very low

spirited and morose A t si x o clock M r Wilde s ’ ’

—
.

dinner for which he pays arrive s It consis t s fi

usually of s o up fi sh j oin t or game cheese and

, , , , ,

half a pint of any wine he chooses t o select

- -
.

The dinner fi nish e d M r Wilde sits again in his

,

chair and the agony he endures at not being

,

allowed even a whi ff at his favourite cigarette

’
must to him be agony indeed A t eight o clock .

a warder enters his room and places a lamp on

the table t o ligh t the room A t nine o clock .
’

the same warder again enters the room and gives

Oscar fi ve minutes to undress himself and get
into be d H e complies willingly but with a
.

sigh When he is safely in bed the warder

.

removes the lamp b olts and locks the door , ,

and leaves O scar to sleep or remain awake think

ing j ust as he pleases Oscar ho wever does not
, .
, ,

sleep much H e is out of bed most of the night

.
,

and in unstockinged fee t paces the room in

apparently not too good a mood Yes poor .
,

O scar I do pi ty you
, .
”
 Th e Ma n 65
So much for popular kindness
The trial at which the accused man was ad
,

mitt e d by everyone to have comported himself

with a dignity and resignation that had nothing
of that levity and occasional pose which must be
allowed to have characterised his atti t ude during
the two former ordeals came to a close Wilde
, .

was sentenced to prison for tw o years hard ’

labour .

During the trial of c o urse n o c o mmen t was

, ,

permissible tho ugh there were not wanting

,

some papers who committed contempt of court .

When however the sentence had been pr o

, ,

n o u n c e d and Wilde as a man with a place in

s o ciety — I am using the word society here no t

—
in its limited but its economic sense had ceased
to exist then the thunders of the import ant and
,

infl u e ntial j ournals were let loose .

The D aily Telegraph which to do i t j ustice

, ,

had never been sympathetic to Wilde in his

days of prosperity and fame came out with a
,

most weighty and severe condemnation The .

article from which I am about to quote an

,

extract certainly represented the opinion of the

,

—
country at the time as The D aily Telegr ap h has
nearly always represented the mass of opinion
of the country at any given moment To .

the sympathisers with Wilde this article will

seem unnecessarily cruel and severe But to .

those who have taken into account the best tha t

E
 Th e M an 67

e ar t o an y ch att e r w hi ch is
p e tu lan t an d vi vac i
o us ,n o v e list s w h o h ave so ugh t t o imi t at e t h e

style o f p arado x an d unre ality po e ts wh o h ave

,

lisp e d th e l an gu age o f n e rv e less an d e ff em in at e

—
li be rtin age th ese are th e pe rso n s wh o sh o uld
p o n der wi th th e mse lv e s th e do c trin es an d t h e
caree r o f th e m an w h o h as n o w to un d ergo th e
righ t eo us se n t e n ce o f th e law W e sp e ak so m e
.

tim es of a sch o o l o f D ec adent s an d E st h e t e s

in E n gl an d alt h o u gh it m ay we ll be do u bted
,

co uld no t h ave bee n co un t ed o n th e fin gers o f

o ne h an d ; but q ui t e ap art fro m an y fi x e d
,

o rgani sat ion or bo dy su ch as m ay or m ay n o t

e xist in P ari s t h ere h as l ate ly sh o wn i ts elf in
,

L o ndon a c ontem po r ary bias o f th o ught ,

affec t ed m ann er o f e xpre ssio n an d st yle an d .

a few l o udly v aun te d i deas w hi ch h ave h ad a

lim ited b u t e n l infl u e n c e o n all th e be tt e r
'

t ende n c ies of art an d li t e rat ure O f th es e th e

.

pri so n e r of S atu rday co nstit ut e d hims elf a re pre

se n tati v e .H e se t an ex am ple so far as in him
,

lay t o th e weak er an d th e y o un ge r b re th re n :
,

an d j u st b e c au se he po ss esse d co n sid erable in

,

t e lle c tu al p o we rs an d un bo un d ed assuran ce hi s ,

fugit ive su c ce ss served t o daz z le an d be wilder

tho se who h ad nei t h e r exp e rien ce nor kn owledge
of the p rin ciples whi ch he trav esti ed or o f th at ,
68 O scar W ild e
true temple of ar t of which he was so unworthy
an acolyte L e t u s hope that his removal will
.

serve to clear the poisoned air and make it ,

cleaner and purer fo r all heal t hy and unvitiat ed

”
lungs .

It was the duty of a great j o urnal to say what

it said Yet nevertheless a certain wave of
.
, ,

sorrow seemed to pass over t he press generally ,

and hostile comment o n the debdcle was not

’

unmingled with regret for the unhappy man

himsel f The doctrines he was sup p o sed to have
.

preached t o the w o rld a t large were s t ernly denied

and t hundered agains t His o wn fat e was in
.
,

the maj o rity o f cases treated with a s o rr o wful

,

regret .

Yet nobody realised at all that in condemn

,

ing what was supposed to be the teaching and

d o ctrine o f Os car Wilde they were condemning,

merely supposititious deduction from his manner

of life which could not b e in the leas t su b
,

st ant iat e d by any single line he had ever wri t ten .

A ll through this first part of the book I have

’
insisted upon the fact that the man s life and the
man s work should not b e regarded as identical
’
.

To day as I write that attitude has taken com

-
, ,

le t e p o ssession of the public mind As was

p .

s aid in the first few pages of the memoir the ,

whole of Europe is taking a sympathetic and

intelligent interest in the supreme art of the
genius who produced so many beautiful things .
 Th e Ma n 69
The pu blic seems to have learned its lesson at
last but at the beginning of what I have called
,

the third period it was unable to di fferentiate

between the criminal part of whose life was ,

shameful and the artist all of whose works

, ,

were pure stimulating and splendid I quote

, , .

but a few words from t he printed comments

upon W ilde s downfall They are taken from ’
.

the well known society paper Tru th and the

-
,

writer seems to strike o nly a note of wonder

and ama z emen t The horrible fact of Wilde s .
’

conviction had startled England had startled ,

the writer and a writer by no means u n sympa

,

thetic in e ffect into the following paragraphs ,

For myself I turned into the L yceum for ,

half an hour j ust to listen when t he performance

- -
, ,

was actually stopped by the great shout of con

gratulation that welcomed the first entrance of
’
‘
S ir Henry Yet through all these cheers I
.
,

seemed to hear the dull rumble of the prison van

in which Oscar Wilde made his last exit to —
Holloway While the great actor manager stood
.
-

in the plenitude of position bowing and bowing

again to countless friends and admirers again
, ,

there rose before my eyes the last ghastly scene

—
at the Old Bailey I heard t he voice of the
foreman in its low but steady answer Guilty , ,
’

’
‘
Guilty Guilty as count after count was
,
‘
,
’

rehearsed by the clerk I heard again that last .

awful adm o niti o n from t he j udge I remembered .

7 0 O scar W ild e
how t here had fiitte d through my mind the re co l
lection of a night at S t J ames s the cigarette ’

, ,

and the green carnation as the prisoner broken , , ,

beaten tottering tried to steady himself against

, ,

the dock rail and asked in a strange dry ghost , ,

like voice if he might address the j udge Then .

came the volley of hisses the prison warders the , ,

rapid break up of the C ourt the hurry into the

-
,

blinding sunshine ou t side where some half score ,

-

garishly dressed loose women of the town danced

,

on the pavement a kind of carmagnole of rej o ic

ing at the Verdict He ll ave is air ou t re gglar
.
’ ’ ’ ’

n o w says one of t hem ; and t he others laughed

’

stridently I came away I did not laugh for

. .
,

the matter is much too serious for laughter .

The more I think ab out the case of Oscar

Wilde my dear Dick the more astounding does
, ,

the whole thing s eem t o me S o far as the man .

himself is concerned it would be charitable to,

assume that he is not quite sane Without con .

side ring — —
for the moment the moral aspect of
the matter here was a man who must have known
,

that the commission of certain acts constituted

in the eye of the L aw a criminal o ffence B ut .

no thought of wife or children no regard to put , ,

it se lfi sh ly for his own brilliant prospects could

, ,

indu ce him to curb a depraved appetite which

— —
led him a gentleman and a scholar to consort
with the Vilest and most depraved scum of the
town .
 Th e Ma n 7 I

Although as I have said printed commen t

, ,

was in one way reserved and not ungenerous ,

the public and spoken comment on the case was

utterly and totally cruel Those readers who
.

remember the period of which I am writing will

h ear me witness as to the universal chorus of
hatred which rose and bubbled all over the
country .

This was natural enough .

One cannot expect mob law to be tolerant or

to understand the myriad issues and infl u e n c e s
which go to make up any given event The .

public was right from its own point of View in

all it said T o give instances from personal re
.

collection or the personal recollection of others of

this terrible shout of condemnation and hatred
would be too painful for writer and reader alike .

While in prison Oscar Wilde wrote his mar

“
vello n s book D e Profundis The reader will
.

fi nd that work very fully dealt with in its due

place in this work It is not therefore necessary
.
, ,

to say very much about it in this fi rst part of the

volume which I have headed Oscar Wilde
the Man . It may not be out of place however , ,

to say that grave doubts were thrown upon the

truth of the statement that the book was written
in prison Upon its publication rumours were
.

circulated that the author wrote D e Profundis

at his ease in Paris or in N aple s and fi nally the ,

rumours crystallised in a letter which was sent

7 2 O scar W ild e
to The S t J ames s G az ette the gist of which was
’

as follows
I have very strong doubts that it was written
in prison and the gentleman who asserts that he
,

received the M S S before the expiration of the .

sentence in R eading Gaol ought to procure a

c o nfirm at o ry t estimony t o a proceeding which is

con t rary to all prison discipline If there is one .

thing more strictly carried out than another it is

that a prisoner shall not be allowed to handle
pen ink and paper e x cept when he writes the
, , ,

letter to his friends which until the Prison Act , , ,

1 8 99 was once every three m o nths

, Each .

pris o ner can amuse himself wit h a slate and

pencil but not pen and ink It is now and was
, .
, ,

ab solu t ely for b idden by the prison authorities .

’
As was seen in Adolf Beck s case where nine ,

petitions appear in the C ommissioner s R epor t ’

( Blue Book ) a prisoner s liberty

, fortune reputa , ,

tion and life may b e at stake but he must tell

, ,

his st o ry on two and a half sheets of foolscap .

Not a s crap of paper is allowed over the regula

tion sheets In a local prison Oscar Wilde could
.

apply for the privilege of a special visit or a

letter and probably would receive it but as the
, ,

o ffi c ial visitors of prisoners are simply parts of a

solemn farce and there is no such stereotyped

,

method as giving a prisoner the slightest relief

in matters a ff ecting the intellect I have grave ,

doub t s that such facilities were given as sup

 Th e Ma n 73
plying pen ink and paper to write D e Pro
,
‘

fundis .
’

If it was otherwise the following process

would have had to be gone through either an ,

application to the o ffi cial prison visitor (possibly

Maj or Arthur Gri ffiths ) for leave to have pen ,

ink and paper in his cell which would be refused , .

B y the infl u e n c e of friends or the statement of ,

his s olicitors that they required special in st ru c

‘

tions in reference to some evidence his case , ,

or his property leave might be gran t ed but n o t

, ,

for j ournalistic or literary purposes Had O scar .

’
Wilde s sentence been that of a first class mis ‘ -

de m e an an t he could have had th o se privileges

’

but I never heard that his sentence was mitigated

in this respect .

O r he might have applied to the Visiting

,

magistrates In either case there would be a

.

record of such facilities and the Governor of ,

R eading Gaol the chaplain and other o fficials

, ,

can satisfy the public as well as the Prison C o m

missioners If the book was written in prison
.

then it is clear the o ffi cials made a distinction

between Oscar Wilde and other prisoners .

“
There is some glamour ab o ut books written
’
in prisons The Pilgrim s Progress is a prison
.
’

book but Bedford Gaol was a pretty easy

,

dungeon Under the old regi me such men as

.

William C orbe tt Orator Hunt and R ichard , ,

C arlile conducted their polemic warfare in pris o n

, .
 Th e Ma n 75
reproduced and M r Hamilton Fyfe accompanied
,

the letterpress by informing the public that he

“
had seen the whole of the manuscript of D e
Profundis . I t was written on blue foolscap
paper with the prison stamp on the top There .

were about words of which al t ogether ,

not more than one third were published in the

-

English edition The explanation of the fact

.

that the prisoner was allowed to write in his cell

is perfectly simple .

Oscar Wild e handed this roll of paper to M r

R obert R oss on the day of his release and gave ,

him absolute discretion as to printing it H e .

had written most of it during the last three

months of his two years sentence It was ’
.

during the last half year of his term that Wilde

-

was allowed the special privilege of writing as

much as he pleased His friends represented .

to the Home O ffi c e that a man who had been

accustomed to use his brain so continually was
in danger of having his mind inj ured by being
unable to write for so long a time as two years .

Dr N icholson of Broadmoor wh o was con

, ,

sult e d on t he point said he thought this danger

,

was quite a real one S o the necessary per .

mission was given and Wilde could write ,

whatever he liked .

L ater on the prison regulations were rela x ed

again As a rule prisoners are not allowed to
.
,

take away with them what they have written in

7 6 O sc ar W ild e
t heir cells S t rictly the M S of D e Pr o fundis
.
, .

ought to have remained am o ng t he archives of

R eading Gaol .

The authorities realised however t hat to e m, ,

’
force this rule in Wilde s case would have been
harsh and unreasonable so when (in order to ,

defeat t he intentions of the late L ord Queens

berry and his hired bullies ) he was removed
from R eading to Wandsworth Prison on the ,

evening before his release he took the M S with .

him ; and he had it under his arm when he left

t he gloomy place ne xt mo rning a free man .

This statement and the facsimile prin t ed

,

above should make it impossible henceforward

,

for anyone to suggest as many have been ,

suggesting quite recently that there is any ,

doubt about the whole of the book having

been written by Oscar Wilde during the time
he was in prison .

The developmen t of Oscar Wilde during his

incarceration has of co u rse been summed up
, ,

and stated for all time by himself in the mar

v e llo u s pages of D e Profundis Yet t here .
,

are various accounts of t hat time of agony which

do but go t o show what a really purifying and
salutary in flu e nce even the awful torture he
underwent had upon t he unhappy man B y .

those who knew him in prison he is described as

living a life which in its simple resignation its
, ,

kindly gen tleness i t s swee t ness of demeanour

, ,
 Th e Ma n 77
was the life of a saint No bitterness or harsh
.

word ever escaped him When opportunity o c

.

curred of doing some tiny and furtive kindness

that kindness was always forthcoming Those .

wh o rej oiced at the fact of Wilde s imprison ’

ment may well pause now when the true story

of it has fi lt e re d through various channels and
is generally known H e himsel f told Monsieur
.

André Gide a strange and pathetic st o ry o f

those silent unhappy hours
, .

H e speaks of one of the Govern o rs under

whose rule he lay in durance and says that this ,

gentleman imposed needless su ffering upon his

unhappy charges not because of any inherent
,

cruelty or contravention of the rules for pris o n

discipline but because he was entirely lacking
,

in imagination .

O n one occasion during the hour all o wed for

,

e x ercise a prisoner wh o walked behind Wilde

,

upon the circular pat hway of the yard addressed

him by name and told him that he pitied him
,

even more than he pitied himself b ecause his ,

su fferings must be greater than his S uch a .

sudden word of sympathy from an unknown

fellow convict gave the poor poet an exquisite
-

moment of pleasure and pain H e answered him .

appropriately with a word of thanks Bu t one .

of the warders had been a witness of the occasion ,

and the matt er was reported to the Govern o r .

Tw o convic t s had b een guilty of the ou trage of

7 8 O scar W ild e
exchanging a few words The unknown convic t
.

was taken first before the Governor It is a .

prison regulation that the punishment is not the

same for the man who speaks fi rst and the man
who answers him The fi rst o ffender has to pay
.

a do uble penalty The C onvict X when before

. .
,

the Governor stated that he was the culprit and

,

that he h ad spoken first When after wards.

Wilde was taken before the martinet he very ,

naturally told him that he himself was the

principal o ffender Th e Governor stat ed that
.

he was unable to understand the matter at all .

H e grew red and uneasy and t old Wilde that,

he had already given X fift e e n days s o li t ary con

.
’

fin e m e nt. H e then stated that as Wilde had

also confessed to be the principal o ffender he
should award him fi fte e n days s o litary co nfine ’

ment also I
This touching incident shows b oth Wilde and
the unknown convict in a noble ligh t but the ,

gentle way in which Oscar told of t he incident

to the French j ournalist is even a greater tribute
to the innate dignity of his character so long ,

obscured by the exigencies of his life so beauti ,

fully laid bare when he had paid his debt to

society.

There are other anecdotes e x tant which con

firm the above All go t o show tha t the third
.

period brought out the fin e st traits in Wilde s ’

character We have in this period another and

.
 Th e Ma n 79
most touching side of the comple x temperament
of this great genius this ex traordinary and u n
,

happy man Much will have to be said on this

.

point when t he criticism of D e Profundis is

“

reached .

M eanwhile I close the t hird period with

,

a sense that here at an yrat e there is nothing to

, ,

be said which is no t wholly fragran t and redolent

of sincerity .

T HE F OU R TH PE R I OD

It is with a sense of b oth reluctance and relief

that I enter upon a short account of t he fourth
period insomuch as this or that incident during
,

it throws a light up o n the charac t er of him of

whom we speak .

With a relief because it is a far happier and

,

more gracious task to endeav o ur t o criticise and

appreciate the literary works of a great genius
than it is to chronicle facts in the life of a most
unhappy man which may help to elucidat e the
pu z zle of his personality .

With reluctance because the fourth period is

,

again one of almost unadulterated gloom and

sadness I shall be as brief as possible and too
.
,

much already has been written about the last

days of O scar Wilde after his release from prison .

A considerable amount of informa tion has

8o O scar W ild e
b een placed a t my disposal but I design to use
,

none of it The facts that are already known to

.

those who have taken an interest in Oscar Wilde

may be b rie fly touched upon here and t ha t is ,

all A n eloquent plea from a near relation of

.

the poet should be respected here and only such ,

few facts as are really necessary to complete this

“
incomplete study shall be given Nothing .

could have h o rrifi e d him more than that men

calling themselves his friends should publish
concerning his latt er days details so disgusting
as those appearing in your issu e of yesterday .

Thus a paragraph from the appeal I have

mentioned an appeal which was prompted by
,

the pu blication of many controversial articles

as to the truth or o therwise of M r Wilde s re
, ,
’

c e t io n into the R oman C hurch his debts his

p , ,

manner of living towards the end I should be .

glad to think that this e x pression of my wish

may put an end t o this unpleasant c o rre spo n
dence If it does not I can only appeal to your
.
,

correspondents to be very careful of what they

write and to re fl e ct upon what M r Oscar Wilde
,

would think if he could read their letters In .

life he never said or countenanced a coarse or

,

comm o n thing Personally I write with too

.
,

much reluctance to reply to them again and I ,

leave the matter to their sense of decency and

chivalry .

Immediately upon his release from prison

 Th e Ma n 8 1

O scar Wilde wrote his famous letters t o The

D aily Chro nicle o n Children in Prison and
H e t o ld a
”
Other Cruelties of L ife in Gaol .

terri ble story of a p o or little child whose face

was like a white wedge o f sheer terror and in ,
”

his eyes the mute appeal o f a hunted animal .

”

Wilde had heard the poor li t tle fellow at break

fast t ime crying and calling to be let ou t H e
-
.

was calling for his paren t s and every now and

,

then the elder prisoner could hear the harsh

v o ice of t he warder on duty telling the little bo y
to be quiet The child had not been convic t ed
.

o f the o ffence with which he was charged but ,

was simply on remand A kind hearted warder

.
-
,

fi n ding the little fellow crying with hunger and

utterly unable to eat the bread and wat er given
it for breakfast brought it some sweet b iscuits
, .

This M r Wilde t ruthfully said was a beautiful

, ,

’
action on the warder s part The child grateful
.
,

’
for the man s kindness told one of the senior
,

warders about it The result was that the

.

warder who had brought the bis cuits to the

s t arvi ng child was reported and dismissed fr o m
the service .

It is no t t o o much to say that this story t old ,

in the prose of a master of prose written with a ,

crushing and Sledgehammer force all the more

powerful because it was most marvellously
simple thrilled the whole of England There
, .

followed an even more terrible st o ry .

 Th e Ma n 83
that s o me wret ched man was b eing fl o gged I .

need not say how hide o us and terri ble i t was fo r

me and I began to wonder who i t was being
,

punished in this revolting manner S uddenly it .

dawned upon me that t hey might be flogging

this unfortunate lunatic My feelings on the
.

subj ect need not be chronicled ; they have no

thing to do with the question .

The ne x t day S unday I saw t he po o r fell o w

, ,

a t exercise his weak ugly wretched face bloated

, , ,

by tears and hysteria almost bey o nd recogni t ion .

H e walked in the centre ring along with the old

men the beggars and the lame people so that I
, ,

was able to observe him the whole time It was .

my last Sunday in prison a perfectly lovely day

, ,

the fi ne st day we had had the whole year and ,

there in t he b eau tiful sunlight walked this poor

, ,

creature—made once in the image of God

grinning like an ape and making wi t h his hands
,

the most fan t astic gestures .

”

The story continued with even more terrible

details than these I t is no part of my plan t o
.

harrow the feelings of my readers by a reprint

of such horrors I have said enough I trust
.
, ,

to fulfil my purpose in quo t ing Oscar Wilde s ’

—
letters to all to show h o w powerfully he him
self was moved with pity and how he s trove , ,

even in his own terrible re en trance t o a world -

which would have none of him to infl ue nce ,

public opinion on the b ehalf of one who was

84 . O sca r W ild e
being done t o death n o t perhap s by consci o u s
,

cruelty but by the awful s t upidity o f those who

,

live by an infl e xible rule which can make no

allowance for special circums t ances which is as ,

hard as the nether mills t o ne and as cold as

deat h itself .

S o Oscar Wilde passed out of England with

pity flo wing from his pen and with pity in his
heart I wish that i t was possible t o end this
.

memoir here As I have set o u t t o give all the

.

facts which seem necessary t o provide a c o mple t e

picture for readers who know li ttle or not hing
of Oscar Wilde s nat ure b eyond the fac t of his
’

triumphs as a playwright and his su bsequent

disgrace I must no t shrink from proceeding to
,

t he end as I have n o t shrunk from frankly

,

rec o rding facts in the first and second peri o ds .

It would be a faul t and insincere t o allow a , ,

deep and very nat ural sympathy to in t erfere with

the performance h o wever inadequat ely i t has
,

b een carried o u t o f t he t ask I se t out to

,

c o mple t e .

O scar Wilde crossed immediat ely t o D ieppe ,

and shortly aft erwards ins t alled himself in a

villa at a small seaside place so me miles away
from t he gay Norman bathing place His life at .

Berneval was simple and happy His biographer .

,

M r R ober t Har b or o ugh Sherard who Visi t ed ,

him there has told of the quiet repose and heal

,

ing days which O scar Wilde enj oyed H e had .

 Th e Ma n 85
a sufficie nt sum o f money t o live in comfort for
a year or so and all would doubtless have gone
,

well with him had it not b een for certain malign

infl u e nce s which had already been prominent
fact o rs in wrecking his life and which now ,

appeared again to me nace his newly found salva

ti o n of mind and spirit Such references are not
.

within the province of the book the story has ,

been told elsewhere The thing would no t have

.

been referred to at all did it not illustrate the ,

’
impatience and weakness of Wilde s character ,

even a t this point in his his t o ry The malign .

influ e n ces eventually had their way with the

poet—that is to say certain companions whom ,

it was most unwise of him to see or recog

nise once m o re en t ered in t o his life in a certain
,

degree .

A le tter which was wri tt en to a gentleman

who has t ranslated a French memoir dealing
with t he poet says : No m o re beautiful life
,

has any man lived no more beautiful life could

,

any man live t han O scar Wilde lived during the

short peri o d I knew him in prison H e wore .

up o n his face an e t ernal smile sunshine was on

his face sunshine o f some sort must have been
,

in his heart People say he was not sincere : he

.

was the very soul of sincerity when I knew him .

If he did not c o n t inue that life aft er he left

prison then the forces of evil mus t have been
,

t oo strong for him Bu t he tried he honestly

.
,
86 O scar W ild e
tried and in prison he succeeded
, The forces of .

e vil were t oo s t r o ng .

Oscar Wilde spent the last few years and ,

alas miserable years of his life in alternations of

,

sordid poverty and sudden waves of temporary

prosperity in the city of Paris There have been
, .

all sorts of stories about these las t few years .

The truth is simply t his Wilde s intellect was .

’

crushed and broken The creative faculty flamed

.

up for the last time in that brilliant and terrible

poem The Ballad of R eading Gaol
, Then i t .
”

sank again and was never revived When I say .

“
creative faculty I mean the faculty o f pro
”

du cing a sustained art istic e ffort As a talker .

the poet was never more brillian t Every now .

and again one or other of the very few faithful

English friends left to him would turn up in
Paris and take him to dinner at one of the b est
restauran t s and anyone who met him on these
,

occasions would have found it diffi cult to believe

that he had ever passed through such awful
experiences Whether he was e xpounding some
.

theory grave or fantastic em broidering it the

, ,

while with flashes of impr o mptu wit or deepen ,

ing it with extraordinary intimate learning or ,

whether he was keeping the table in a roar with

his delightfully whimsical humour a summer ,

ligh tning that flashed and hurt no one he was ,

equally admirable T o have lived in his life

.

time and no t to have heard him talk is as though

 Th e Ma n 87
one had lived at A thens wi t h o ut g o ing to look
at the Parthenon .

I think we should be glad to kn o w that in the

wrecked life of this period the poet had some
happy moments when he could reconstruct in
bright and bril liant surroundings some slight
renewal of other days that were gone for ever .

There is no doubt at all that friends both those ,

who had had a good and those who had had

a bad infl u e n ce on his pas t life were very kind ,

to him .

H e was supplied with enough money to h ave

lived in considerable comfort had he not been
incurably reckless and a spendthrift It has .

been said that he died in wretched poverty and

in debt This is partly true but it was entirely
.
,

his own fault There is indubitable proof of the

.

fairly large sums he received from time to time .

S ome of his letters to a man in L ondon who ,

occasionally employed his pen have been sold to ,

the curious and such poignant passages as

, I
rely on your sending me a little money to morrow -
.

I have only succeeded in getting twenty francs

from the C oncierge and I am in a bad way o r
, , ,

I wish to goodness you could come over also ,

send me if you can £ 4 or even £ 3 I am n o w

, , .

trying to leave my hotel and get rooms where

I can be at rest and so stay in during the
,

”
morning .

These letters seem t o show t hat Oscar W ilde

88 O scar W ild e
was nearly s t arving I can assure my readers
.

this was not the case With the realisation that

.

there would never be any more place for him in

the world had come a carelessness and reckless
ness to all but immediate and petty s ensual
r at ifi at i n s fr o m da to day
g c o y .

His landlord stated that towards the end it

became very diffi cult for W ilde to write at all .

H e used to whip himself up with cognac A .

litre bottle would hardly see him t hrough the

night And he ate little And he took little
. .

e x ercise H e used to sleep till noon and then

.
,

b reakfast and then sleep again till fi ve or si x

,

in the evening .

This is enough I have said as little as can

.

well be said B ut let u s remember the frightful

.

and crushing disabilities under which Wilde

su ffered Who is t here who dare cas t a s t one
.
?

His death cam e as a happy release and it was ,

sordid and dreadful enough to complete the grim

tragedy of his life without deviation from its
c o mpleteness True an attached friend was
,

by him at the end True the o ffi ce s of t he

.
,

Holy C atholic C hurch lightened his passing .

Yet nevertheless there was an abiding and

, ,

sinister gloom about all his last hours Details .

can be found in o ther places “

How Oscar .

Wilde died was a j ournalistic sensation at t he

t ime .

I will simply quo t e t he words o f a French

 Th e M an 89
critic who after the end wen t t o pay his las t
, , ,

sad du t ies to the shell which had held the p o et s ’

soul : The hotel in which he died was one

of those horrible places which are called in the
popular papers Houses of C rime A veri t able .
’

Hercules of a porter led me thr o ugh a long evil ,

smelling corridor A t last the o dour of some

.

disinfectant struck my nostrils A n open do o r . .

A little square room I stood before the corpse

. .

His whitish emaciated face strangely altered

, ,

through the growth of a beard after death seemed ,

to be lost in profound contemplation A hand .

,

cramped in agony still clutched the dirty bed

,

cloth There was no one to watch by his body

. .

Only much later they sent him some fl o we rs .

The noise of the street pierced the thin walls of

the building A stale odour filled the air Ah
. .
,

what loneliness what an end I

,

If I have quoted this u gly and vulgar picture

of the poet s body in the sordid ro o m I have done
’

s o with intenti o n .

It is in the contempla t ion of such scenes as

this that our minds and hearts are upli ft ed fr o m
the material t o the supreme hope of all of u s .

The man who had su ffered and sinned and done

noble things in this world had gone away from
it
. D oubtless when the Frenchman with his
,

prying eyes and notebook was gl oating over the

material sensation of the scene the soul o f the ,

poet was hearing harm o nies t oo l o ng unknown

 Th e Ma n 9 1

At the same time he hopes that it may not

,

be forbidden him to give his own and d o ubtless ,

very imperfect view H e thinks that in regard

, .

ing the whole fi e ld of the poe t s life as far as it ’

can be known to others one fi nds him to be a ,

sweet and noble nature with much of the serenity

of highness w h ich accompanies a great genius ,

yet obscured soiled overlapped and periodically

, , , ,

destroyed by a terrible and riotous madness both ,

of talk and of thought It is a facile and .

dangerous thing to attribute all the goo d and

”
noble actions of any man to his real self and ,

to say that all the evil he wrought and did came

from madness or irresponsibility If such a .

doctrine were to be generally accepted and

believed laws would lose their m iso n d étre
,
’

punishment would become a mockery and society ,

would inevit ably end .

Yet possibly it may be that some few souls

,

exist and have existed of whom such a statement

may be true If su ch exceptions do exist and
.

have existed then surely O scar Wilde was one

,

of them There seems to be no other e x plana

.

tion of him bu t j ust this and if we do not accep t

i t I at anyrat e cannot see any other
, ,
.

L e t each reader of this book appropriate his

own and I conclude the first part of it by repeat
,

ingzt h e old old prayer

,

R equ iescat .
 PA R T II
THE M ODE R N PL A Y VV R I G H T
 T HE D R AMAT I S T

W H E N M r George Ale x ander pr o duced L ady“

W in de rm e re s Fan at the S t J ames s Theatre

’ ” ’

in the spring of 1 8 9 2 it created an unprecedented

,

furore among all ranks of the playgoing pu blic ,

and placed the author at once upon a pedestal in

the V alhalla of the D rama ; not on account of
the plot which was frankly somewhat vieux j eu
, ,

nor yet upon any striking originality in the

types of the personages who were to unravel it ,

but upon the sparkle of the dialogue t he brilli

,

ancy of the epigrams a condition o f things to

,

which the English s t age had hitherto been

entirely unaccustomed The author was ac
.

claimed as a playwrigh t who had at last suc

c e e de d in clothing stagecraft with the ves t ure

of litera t ure and with happy phrase and nimble

,

paradox delighted the minds of his audience .

What promise of a long succession of social

comedies illuminated by the intimate knowledge
,

of his subj ect that he so entirely possessed was ,

held out to u s l Here was a man who treated

society as it really exists who was himself living
in it ; portraying its folk as he knew them with ,

their Virt ues and vices coming to them as nat ur

ally as the facile fl o w o f their conversation ;
95
9 6 O sca r W ild e
conversat i o n interlar dcd wi t h no s t il t ed sen t ences ,

no well (o r ill rounded periods bu t such as ,

that which falls without conscious effort from

the lips of people who in wha t ever surroundings
,

they may be placed are befo re all things and at

, , ,

all times thor o ughly at their case It may b e

, .

obj ec t ed that people in real life even in the ,

higher life of t he Upper Ten do not habitually ,

scatt er sprightly pleasantries abr o ad as they sit

around the fi ve o cl o ck tea table That Oscar
-
’
-
.

Wilde made every personage he depicted talk as

he himself was wont t o talk Passe encore The . .

real fac t remains t hat he kn ew the social atmos

p h e re he represented had b rea t
, hed it and was ,

familiar with all its traditions and mannerisms .

H e gave u s the to ne of S ociety as it had never

b efore b een given .H e was at home in it He .

could exhibit a ball upon the stage where real

l adies and gentlemen assembled together quite ,

distinc t from the ancient Adelphi guests who

had hi therto done yeoman s service in every form ’

o f en t ertainment imagined by the dramatist The .

c o mpany who came to his great parties were at

leas t vraisemblables beings who conducted them
,

selves as if they really might have been there .

A nd so it was in every scene in every situation , .

His types are drawn wit h the pen o f knowledge ,

dipped in the ink of e x perience That was his .

secre t t he keynote of his success And with

, .

what power he used it t he world is now fully

 Th e D ra ma ti st 97
aware It is not too much to say that Oscar
.

Wilde revolutionised dramatic art Henceforth .

it began to be understood that the playwright

who would obtain the merit of a certain plausi
bility must endeavour to infuse something of
'

the breath of life int o h is creations and make ,

them act and talk in a manner that was at least

possible .

It has been a popular p ose among certain

superior persons equally devoid of humour
,

themselves as of the power of appreciating it

in others that Oscar Wilde sacrifi ce d drama tic
,

action to dialogue ; that his plays were lack ing

in human interest his plots of the very poorest ;
,

a fact that was skilfully concealed by the sallies

of smart sayings and witty repartee which carried ,

the hearers away during the representation so ,

that in t he charm of the style they forgot the

absence of the substance Bu t such is by no .

means the case The author recognised with

.
,

his fi n e artistic fl air that mere talk however

, ,

admirable will not carry a play to a successful

,

issue without a strong underlyi n g stratum of

histrionic interest to support it There are .

situations in his comedies as powerful in their

handling as could be desired by the most devout
stickler for dramatic intention There are scenes .

in which the humorist lays aside his motley ,

and becomes the moralist unsparing in his ,

methods t o enforce aZou tm nce the signifi cance

,
’

G
 Th e Dra m a ti st 99
Surely not one can be indicated Nor is the
, .

reason far to seek For in all Oscar Wilde s

.
’

seemingly irresponsible witticisms it is not only

t he device of the inverted epigram that is made
a characteristic feature of the dialogue ; there is
real human nature behi nd the artifi cialit ie s there ,

is poetry beneath the prose the grip of the ,

’
master s hand in seemingly toying with truth .

And it is the possession of these innate qualities

that di fferentiates the inventor from his imitators ,

and leaves them hopelessly b eh ind in the race for

dramatic distinction .

To invent anything is diffi cu lt and in propor ,

tion to its merits praiseworthy To cavil at that .

which has been devised to point with the fi nge r

,

“ ”
of scorn at its imperfections to run it down , ,

is only too easy a pastime O scar Wilde was

.

before all an inventor Whatever he touched

.

he endowed with the gracious gift of style that

bore the stamp o f his own individual genius .

H e originated a new treatment for ancient

themes For there is no such thing as an abso
.

lut e ly new “
plot
. E very play that has been
written is founded on doings dealings incidents
, ,

that have happened over and over again L ove .

,

licit or illicit the mainspring of all drama is the

, ,

same to day as it was yesterday and will be for

-
,

ever and ever in this world One man and one

.

woman or one woman and two men or again

, , ,

as a pleasant variant two w o men and o ne man

, .
I 00 O sca r W ild e
S uch are the eternal puppets that play the game
of L ove upon the Stage of L ife the unconscious
victims of the sentiment which somet imes makes
for tragedy They are always with us placed in
.
,

the same situations and e xtricating themselves

,

( o r otherwise ) in the same old way S o that .

when a new playwright is condemned by t he

critics as a furbisher up of well kn o wn cliches he
- -

is hardly treated H e cannot help himself H e

. .

mus t tread the familiar pa t hs fl m te de mieux , .

And t he pu blic with its big human heart and

,

unquestioning t raditions knows t his and is satis, ,

fi e d therewith Nothing really pleases people so

.

much as to tell them s o mething they already

know What an accomplished dramatist can d o
.

is to rehabilitate his characters by the power of

his own personality and by felicitous treatment
,

invest his action with fresh interest And this .

is what Oscar Wilde e ffected in stagecraft H e .

Vitalised it .

I t is well nigh imp o ssible under the existing

-
,

conditions of the theatre in England to form ,

’
any j ust appreciation of the dramatist s work at
all A novel may be read at any time but a
.
,

play depends on the caprice of a manager to

present it or not as suits his commercial con
,

v e n ie n c e
. Happily for u s the comedies of Oscar
Wilde are printed and published and can be ,

enj oyed equally in the study as in the stalls .

We must go back t o Congreve and Sheridan t o

 Th e D ra m a ti st 1 0I

find a parallel It is the triumph of the litte m

’

tear over the histrionic hack the man whose ,

volumes are taken down from the shelves where

they repose again and again and require no
, ,

adventitious aid of scenery and costume to

enhance the pleasure they afford Albeit that .

the habit of reading plays is not particularly an

English one The old Puritan feeling that all
.

things theatrical were tainted with more or less

immorality still clings to many a mind Emotion .

is yet looked upon with suspicion and as the ,

theatre is the ho tbed of emotion it is even now

regarded in some quart ers as a dangerous if ex ,

citing pleasure ground S ober minded folk pre

,
-
.
-

fer rather to take their doses of love tales in the

form of the novel however inexpert than in that
, ,

o f t he play h o wever masterly it may b e L e t

, .

an author put to the vote his appeal to his public

through their eyes or their cars it will be found ,

that the eyes have it They prefer to s t op at

.

home and read as they consider seriously than

, , ,

t o go abroad and listen to what they hold t o be ,

trivialities Oscar Wilde has in great measure

.
, ,

been instrumen t al in putting these illiberal views

to flight Men and women are now to be found
.

in the theatre when his pieces are represented

who not so long ago pooh poohed the drama -

from an intelligent standpoint H e has turned .

attention to the fact that the dramatic method

of t elling a s t ory may be made as in t ellectually
 Th e Dra m a t i st 1 0
3
of the adept H e was moving
n o u n c e m e nt s .

onwards H e was making theatrical history

. .

H e was becoming a power And we who now .

read mark learn be it on the stage or in the

, , ,

study what he achieved in the production of but

,

four modern comedies can only premise that ,

to day he would have arrived at the meridian

-

of his art For not in vain was born the

.
, ,

delicate wit that played around a philosophy of

life founded upon subtle observation and one
, ,

that has animated some of the most prominent

li t erary and dramatic productions o f our genera
tion Not in vain was struck that note of truth
.

and sincerity in social ethics unheard in the ad ,

cap tan d u m strains of our professional novelists

’
.

Underlying those phraseological inversions so ,

daintily cooed by the dove was the wisdom of ,

the serpent It is the spirit of the poet speaking

.

through the medium of prose It is the utter .

ance of the great artist that mus t compel

attention even from the Philistines who sit in
the seats of t he scornful .
 L ADY W I N D ER M ER E ’
S FAN

Pro duced b Mr G eo r e Alexander at the S t James s Th eatre

(
’

y g
on 2 2 nd F e bruarg
/ 1 8 9 2 )
I H A V E endeavoured to indicat e I trust more or ,

less successfully the manner in which an e nth u

,

siastic public received the fi rst of Oscar Wilde s

’

comedies L e t u s now glance at the attitude

.

affec t ed by the critics It is not too much to

.

say that it was of undou b te d hos tility Their .

verdic t was decidedly an inimical o ne They .

had received an unexpected sh o ck and we re ,

s taggering under it in an an gry helpless way , .

The new dramatist was a surprise and an u n ,

pleasing one H e had in one evening destroyed

.

t he comfortable conventions of the stage hither ,

to so dear to the critic s heart H e had dared ’

.

to break down the b arriers of ancient prej udice ,

and attempt something new something original , .

In a word he had dared to b e himself the most

, ,

heinous o ffence of all They could not entirely

ignore his undeniable talent Public opinion .

was on his side S o they dragged in side issues

.

to point their little moral and adorn their li ttle ,

tale This is how M r C lement S cott writes

.

after the fi rst performance of L ady Winder

“

mere s Fan
’

“
S upposing after all M r O scar Wilde is
, ,

1 04
 Th e D r a m a ti st I 05

a cynic of deeper signifi cance than we take

him to be S upposing he intends to reform
and revolutionise S ociety at large by sublime
self sacrifi c e
-
There are two sides to every
.

question and M r O scar Wilde s piety in social

,
’

reform has not as ye t been urged by anybody .

His attitude has been so extraordinary that I am

inclined to give him the b e ne fit of the doubt .

It is possible he may have said to himself I ,

‘

will show you and prove to you to what an

, ,

extent bad manners are no t only recognised but ,

endorsed in this wh o lly free and unrestricted

age I will do on the stage of a public theatre
.

what I should not dare to do at a mass meet

ing in the Park I will uncover my head in the
.

presence of re fin e d w o men but I refuse to put ,

down my cigarette The working man may pu t

.

out his pipe when he spouts but my cigarette is ,

t oo precious for destruction I will show no

‘
’
.

humility and I will stand unrebuked I will

, .

t ake greater liberties with the public than any

author who has ever preceded me in history .

And I will retire scatheless The society that .

allows boys to pu ff cigarette smoke in the faces

of ladies in the theatre corridors will condone
the originality of a smoking author on the stage .
’

This may be the form of M r O scar Wilde s curi ’

ous cynicism H e may say I will test this

.
,
‘

question of manners and show t ha t they are no t

,

n o wadays recognised .
’
 Th e Dr am a ti st 1 0
7
agains t him His first comedy was a splendid
.

success .

It mus t be conceded that there is nothing new

in the plo t of L ady W in derm e re s Fan It is ’

an old tale of intrigue which has done duty on

the stage over and over again It has inspired .

many a play Bu t as I before observed it is in

.
,

its treatment by the accomplished hand that the

n o velty of drama lies And here we have an
.

interesting example of how old lamps may be

made t o lo o k new at the t o uch o f the magician s ’

wand .

L ord and L ady Windermere have been

married for a couple of years when the action
of the play commences It was a love match .
-
,

and the sky of happiness has hitherto been with

out a cloud . But the cloud at last appears in
the guise of a cer t ain Mrs Erlynne a somewhat ,

notorious divorcee who has managed to gain

,

admission into Society in a half acknowledged

,
-

way by means of her charms and her cash

, .

The cash is supplied by L ord Windermere and ,

is in the na t ure of hush money For Mrs -

.

Erlynne turns out to be no other than L ady

W in de rm e re s mother supposed to be long dead
’

, ,

“ ”
and the cloud might prove an uncommonly
inconvenient one if all o wed suddenly t o burst
upon the unsuspicious menage S o she is kep t
’

quiet by the cheques of her son ih law But her - -

.

friends are not b ackward in enlightening L ady

1 08 O sc ar W ild e
Windermere as to her hus b and s frequen t Visits ’

to Mrs Erlynne and one of them the Duchess

, ,

of B erwick is more outspoken than the o thers

, ,

and succeeds in persuading poor innocent minded -

L ady Windermere that the worst constructions

should be place d upon his lordship s conduct ’
.

Mrs Erlynne has managed to induce L ord

Windermere to send her a card fo r his wife s ’

birthday ball whereat L ady Windermere when

, , ,

she hears of this from her husband s lips declares ’

she will insult the gues t openly if she arrives .

Bu t she does arrive and she is not insul t ed ,

al t hough the celebrated fan is grasped ready to

strike the blow ! The b all passes o ff quietly
enough wi t h o ut any open scandal But L ady
, .

Windermere surprising as she imagines her

, , ,

h usband in a compromising tete cz tete with the

‘
- -

fascinating in truder determines in a momen t

,

of nervous t ension t o leave the house and b e ,

take herself to the r o oms of L ord D arlington ,

who earlier in the evening has o ffered her his

sympathy and his heart B efore she departs
, .
,

however she writes her hus b and a letter inform

,

ing him of her intentions This letter she leaves .

on a bureau where he is sure to fin d it It is .

not he who fi n ds it however but Mrs Erlynne

, , .

With the instinct born of a past and vast e x

e rie n c e she scents danger and opens and reads
p ,

it
. Then her better feelings and worse heart
are suddenly awakened and she de t ermines a t
, ,
 Th e D ra m a ti st 1 0
9
all risks to save her daughter Whereupon she
, .

’
follows her to L ord D arlington s rooms and , ,

after a long s cene between the two women ,

induces L ady Windermere to return to her

husband before her fl ight is discovered But it .

is too late L ord D arlington with a party of

.
,

friends including L ord Windermere is returning , .

Their voices are heard outside the door L ady .

Windermere hides behind a curtain ready to

escape on the fi rst opportunity while Mrs ,

—
Erlynne when L ord W inde rm e re s suspicions ’

are aroused at the sight of his wife s fan and he ’

—
insists on searching the room comes forth from
the place where she had concealed herself and ,

boldly takes upon herself the ownership of the

fatal p iece at co nviction L ady Windermere is
.

s aved and at the end of the play is reconciled to

,

her husband without uncomfortable explanati o ns ,

while Mrs Erlynne marries an elderly adorer ,

who is br o ther to the D uchess of Berwick .

S uch in brief is the plot of L ady W inder

, ,

’
mere s Fan Every playgoer will at once re
.

cognise its situations and hail its intrigue as an

,

o ld and well tried friend ; the loving husband

-

and wife the fascinatin g adventuress who comes

,

between them and cannot be explained ; the

tempter who o ffers substantial consolation to
the outraged wife ; the compromising fan or ,

scarf or glove (selo n [es gé u ts) found by the

,

hus band in the room of the other man ; the

 Th e Dra m a ti st 1 1 1

is as it should b e the chief feature of the play

, ,

albeit that play is as well constructed as any

could desire straightforward and convincing
, .

As a critic once wrote of it from the craftsman s ’

point of View : L ady W in de rm e re s Fan as a

’

specimen of true comedy is a head and shoulders

above any of its contemporaries It has nothing .

in common with farcical comedy with didactic ,

comedy or the literary c o medy o f which we

,
’

have heard so much of lat e from disappointed

authors whose principal claim to li t erature
,

appears to consist in being undramatic I t is .

a distinguishing note of M r Wilde that he has

condescended to learn his business and has ,

written a workmanlike play as well as a good

comedy Without that it would be worthless
. .

In corro b oration of this statement it is only

necessary to note how skilfully when it comes ,

to the necessity of dramatic action these scenes ,

are handled Take the one in the second act

.
,

where Mrs Erlynne more o r less forces her way

, ,

into L ady W in de rm e re s ballroom I t is an ’

.

episode of e x treme import ance and how well ,

led up to 1 L ord and L ady W indermere are on

the stage together .

L ord Windermere Margaret I must speak to .

,

you .

L ady Win dermere Will you hold my fan for .

me L ord D arlington Thanks ( Comes down to

,
? .

him .
)
1 1 2 O scar W ild e
L Wi ndermere ( Crossing to her ) Margaret
o rd . .
,

what you said before dinner was of course im , ,

possible 7

L ady Wi n dermere That woman is not coming .

here to night -

L o rd Windermere Mrs Erlynne is com .

ing here and if you in any way annoy or wound

,

her you will bring shame and sorrow on us both

, .

R emember that ! Ah Margaret ! only trust me ! ,

A wife should trust her husband .

L ady ”i n dermere L ondon is full of women

f .

who trust their husbands One can always .

recognise them They look so th o roughly u m .

happy I am not going to be one of them

. .

( Zl
V o ves u
p ) L ord Darlington .will you give me ,

back my fan please ? Thanks A useful

, .

thing a fan isn t it ? I want a friend to

,
’

night L ord D arlington I didn t know I would

, .
’

want one soon .

L ord D arlii igto n L ady Windermere ! I .

knew the t ime would come some day : but why

to night
- ?

L ord hVin dermere I will tell her I must . . .

It would be terrible if there were any scene .

Margaret .

Parker (ann o u n cing) Mrs Erlynne . .

( L o rd IV ii i de rmei '

e starts . 111 7 s
'

E rlynn e
en ters, beautif ully dresse d an d very digni
very

fi ed . L ady Win dermere clu tches at her fan ,

the n le ts i t drop on the fl oor . S he bo ws co ldly
 Th e Dra m a ti st 1 I 3
to R[ rs E rlynne , who bo ws to her swee tly in tu rn,
and sails in to the ro o m .
)

If this is not e ffective stagecraft I do not ,

know what is And the dramatist strikes a

.

deeper and more tragic note in the s cene later

, ,

on (in the same act ) where Mrs Erlynne dis

covers the letter of farewell that L ady Winder
mere had written to her husband .

(P arke r e n ters , an d crosses to wards the ballro om,

R . E n ter 1 11 7 s E rlynne
'

.
)
I VI TS E rlynne . Is L ady Windermere in the
ballroom
Parker . Her ladyship has j ust gone o ut .

111 7 s E rlynne Gone out She s not on the ’

‘
? .

terrace
P arker
No madam .
, . Her L adyship has j ust
gone out of the house .

111 7 s E rlynne
'

( S tarts and looks at the servant

with a puz z led e xp ression on herf ace ) . O ut of the

house
.
—
Parker Yes madam her L adyship told me
,

she had left a letter for his L ordship on the table .

Al i s E rlynn e A letter for L ord VV in de r

'

mere
Parker Yes madam .
, .

111 7 s E rlyn ne Thank you

'

. .

( E mit P arker . The music i n the ballro o m

sto
p s .
)
 Th e 5 Dra m a t i st 1 1

of these men of the world is admirably caught .

Their conversation sparkles with wit and wisdom

—o f the world hien en tendi t But it is in Mrs .

E rlynn e s appeal to her daughter with all its

’

tragic intent that the author surpasses himself .

J ust read it over It is a masterp iece of re

.

strained emotion .

1 11 7 s E rlynn e
‘

.
( S tarts wi th a gestu re (
f p ain .

Then resti ains

'

hersel
f, an d co mes o ver to where
L ady hVi n dermere is sitting A s she sp eaks .
, she

stretches ou t her han ds to wards her, bu t do es n ot

dare to tou ch her ) Believe what you choose

.

ab out me I am not without a moment s sorrow

.
’
.

’
But don t spoil your beautiful young life on my
account You don t know what may be in store
.
’

for you unless you leave this house at once

, .

You don t know what it is to fall into the pit to

’

be despised mocked abandone d sneered at to

, , ,
-

be an outcast t o fi n d the door shu t against one ,

to have to creep in by hideous byways afraid ,

every moment lest the mask should be stripped

’
from one s face and all the while to hear the
,

laughter of the world a thing more tragic than ,

’
all the tears the world has ever shed You don t .

’
know what it is One pays for one s sin and
.
,

’
then one pays again and all one s life one pays , .

You must never know that As for me if .

,

su ffering be an e x piation then a t this moment ,

I have expiated all my faults what ever they have ,

I 1 6 O scar W ild e
been ; for to night you have m ad e a heart in one
-

who had it not made it and broken it But let , .

that pass I may have wrecked my own life

.
,

but I will not let you wreck yours You —why .

you are a mere girl you would be lost You , .

haven t got the kind of brains that enables a

’

woman to get back You have neither the wit .

nor the courage You couldn t stand dishonour .

’
.

No go back L ady Windermere to the husband

, ,

who loves you whom you love You have a , .

child L ady Windermere G o back to that child

, .

who even now in pain or in j oy may be calling

, ,

to you ( L ady Wi n dermere 7 ises ) God gave

.
‘

you that child H e will require from you that

.

you make his life fi n e that you watch over him , .

What answer will you make to God if his life is ,

ruined through you ? Back to your house L ady ,

W in de rm e re your husband loves you H e .

has never swerved for a moment from the love

he bears you But even if he had a thousand loves
.
,

you must stay with your child If he was harsh .

to you you must stay with your child If he ill

, .

treated you you must stay with your child If he

,
.

ab andoned you your place is with your child .

W m b rs an d
'

( L ady i n de i e i e u rsts i n to te a
' ‘

buries her f aee in her h o nds .

)
( R u shi ng to h er ) . L ady W inde rm e re
L ady M 7Zd6 7 fl l 6 7 8
‘ ‘

(h o ldi n
g ou t her han ds to
her, help lessly, as a child might do ) . Take me
home . Take me home .
 Th e Dra m a ti st 1 1
7
Few people who witnessed that situation could
have done so without being deeply moved It .

is Oscar Wilde the poet who speaks not to the ,

brain but to the heart .

Then turn from the shadow of that s cene to

the shimmer of the one that fo llows imm e di
ately full of smartnes s and j eu d esprit The
,
’
.

sprightly and irresponsible chatter of men of the

w o rld .

D umby Awfully commercial women nowa

.
,

days Our grandmothers threw t heir caps over

.

the mill of course but by J ove their grand

, , , ,

dau ghters only throw their caps over mills that

can raise the wind for them .

L ord A ugustus You want to make her ou t

.

a wicked woman She is not ! .

Ceci l G waham O h ! wicked women bother

.

one Good women bore one That is t h e only

. .

di fference between them .

D In t his world there are only two

u mby .

tragedies One is not getting what one wants

.
,

and the other is getting it The las t is much .

the worst the last is a real tragedy

, .

Ceci l G raham
What is a cynic
.
?

L ord D arli ngto n A man who knows the .

price of everything and the value of nothing .

Ceci l G raham And a sentimentalist my dear

.
,
 A W O MAN OF N O IMP O R TAN CE

( F irst
p ro duced at the H a marhet Th eatre b
y y M r B eerbo hm Tree

o n l gth A ril 1 9 03
p )
PE R H A P S
of all Oscar Wilde s plays The ’

Woman O f No Importance provoked the most

discussion at the time of its production It was .

his second venture in the histrionic fi e ld and ,

people expected much They felt that he should.

now be fin ding his feet that whatever short ,

comings from the point of View of stagecraft

, ,

there may have been in L ady W in de rm e re s

“ ’

Fan should now be made good His first

, .

come dy was a well constructed play of plot and

-

incidents But now expectation rose high and

.
, ,

required of the author something better some ,

thing greater something more considerable than

,

what he had achieved before How far were .

these expectations realised ? How did the first

night audience of public and critics receive the , ,

new play ? It must be confessed it was with a

fee ling akin to disappointment People at first .

were undeniably disconcerted They had come .

prepared to witness drama possibly of stirring ,

interest and what they heard was dialogue of

,

brilli ant quality indeed but which up to a

, , ,

certain point had little to do in forwardin g the

,

action of the piece It was a surprise and to

.
, ,

1 19
1 2 0 O scar W ild e
most of them a not altogether grateful one
, .

And it came in the first act Here the author .

had actually been bold enough to defy popular

traditions and to place his characters seated in a
,

semicircle uttering epigram after epigram and ,

parado x upon paradox without any regard to ,

whatever plot there might be for it is not until

the curtain is about to fall that we get an indica
tion for the fi rst time that something is going
, ,

to happen in the ne x t act Here was an upset .

indeed ! A subversion of all preconceived ideas

“
as to how a play should begin ! Words !
words ! they muttered captiously although the ,

words were as the pearls and diamonds that fell

from the mouth of the maiden in the fairy tale .

And so o n through scene after scene until we

, ,

come to the unexpected meeting of L ord Illing

worth with the woman he had long ago betrayed , ,

and abandoned Then quickly follows the

.

pathetic interview between mother and son ,

culminating in Mrs A rbu th n o t s confession that ’

the man who would befriend her son is no other

than his own father to whom he should owe ,

nothing s ave the disgrace of his birth leading

, ,

up to the scen e cz f aire in the fi n al act where

‘
- -
,

L ord Illingworth s o ffer to make reparation to

’

the woman he has wronged is acknowledged by

a blow across the face Here at last was drama
.
,

treated in the right Spirit and of an emotional ,

value that cannot be t oo highly recognised .

 Th e D ra m a t i st 1 2 1

But the shock of the earlier acts had been a

severe one and it took all the intense human
,

interest of the last two ac t s to atone for the out

raged conventions of the two first It speaks .

volumes of praise for the playwright s powers ’

that he was enabled to carry his work to a su c

ce ssfu l issue an d secure for it a long run
, And .

not only that but to stand the critical test of

,

revival For at the moment of writing these

.
,

words M r Tree has reproduced The Woman

,

”
O f No Importance at His Maj esty s Theatre ’

which is crowded night aft er night with , ,

audiences eager to bring a posthumous tribu t e

to the genius of the author .

Ap rop os of the fi rst act where all the dramatis

erso n ce are seated in a semicircle engaged only
p
in conversation and which was likened on the , ,

occasion of the first produ ction of the play by an ,

eminent critic to C hristy M in stre lism C rystal

lise d it may not be uninteresting to note eh
, ,

a ssan t a similar arrangement of characters in a

p ,

play of M r Bernard S haw s recently performed ’

at the C ourt Theatre This is called D on J uan .

in Hell the dream from Man and Superman

-

— mercifully omitted when that p lay was pro

du c e d It had nothi ng whatever to do with the
.

c o medy in which it was included but is a Niagara ,

of ideas clums ily put together and is more or

, ,

less an exposition of the S h awian philosophy

—
.

Hear the resul t I qu o te from the critique

 Th e D r a m a ti st 1 2 3
seem to be mere phraseological inversions are
fraught with much wisdom and the maj or part ,

of the dialogue re fle ct s the mind o f a subtle and

daring social observer And it was this mind .
,

keen of observation and equipped with no ,

ordinary wit that dominates an audience and

,

compels them to si t as it were spellbound , ,

before the demonstration of the power of its

unique personality I am informed that to day
.
,
-
,

in Germany the only two modern English

,

dramatists who are listened to are O s car Wilde

—
and Bernard Shaw the poet and the proser .

Truly may it be remarked “

L es ex tremes se !

”
tou chen t .

“
The story of The Woman O f No Import
ance is quickly told .

L ord Illingworth a cynical rou e has in his

’

, , ,

youth betrayed a too trusting young lady who

, , ,

in consequence gave birth to a son by her named

, ,

Gerald When the play begins this young fellow

.

is nineteen years old and has most hopelessly , ,

it would seem fallen in love with an American

,

heiress whose name is Hester Worsley H e is .

living with his mother called Mrs Arbuthnot at , ,

a quiet country Village where also resides L ady ,

Hunstanton who acts as hostess to all the smart

,

S ociety folk who appear upon the scene and ,

among whom L ord Illingworth is the most pro

minent His lordship ignorant of their real
.
,

relationship has taken a fancy to Gerald and

, ,
1 24. O sc a r W ild e
o ffers him a private secretaryship Whereup o n .

his future prospects brighten up considerably .

But when Mrs Arbuthnot discovers that L ord

Illingworth is no other than the man who had
wronged her she does all in her power to persuade
,

her (and his ) son t o refuse the o ffer and driven , ,

to extremity in her distress tells Gerald her own ,

history as that of another woman Her e fforts

, .

are futile The boy only says that the woman

.

must have been as bad as the man and that as , ,

far as he can see L ord Illi n gworth is now a very

,

good fellow and so he means to stick to him

, .

C onsequ ently when his lordship insis t s upon

,

Gerald keeping to the bargain and reminds his ,

“
mother that the boy will be her j udge as well
as her son should the truth of her past be
,

brought to light Mrs Arbuthnot is induced to ,

hold it still secret Unfortunately for this .

secret Mrs Allonby one of L ady Hu nst ant o n s

, ,
’

guests has goaded L ord Illingworth into promis

,

ing to kiss Miss Hester Worsley This he does .

,

much to the disgust of the fair Purit an who ,

loudly announces that she has been insulted .

Gerald s eyes are suddenly opened to L ord

’

Illingworth s turpitude and with the unbridled

’

passion of the headstrong lover cries out that he

will kill him ! Which apparently he would , ,

have done had not Mrs Arbuthnot stepped

,

forward and to everyb ody s surprise intervened

,
’

with the dramat ic : No —h e is y o ur father !

 Th e Dra m a t i st 1 2
5
Tableau .In the fiu al act Hester Worsley ,

now that she knows Mrs Arbuthnot and is de ,

t e rm ine d in spite of all to marry Gerald solves ,

every diffi culty by carrying o ff the mother and

son to her home in the New World where we ,

may presume the young couple marry and live ,

happily ever afterwards Before her departure

.

from England however Mrs Arbuthnot mad

, , ,

de n e d by the cynical o ffer of tardy reparation by

marriage on the part of L ord Illingworth strikes ,

him across the face with a glove and at the end,

“
of the play alludes to him as a man of no
importance which balances his earlier de scrip
tion of her as a woman of no importance .

As I have pointed out elsewhere many of the ,

epigrams in this play were lifted bodily from

“
The Picture of D orian Gray but after these
,

are eliminated there remain enough to establish

the reputation of any dramatist as a wit and epi
grammatist of the very fi rst rank Much would .

be forgiven for one de fi n it io n alone that of the ,

foxhunter —“
the unspeakable in pursuit of the
uneatable . And Sheridan himself might envy
the pronouncement th at the youth of America
is its oldest tradition .

But apart from brilliant repartee and amusing

paradox the piece is full of passages of rare
,

beauty and moments of touching pathos .

Hes t er Worsley s speech anent S ociety which

’

she describes as being like a leper in purple ,

 Th e Dra m a t i st I 2 7
goodness stand out in high relief If there is a .

prig it is Gerald wh o whether he be listening to

,

L ord Illingworth s worldly teaching as to a well

’

tied tie being the fi rst serious step in life or ,

hearing the story of his mother s sin is a singu ’

larly uninteresting and comm o nplace young

man As to the other characters they are all
.

admirable sketches of S ociety folk L ady .

C aroline Pontefract tyrannising over her husband

and making that gay old gentleman put on his
goloshes and m u tfl e r is a delightful type of those
old fashioned gran des dames who have the peer
-

age at their fi nge rs ends N o t h ing could be

’
.

more delightfully characteristic than her opining ,

when Hester tells her that some of the States of

America are as big as F ranc e and England put
together that they must fin d it very draughty
, .

L ady Hunstanton too who prattles away about ,

everybody and everything and gets mixed up in

all her statements as for instance when referring
, ,

to somebody as a clergyman who wanted to be a

lunatic she is uncertain if it was not a lunatic
,

who wanted to be a clergyman but who at any ,

rate wore straws in his hair or something equally

odd is drawn with a fi de lity to nature that shows
,

what a really great stude n t of character Oscar

Wilde was No less admirable a portrayal is
.

that of the worldly archdeacon whose wife is

almost blind quite deaf and a c o nfirm e d invalid
, ,

yet nevertheless is quite happy for th o ugh she

, , ,
I 2 8 O scar W ild e
can no longer hear his sermons she reads them at
home H e it is whom L ord Illingworth shocks
.

s o profoundly first by his assertion that every

,

saint has a past and every sinner has a future ,

and fi n ally by the fl ippant remark that the secret

of life is to be always on the lookout for t e m pt a
tions which are becoming so e x ceedingly scarce
,

that he sometimes passes a whole day without

coming across one As literature alone the play
.
,

deserves to live and will live as a p iece ate

, ,

theci ti e It has met with more success than any

’
‘

play of the first class within the last twenty

years The reason for that is not far to seek
.

it is essentially human and the woman s interest

’

- —
the keynote of the story appeals to man and
woman equally I have seen rough L ancashire
.

audiences bucolic boors in small country towns

, ,

and dour hard headed S cotsmen sit spellbound

-
,

as the story of the woman s sin and her repent ’

ance was unfolded before them A play that .

can do that is imperishable and it is no dispar ,

age m e n t to the other brilliant dramatic works of

the author that as a popular play which will ever

,

h nd favour with audiences of every class and

kind on account of its human interest and its
,

pathos A Woman O f No Importance is cer tain

,

of immortality .
 T HE I DE AL HU SB AN D
rst ro duced at th e H a marhet Th eatre, unde r th e mana ement (y
’
( F i p y g
M r L ewis Waller and hI r H H M o re ll o n 3 rd January 1 8 9 5 )
. .

T H I S the third of O scar Wilde s plays in their

,
’

order of production is undoubtedly the most ,

dramatic The action is rapid the interest of

.
,

the story sustained to the very end and the ,

dialogue always to the point Each of the .

principal characters concerned in the carrying

out of the plot is a distinct individualised ty pe .

What each one says or does is entirely in keeping

with his or her personality And that person
, , .

ality is in each case a well marked and skilfully -

drawn one The four p erso na? who are engaged

.

in conducting the intrigue of this comedy are

Sir R obert Chiltern L ady C hiltern (his wife ) , ,

L ord Goring and Mrs C heveley , A charming .

inge mi e in the person of Miss Mabel C hiltern

’

( Sir R obert s sister ) is also’

instrumental in bring
ing the love interest to a happy h ym e rie al issue
-
.

The author of their b eing has handed down to

u s in his own inimitable way his conception of
, ,

them Here it is.

“
S ir R o bert Chiltern A man of forty but .
,

looking somewhat younger Clean shaven with .

-
,

fi n e ly cut features dark haired and dark eyed

-
,
- -
.

A personality of mark \ N o t popular—few .

I 129
 Th e Dra m a t i st
”

1
3 1

thus po rt raye di I all and rather slight L ips

W ‘

.
M
,
'

very thin and highly coloured a line of s carlet on ,

a pallid face V enetian red hair aquiline nose

.
, ,

a long throat R ouge accentuates the natural

.

paleness of her complexion Grey green eyes .

-

that move restlessly She is in heliotrope with .

,

diamonds She looks rather like an orchid and

.
,

makes great demands on one s curiosity In all ’

.

her movements she is extremely graceful A .

work of art on the whole but showing the ,

in flu e n ce of too many s chools .

In these delicious word pictures we -

once an idea as to how the author considered

his characters both physically and psychically
, .

It is interesting to note that of the four pub

lish e d plays this is the only one in which such
intimate directions are to be found : Was the
author for once in a way allowing himself a
, ,

measure of poetic licence and giving free but ,

eminently unpractical play to his imagination ?

Who may tell ? A t an yrat e however high he ,

may have soared in his re quirements of the per

formers he comes down steadily to earth in his
,

management of the plot which is acted out on ,

these lines .

In the fi rst act we fi n d L ady C hiltern whose ,

husband is Under S ecretary for Foreign A ffairs

-
,

giving a party at her house in Grosvenor S quare .

Here among other fashionable folk who flit

,

across the scene we are introduced to L ord

,
1
3 2 O scar W ild e
Goring be tween whom and Mabel C hil t ern t here
,

is evidently a more or less serious fl irt at io n going

’
o n especially on the young lady s side
, Shortly .

after his fi rst entrance L ord Goring saunters

over to Mabel C hiltern .

M abel Chiltern You are very late ! .

L o rd G
Have orin
you missed me ?
g .

I abe l Chiltern Awfully !

JV .

L ord G oring Then I am sorry I did not stay

.

away longer I like being missed

. .

M abel Chiltern How very se lfi sh of you

. .

L ord G o ring I am very se lfi sh

. .

M abel Chiltern You are always telling me of

.

your bad qualities L ord Goring , .

L ord G o ring I have only told you half of

.

them as yet Miss Mabel , .

I ahel Chiltern Well I delight in your bad

JV .
,

qualities I wouldn t have you part with one of

.
’

them .

L ord G oring How very nice of you ! But

.

then you are always nice B y the way I want .

,

to ask you a question Miss Mabel Who , .

b rought Mrs Cheveley here ? That woman in

heliotrope who has j ust gone out of the room
with your brother ?

M abel Chiltern Oh I think L ady M arkby .

,

brought her Why do you ask .

?
’
L ord G o ri ng I hadn t seen her for years that
.
,

is all .
 Th e Dra m a t i st 1 33
But L ord Goring did not say of course all he , ,

knew about the brilliant Mrs C heveley who is ,

very rép o ndu e in the diplomatic world at V ienna ,

and has in her day been the heroine of mu ch

, ,

pretty gossip The obj ect of her present visit to

.

L ondon is to obtain an introduction to Sir R obert

C hiltern and it is w h en they fi rst meet that the
,

dramatic interest of the story commences The .

lady it appears has invested largely too largely

, , , ,

in a great po litical and fi nan cial scheme called

the Argentine C anal C ompany acting on the ,

advice of a certain Baron Arnheim now dead , ,

who was also a friend of Sir R obert C hiltern s ’

.

When Mrs C heveley informs Sir R obert what

“
her position is he denounces the scheme as a
,

commonplace Stock E xchange swind le .

S ir R o bert Chi lternBelieve me Mrs C heveley .

, ,

it is a swindle I sent out a special commis

.

sion to inquire in to the matter privately and they

report that the works are hardly begun and as ,

for the money already subs cribed no one seems ,

to know what has become of it .

“
A little later on he says the success of the
C anal depends of course on the attitude of
England and I am going to lay the report
,

of the C ommissioners before the House of

C ommons .

ZV
Ii '

s Cheveley . That you must no t do . In

 Th e Dra m a ti st 1 35
purchase and which letter also is in Mrs C h e ve le y s
,
’

possession ! Here is a fin e situation with a ven

g e an c e ! B y threatening to publish the scandal
and the proofs of it in some leading newspaper ,

Mrs C heveley induces the unfortunate Sir R obert

to cons ent to withdraw the report and state in ,

the House that he believes there are possibilities

in the s cheme In return for which she will
.

give him b ack the compromising letter S o far .

,

so good She has won her cause But true

. .
,

woman as she is she cannot conceal her triumph

,

from L ady C hiltern as she is leaving the party .

L ady Chiltern
Why did you wish to meet .

my husband Mrs C heveley ,

M rs Cheve ley Oh I will tell you .I wanted , .

to interest him in this Argentine C anal S cheme ,

of which I daresay you have heard And I found

—
.

—
him most susceptible susceptible to reason I ,

mean A rare thing in a man I converted

. .

him in ten minutes H e is going to make a .

speech in the House to morrow night in favour -

,

of the idea We must go to the L adies Gallery

.
’

and hear him I t will be a great occasion

. .

And so she goes gaily away leaving her hostess ,

perplexed and troubled But in weaving her .

her web round the hapless husband she h ad not ,

reckoned on the in flu e nce of the wife to dis

entangle it and set the Victim free Yet in a
, .
,
1
3 6 O scar W ild e
fi n e ly
conceived and equally well written scene
-
,
-
,

this is what actually happened The company .

h ave all departed and they are alone together .

L ady Chi ltern . R obert

it is not true is it , ,
?

You are not going to lend your support to this

Argentine speculation ? You couldn t ’
.

S ir R obert Chi ltern ( S tarting) Who told

.

you I intended to do so ?

L ady Chi ltern That woman who has j ust

.

gone out R obert I know this woman

.
, .

You don t We were at s chool together

’
. .

S he was sent away for being a thief Why do .

you let her infl u e n ce you

Then after much painful probi ng as to why he

has so suddenly changed his attitude towards the
s cheme she elicits the reason
, .

S ir R o bert Chiltern
But if I told you .

L ady Chiltemz What ? .

S ir R o bert Chiltern That i t was necessary .

,

vitally necessary .

L ady Chiltern It can never be necessary to

.

do what is not honourable R obert tell me .

,

why you are going to do this dishonourable

thing ?

S ir R obert Chiltern Ger t rude you have no . ,

right to use that word I told you it was a .

question of rational compr o mise It is no more .

than that .
 Th e Dra m a ti st 1 37
But L ady C h iltern is no t to be so easily put
o ff as that Her suspicions are aroused She
. .

says she knows that there are men with horrible

—
secrets in their lives men who had done some
shameful thing and who in some critical moment
, , ,

have to pay for it by doing some other act of ,

shame S he asks him boldly is he one of these

.
,

Then driven to bay he tells her the one lie of

, ,

his life .

S ir R o bert Chiltern Gertrude t here is nothing .

,

in my past l ife that y o u might no t know .

She is sat isfi e d B u t he m ust write a letter t o

.

Mrs C heveley taking back any promise he may

,

have given her and that letter must be written

,

at once H e tries to gain time o ffers to go and

.
,

see Mrs Cheveley to morrow ; it is too late t o -

night But L ady C hiltern is inexorable and so

.
,

Sir R obert yields and the missive is despatched ,

to Claridge s Hotel Then seiz ed with a sudden

’
.
,

terror of what the consequences may b e he turns , ,

with nerves all a quiver to his wife pleadingly

-
, ,

S ir R o bert Chiltern . 0, love me always ,

Gertrude love me always, .

L ady Chi ltern I will love you always because

.
,

you wi ll always be worthy of love W e needs .

must love the highest when we see it ! (I ( isses

him, rises and
g o es o u t .
)
 Th e D ra m a ti st 1 39
the awkward state of a ffairs To L ord Gori ng .

the action of S ir R obert appears inexcusable .

L ord G o ri n
g . R obert , how could you have
sold yourself for money
S ii R o hert Chiltern
‘

.
( E x ci te dly) I did not sell
myself for money . I bought success at a great
price That is all
. .

’
Such was his point of View L ord Goring s .

now is that he should have told his wife But .

Sir R obert assures him that such a confession to

such a woman would mean a lifelong separation .

She m ust remain in ignorance B ut now the .

Vital question is how is he to defend himself

-

against Mrs C heveley ? L ord Goring answers

that he must figh t her .

S ir R o bert Chi ltern

But how .
?

L ord G o ring I can t tell you how at present

’
. .

I have not the smallest idea But everyone has .

some weak point There is some flaw in each

.

one of u s .

The conversation is interrupted by the e n

trance of L ady C hiltern Sir R obert goes out .

and leaves L ord Goring and his wife together .

And there follows a scene brief but as fi n e as , ,

any in the play in which L ord Goring e n

,

de avo u rs to prepare L ady C hiltern very skilfully

for the blow that may possibly fall upon her .
I O scar W ild e
H e deals in generalities I think that in
practical life there is something about success
that is a little uns crupulous something about ,

ambition that is unscrupulous always And .

again : In every nature there are elements of

weakness or worse than weakness Supposing
, .
,

—
for instance that that any public man my
, ,

father or L ord Merton or R obert say had years , , , ,

ago written some foolish letter to someone

, .

L ady Chi ltern . What do you mean by a foolish

letter
L o rd gG A letter gravely
o rin c o mpromising
.

one s position I am only putting an imaginary

’
.

case .

L ady Chiltern R obert is as incapab le of doing

.

a foolish thing as he is of doing a wrong thing

, .

S he is still unshaken in the belief of her

husband s rectitude And L ord Goring departs
’
.

sorrowing but not before he has assured her of

,

his friendship that would serve her in any crisis .

L ord
g G And if
orinyou are ever in
.

trouble L ady C hiltern trust me absolutely and

, , ,

I will help you in every way I can If you ever .

want me come at once to me .

Then on the scene arrives Mrs C heveley ,

accompanied by L ady Markby (for whose

amusing bavardage I wish I c o uld h nd
 Th e Dra m a ti st 1 4
. 1

space ) evidently to revenge herself somehow

for her rebu ff ostensibly to inquire after a
,

”
diamond snake brooch with a ruby which she -
,

has lost probably at L ady C hiltern s Now the

,
’
.

audience knows all about this brooch bracelet -

,

for has not L ord Goring found it on the sofa last

night when flirting with Mabel Chiltern and
, ,

recognising it as an old and somewhat ominous

friend quietly put it in his pocket at the same
, ,

time enj oining Mabel to say nothing about the

incident S o of course the j ewel has not been
.
, ,

found in Grosvenor S quare But when the two .

women are left alone Mrs C heveley discovers ,

that it was L ady C hiltern who dictated Sir

R obert s letter to her A bitter passage of arms
’
.

occurs between them when L ady C hiltern dis ,

cusses her adversary who boasts herself the ally ,

of her husband .

L ady Chiltern
How dare you class my b u s .

band with yourself ? L eave my house You .

are unfi t to enter it (S ir R o bert e nters f ro m .

H e hears his wifes last wo rds an d sees

’
behi nd .
,

to whom they are addressed H e gro ws deadly .

p ate .
)
M rs Cheveley Your house !
A house bought .

with the price of dishonour A house every .

thing in which has been paid for by fraud .

( Tu m s ro u nd and sees S ir R o bert Chiltern .

)
Ask him what the origin of his fortune is Get
 Th e Dra m a t i st 1 43
.

fi rst bewilderment of her discovery written a ,

note to him I want you I trust you I am

, . .

coming to you Gertrude L ord Goring is

. .

about to make preparations to receive her when ,

his father L ord C aversham most inconveniently

, ,

looks in to pay him a visit the obj ect of which is ,

to discuss his son s matrimonial prospects The ’

.

Visit therefore promises to be a le ngthy one

, , ,

and L ord Goring proposes they should adj ourn

to the smoking room advising his servant -
, ,

Phipps at the same time that he is expecting a

,

lady to see him on particular business and who ,

is to be shown on her arrival into the drawing

, ,

room A lady does arrive only she is not L ady

.
,

C hiltern but Mrs C heveley who has not ah

, ,

n o u n c e d her advent in any way Surprised to .

hear that L ord Goring is expecting a lady and ,

while Phipps is lighting the candles in the

drawing room she occupies her spare moments
-
,

in running through the letters on the writing

table and comes across L ady C hiltern s note
,
’
.

Here indeed is her opportunity She is j ust

, , .

about to purloin it when Phipps returns and , ,

she slips it under a silver cased blotting book - -

that is lying on the table She is perforce .

, ,

obliged to go into the drawing room from which -

,

presently she emerges and creeps stealthily ,

towards the writing table But suddenly voices -

.

are heard from the smoking room and she is -

,

constrained to return to her hiding place L ord -

.
1 O s c ar W ild e
C aversham and his son re enter and L ord Goring -

puts his father s cloak on for him and with much

’

relief sees him depart But a shock is in store .

for him for no sooner has L ord C aversham

,

vanished than no less a personage than Sir

,

R obert C hiltern appears In vain does L ord .

Goring try to get rid of his most unwelcome

Visitor Sir R obert has come to talk over his
.

trouble and means to stay L ady C hiltern must

, .

on no account be admitted S o he says to .

Phipps

L o rd
g When G that lady
ori n calls tell
. her ,

that I am not e x pected home this evening .

Tell her that I have been suddenly called out

of town You understand
.
?

Phipp s The lady is in that room my lord

.
, .

You told me to show her in t o that room my lord , .

L o rdGoring realises that things are getting a

little uncomfortable and again tries to send Sir ,

R obert away But S ir R obert pleads for fi ve

.

m iuut e s more H e is on his way to the House

.

of C ommons The debate on the A rgentine

.

”
C anal is to begin at eleven As he makes this .

announcement a chair is heard to fall in the

drawing room H e suspects a listener and
-
. , ,

despite L ord Goring s word of honour to the ’

contrary determines to see for himself and goes

, ,

into the room leaving L ord Goring in a fearful

,
 Th e Dra m a t i st 1 45
state of mind H e s o on returns h o wever
.
, , with
a look of scorn on his face .

S ir R obert Chiltern What e xplanat ion have .

you t o give me fo r t he presence of that woman

here
L ord G oring R obert I swear t o you on my
.
,

honour that that lady is stainless and guiltless o f

all o ffence towards y o u .

S ir R o bert Chiltern She is a Vile an infam o us

.
,

thing !
After a few more speeches in which the ,

male i i te ndu is well kept u p Sir R obert goes out , ,

and L ord Goring rushes to the drawing room to -

—
meet Mrs C heveley .

And now this woman is going to have another

duel but this time with an enemy who is proof
,

against her attacks The whole of this scene is

.

imagined and written in a masterly manner .

After a little airy sparring L ord Goring opens ,

the match .

L ord Gg o rin
You have.come here to sell me
R obert C hiltern s let t er haven t you
’ ’

M rs Cheveley To o ffer it you on conditions

. .

How did you guess that ?

L ord G ori ng B ecause you haven t men t i o ned

’
.

the subj ect Have you got it with you

.

M rs Cheveley (S i tting do wn ) Oh no ! A
. .
,

well made dress has no pockets

-
.

K
 Th e D r a m a ti st 1 47
L ord G o rin
g. Yes much b ett er than when I
,

s aw it last .

111 7 s Cheveley
’
‘

When did you see it last

.
?

L o rd G o ring ( Calmly) Oh ! ten.years ago .

,

on L ady Berkshire from whom you stole it , .

Now he has her in his power The bracele t

, .

cannot be u nclasped unless she knows the secret

of the spring and she is at his mercy a convicted
, ,

thief H e moves towards the bell to summon

.

his servant to fetch the police To morrow the -

Berkshires will prosecute you What is she to .

do ? She will do anything in the world he wants .

L ord G o ri n R obert C hiltern

’

g . Give me s
letter .

M rs Cheveley I have not got it with me

. . I
will give it you to m o rrow -
.

L o rd G oring You know you are lying

. Give .

it me at once ( JVI rs Cheveleyp u lls the letter ou t

.

an d han ds it to him S he is horribly p ale ) This

. .

is it
JVI rs Cheveley ( I h a h o arse
. voi ce ) Yes . .

Whereupon he burns it over the lamp S o .

lett er number one is got out of the way Bu t .

there is letter number two : L ady C hiltern s to ’

L ord Goring The accomplished thief sees it

.

j ust showing from under the blotting book ; asks -

L ord Goring for a glass of wa t er and while his ,

b ack is t urned s t eals it S o t hough she has .

,
1 4 8 O sc a r W ild e
los t the day o n o ne count she has gained it on
another With a bitter note of triumph in
.

her voice she tells L ord Goring that she is

going to send L ady C hil t ern s l o ve let ter to
“ ’
-

him to Sir R obert H e tries to wrest it from .

her but she is too quick for him and rings the
, ,

electric bell Phipps appears and she is safe

.
, .

M rs Cheveley ) Goring .
( f
A ter a p au se . L ord
merely rang that you should show me out .

Go o d night L ord G o ring

-
, .

And on this fi ne si t uation t he curt ain falls .

Space does not permit me more than t o indi

cate how in the fourth and last act Sir R obert
, ,

C hiltern has roundly d e nounced the Argentine

C anal S cheme in the House of C ommons and ,

with it the whole system of modern political

fi n an c e How L ady Chiltern s letter to L ord
.
’

Goring does reach her husband and is by him ,

supposed to be addressed to him How L ady .

C hiltern undeceives him and c o nfesses the truth , .

How L ord Goring b ecomes engaged to Mabel ,

and Sir R obert C hiltern accepts after some ,

hesitation a vacant seat in the C abinet and

, ,

peace is restored all round These episodes .

,

cleverly and nat urally handled bring The ,

Ideal Husband t o a satisfac t ory conclusion ”

.

It is certainly the most dramatic of all Oscar

Wilde s comedies and could well b ear revival
’

,
.
 THE I MPO R TAN C E OF BE IN G
EAR NE S T

A D E L I C I O U S L Y airily irresponsible comedy .

”
S uch is the The Importance O f Being Earnest ,

the most personally characterist ic expression of

W ilde s art and the last of the dramatic pro
’

du ct io n s written under his own name The .

play bubbles over with mirth and fun It is .

one unbroken series of laughable situations and

amusing surprises The dialogue has all the
.

sparkle of bubbles from a gushing spring and ,

is brimful of q uaint conceits and diverting para

do x e s . Even the genius of W S Gilbert in the. .

fantastic line pales before the irresponsible frolic

so m e n e ss of the Irishman s wit His fancy dis
’
.

ports itself in an atmosphere of epigrams like

a young colt in a meadow Never since the .

days of S heridan has anything been written

to equal the brilliancy of this t rifle for serious
people No one could fail to be amused by its
.

delicate pe rsifl age its youthfulness and its u tter

,

irresponsibility .

Were one to take the works of Gyp Gilbert , ,

Henri L avedan and Sheridan and roll them into

one one would not even then obtain the essence
,

of sparkling comedy that animates the play It .

is a t rifl e but how clever how artistically perfect

, ,

1 49
 Th e Dra m a ti st 1
5 1

room at a railway station inside a black bag

stamped with the initials of the absent minded -

governess who had inadvertently placed him in

it instead of the manuscript of a t hree volume -

novel Now V o rt h ing has a friend a gay

.
V
, ,

young dog named Alexander Moncrie ffe who

,

likewise has invented a fi ctit io u s personage a ,

sick friend Visits to whom he makes serve as

,

the reason of his absences from home H e has .

given this imaginary friend the name of Bun

bury and designates his little expeditions as
,

”
B unburying Moncrie ffe lives in town and
.
,

is more or less the model VV o rt h ing has chosen

when describing his imaginary brother Worth .

ing s ward is a romantic girl who has fallen in

’

love with her guardian s brother from his de ’

script io n s of him She is especially enamoured

.

of his name Ernest for like old M r S handy she

, ,

has quite pronounced Views and opinions about

names Now the reason of Worthing s con
.
,
’

stant Visits to town is to see a young lady yclept

Gwendolen F airfax a cousin of M o n crie ffe s to
,
’

whom he proposes and is accepted but for some , ,

unexplained reason for his periodical Visits to,

town he adopts the name of Ernest so that ,

Gwendolen who like C ecily has distinctive

, , ,

ideas about names only knows him by that ,

name S o it will be seen that we have already

.

—
two Ernests in the fi e ld the imaginary brother
whose moral delinquencies are such a cause of
1
5 2 O sc ar W ild e
worry to C ecily s guardian and th e guardian ’

himself masquerading as Ernest W orthing A .

pretty combination for complications to start

with but the author strews Ernest about with
,

a prodigality that excites our admiration and he ,

gives u s a third Ernest in the person of Alexander

Moncrieffe who learning that his friend is left
, ,

alone at home and that she is extremely beauti

,

ful determines to go down and make love to her

, .

In order to gain admittance to the house he ,

passes himself o ff as Ernest W orthing the ,

imaginary naughty brother and is warmly ,

welcomed by C ecily In ten minutes he has .

wooed and won her and the happy pair dis ,

appear into the house j ust before J ohn Worth

ing arrives on the scene Now that he has .

proposed and been accepted there is no longer

any necessity for inventing an excuse for his
absences from home and in order to be rid of ,

what might prove to be an embarrassing ,

although a purely fi ct itio u s person he has , ,

’
invented a story of his putative brother s death
in Paris H e enters dressed in complete black
.
,

black frock coat black tie black hatband and

-
, , ,

black bordered handkerchief There follows a

-
.

delightful comedy s cene between him and

Algernon whose imposture he cannot expose
,

without betraying himself Meanwhile Gwen .

,

dolen has followed her sweetheart to make the

acquaintance of C ecily and now arrives eh ,
 Th e D ra m a ti st
53 1

scene The t wo girls become b o som friends at

.

once and all goes happily until the name of

,

Ernest Worthing is mentioned and although no ,

such person exists yet each of them imagines

herself to be engaged to him The situation is .
,

”
to use a theatrical slang term worked up and , ,

the young ladies pass from terms of endearment

to mutual recriminations A pitched battle is .

on the tapis but with the appearance of their

,

lovers and their enforced e x planation peace is

, ,

restored between the two and they j oin forces in ,

annihilating with scathing word and withering

look the wretches who have so basely deceived
them Never never could either of them love
.
,

a man whose name was not Ernest Each of .

them was engaged to Ernest Worthing but , ,

in the words of the immortal B etsy Prig when

referring to Mrs Arris There ain t no sich
’

,
’

”
person .

The situat ion is embarrassing and complicated .

The two delinquents o ffer to have themselves

rechristened but the suggestion is received with
,

withering scorn ; the situation cannot be saved

by any such ridiculous subterfuge ; the discon
solate wretches seek consolation in an orgy
of crumpets and te a cakes Anoth er diffi c ulty .
’

—
there is also L ady Bracknell Gwendolen s,
’

mother—refuses to accept as her son in law a - -

nameless foundling found in a railway stati o n .

H o we ye r the produc t ion o f t he bag leads to the

,
 Th e 55Dra m a t i st 1

o f feminine amenities when during t he quarrel ,

scene Gwendolen says to C ecily I speak quite

, ,

—
candidly I wish that you were thirty fi v e and -

”
more than usually plain for your age No .

woman could have written better Even the .

love passages are replete with humorous lines .

C ecily passing her hand through M o n crie ffe s

’

hair remarks I hope your hair curls naturally

. ,

and with amusing cando u r comes his reply Yes , ,

”
darling with a little help from others
, The .

servants themselves are infected with the pre

M o n crie fl e
‘

vailing atmosphere of frivolity .

’
apostrophising his valet exclaims L ane you re , ,

”
a perfect pessimist and that imperturbable in
,

dividual replies I do my best to give sat isfac

,

”
tion . Again when he remarks on the fact that
,

though he had only two friends to dinner on the

previous day and yet eight bottles of champagne
appear to have been drunk the impeccable ,

“
servant corrects him with Eight and a pint , ,

sir and in reply to his questio n how is it that

, ,

servants drink more in bachelors chambers than ’

in private houses the discreet valet explains that

,

it is because the wines are better adding that ,

you do get some very poor wine nowadays in

private houses .

“
What is the use of the lower classes unless
“ ”
they set us a good example ? Divorces are
”
made in heaven To have lost one parent is a
,

misfortune to have lost both looks like careless

,
I 5 6 O sc a r W ild e
ness and I am only serious ab o ut my amuse
,

”
ments are samples taken haphaz ard of the good
,

things in the play .

It has been obj ected that the piece is im

probable but it was described by the author
,

merely as a trivial comedy for serious people .

As a contributor to The S ketch so aptly put it at

“
the time Why carp at improbability in what
,

is confessedly the merest bubble of fancy ? Why

not acknowledge honestly a debt of gratitude to
one who adds s o unmistakably to the gaiety of
the nation
The press were almost unanimous in their
appreciation of the comedy The A theme u m s .
’

critic wrote The mantle of M r Gilbert has

,

fallen on the shoulders of M r Oscar Wilde who ,

wears it in j auntiest fashion And The Times .

“
is responsible for the statement that almost
every sentence of the dialogue bristles with
epigram of the now accepted pattern the manu ,

facture of this being apparently cond ucted by

its patentee with the same facility as the butter
woman s rank to market
’
But more flattering .
’

still was the appreciation of the Tru th critic

whose previous attitude to Wilde s work had ’

been a hostile one .

I have not the slightest intention of seriously

criticising M r O Wilde s piece at the S t J ames s
.
’ ’

,
”

he writes under the heading of The Importance

,

“ ”
O f Being Oscar as well might one sit down
,
 Th e Dra ma t i st 1
57
after dinner and attempt gravely to discuss the
true inwardness of a sai tflte Nor unfortunately
’

.
, ,

is it necessary to enter into details as to its wildly

farcical plot As well might one after a success
.
,

ful display of fire wo rk s in the back garden set to ,

work laboriously to analyse the composition of a

C atherine Wheel .A t the same time I wish to
admit fairly and frankly that The Importance
, ,

O f Being Earnest amused me very much

’
.

It is however since the author s death that

, ,
’

the great body of critics have emitted the opinion

that the play is really an extremely clever piece
of work and a valuable contribution to the
English drama S o many pieces are apt to get
.

de mo des in a few years but now twelve years

’ ’

, ,

after its production The Importance O f Being

,

Earnest is as fresh as ever and does not date , ,

as ladies say of their headgear To compare the .

blatant nonsense that M r Bernard Shaw foists on

a credulous public as wit with the coruscating
hon mo ts of his dead compatriot as seems to ,

be the fashion nowadays is to show a pitiful lack

,

of intelligence and discernment ; as well compare

gooseberry wine to champagne the fountains in ,

Trafalgar S quare to Niagara .

 PA R T III
THE R OMAN TI C D R AM A S
 S AL O M E
OF all Wilde s plays the one that has provoked
’

the greatest discussion and most excited the

”
curiosity of the public is undoubtedly Salomé ,

which written originally in French and then

,

translated into English has fin ally been per ,

formed in two C ontinents .

N ever perhaps has a play at its inception had , ,

less of a chance than this Biblical tragedy written

for a French J e we ss ( Madame S arah Bernhardt )
banned by the English C ensor and only produced
after the disgrace and consequent downfall of its
author From S alom e s fi rst speech to the end
.
’

of the play we realise how the little part was ab

so lu t e ly ide n t ifi e d in the author s mind with ’

the actress he had written it for To anyone .

who has studie d however su pe rfi cially M adame

, ,

Bernhardt s peculiar methods of diction and act

’

ing the words in the first speech

,
— “
I will not
stay I cannot stay Why does the Tetrarch
, .

’
look at me all the while with his mole s eyes
under his shaking eyelids ? convey at once a
picture of the actres s in the part If there is .

a fault to be found with the character it is that

Bernhardt not S alomé is depicted and yet who ,

shall say that there is much di fference between

the temperaments or the physique of the two
L 1 61
 Th e Ro m a n ti c
D ra m a s 1 6
3
v . 25 . And h m in t i ghtw y with h a t unt
s e ca e s ra a s e o

th kin g d k d yin g I will th t th u

e ,
an as e ,
sa ,
a o

giv m bye d by in eh g t h h d fan a c ar e r e ea o

J hn th B pti t
o e a s .

And th kin g wa e din g y ; y t f h i s e xc e e so rr e or s

th k
oa
’
df th i k whi h t with
s sa e , an or e r sa es c sa

him h w uld t j t h
, e o no re e c er .

v . 27 . And i m m di t ly th kin g nt
e uti
a e e se an e xe c o n e r,

d
an mm nd d h i h d t b b u ght d
co a e s ea o e ro : an

h w nt
e d b h d d him in t h p i n
e an e ea e e r so ,

v . 28 . And b u ght h i h d in h g
ro d g v it s ea a c ar e r, an a e

t th d m l
o d thed am l g v it t h
a se an e se a e o er

m th o er .

v . 29 . And wh n h i di ipl h e s sc es d
e ar f th y m
o it, e ca e

d t k up h i
an p oo s co r se , an d l id it in a t mb a o .

The account given by S t Matthew (xiv 6 ) is .

equally terse but the fuller des cription of the

,

s cene as reconstructed by Dean Farrar in his

”
“
L ife of C hrist is worth quoting .

But Herodias had craftily provided t h e king

with an unexpected and exciting pleasure the ,

S pectacle of which would be sure to enrapture

such guests as his D ancers and dancing women .

-

were at that time in great request The passion .

for witnessing these too often degrading re pre

se nt at io n s had naturally made its way into the

Sadducean and semi pagan court of these usurp -

ing Edomites and Herod the Great had built in

,

his palace a theatre for the Thymelici

, A .

lu x urious feast of the period was not regarded as

complete unless it closed with some gross pan t o
1 64 O sc a r W ild e
mimic representation ; and doubtless Herod had
adopted the evil fashion of his day But he had .

not anticipated for his guests the rare luxury of

—
seeing a princess his own great niece a grand -
,

dau ghter of Herod the Great and of Mariamne ,

a descendant therefore of Simon the High Priest

, ,

and the line of M accab ae an princes —a princess

who afterwards became the wife of a tetrarch
—
and the mother of a king honouring them by
degrading herself into a scenic dancer Yet .

when the banquet was over when the guests ,

were full of meat and flushed with wine S alomé ,

herself the daughter of Herodias then in the

, ,

prime of her young and lustrous beauty ex ,

e c ut e d as it would now be expressed a p as seal

, ,

in the midst of those dissolute and half into xi -

c at e d revellers She came in and danced and

.
,

pleased Herod and them that sat at meat with

,

him .
’
And h e like another X erxes in the
, ,

delirium of his drunken approval swore to this ,

degraded girl in the presence of his guests that

, ,

he would give her anything for which she asked ,

even to the half of his kingdom .

The girl flew to her mother and said What , ,

shall I ask It was exactly what Herodias

expected and she might have asked for robes
, ,

or j e wels or palaces or whatever such a woman

, ,

loves But to a mind like hers revenge was

.

sweeter than wealth or pride We may imagine .

with what fi e rce malice she hissed out the answer ,

 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 1 65
’
The head of J ohn the B aptiser And coming .

—
in before the king immediately with haste (what
a touch is that ! and how apt a pupil did the
wicked mother fin d in her wicked daughter
Salomé exclaimed M y wish is that you give ,
‘

me here imme diately on a dish the head of J o h n

, , ,

the B aptist Her indecent haste her hideous

.
’

petition show that she shared the furies of her

,

race Did she think that in that infamous period

.
,

and among those infamous guests her petition ,

would be received with a burst of laughter ?

Did she hope to kindle their merriment to a still

higher pitch by the sense of the delightful wicked
ness involved in a young and beautiful girl
— —
asking nay imperiously demanding that then
,

and there on one of the golden dishes which

,

graced the board should be given into her own

,

hands the gory head of the Prophet whose words

had made a thousand bold hearts quail
If so she was disappointed The tetrarch
, .
,

at anyrat e was plunged into grief by her request

,

it more than did away with the pleasure of her

disgraceful dance ; it was a bitter termination of
his birthday feast Fear policy remorse super
.
, , ,

st it io n
, even whatever poor spark of better feel
ing remained unquenched under the white ashes
of a heart consumed by evil passions made him ,

shrink in disgust from this sudden execution .

H e must have felt that he had been duped out

of his own will by the cunning stratagem of his
 Rom a n t i c Dra m a s
Th e 1 67
ments for dogs and vul t ures to devour . On her ,

at anyrat e , swift vengeance fell .

In a footnote the D ean mentions that S alomé

subsequently married her uncle Philip Tetrarch ,

of Iturae a and then her cousin Aristobulus King

, ,

of Chalcis by whom she became the mother of

,

“
three sons The traditional death of the danc
.

ing daughter of Herodias is thus given by

N ice ph o ru s Passing over a frozen lake the ice
.
,

broke and she fell up to the neck in water and ,

her head was parted from her body by the Violence

of the fragments shaken by th e water and her
own fall and so she perished
, .

Thus the historical accounts now for the play ,

itself To begin with let u s note the stage

.
,

“
directions A great terrace in the palace of
.

Herod set above the banqueting hall To the .

right there is a gigantic staircase to the left at , ,

the back an old cistern surrounded by a wall of

,

green bronze Moonlight . .

These directions for the setting of the stage

—
are for all practical purposes useless they would
drive the most experienced stage m anager crazy -
,

but then Wilde more particularly in the romantic

,

dramas was sublimely indi fferent to the mere

,

mechanical side of stagecraft H e issued his .

commands and it was for the gens ( li t metier

’

to give practical e ffect to them H e had the .

picture in his mind ; what matter if there were

practical diffi c ultie s in the way o f producing it !
1 68 O scar W ild e
That was no fault of his It is curious to contrast
.

his stage directions with those of a practical

playwright like Shakespeare Shakespeare for .
,

instance would have si m ply written soldiers

,
“

”
leaning over a balcony There is a whole
.

chapter of difference in the introduction of the

word some .

The t ime is night that wonderful J ud aean

,

night when the air is charged with electricity

,

and the mysterious heart of the East throbs with

“
the varied emotions of the centuries Moon .

”
light says the directions and here we recall the
, ,

author s almost passionate worship of moonlight

’
.

Over and over again in play prose essay and , , ,

verse he writes about the moon She possessed

, .

an almost uncanny attraction for him and one ,

almost wonders whether the superstition connect

ing certain phases of t h e planet with the madness
of human beings may not account for a good deal
that remains unexplained in the erratic career of
this unfortunate genius
A young Syrian the C aptain of the Guard
, ,

is talking with the page of Herodias From a .

subsequent description we learn that he was

handsome with the dark languorous eyes of his
nation and that his voice was soft and musical
, .

H e is in love with the Princess S alomé the ,

daughter of Herodias wife of the Tetrarch of

,

J u dae a Herod Antipas and his talk is all of her

, ,

and her beauty The page who seems to stand

.
,
 Th e Rom a n t i c Dra m a s 1 69
in great fear of his mistress and to be likewise
oppressed with a foreboding of coming evil tries ,

to divert his attention to the moon but in the ,

moon the enamoured Syrian sees only an image

of his beloved Then the page strikes the fi rst
.

deep note of tragedy To him she is like a dead .

woman A noise is heard and the soldiers com

.
,

—
ment on it and its cause namely the religious ,

dissensions of the J ews A t this the young .

Syrian heedless of all else breaks in once more

, ,

like a Greek chorus in praise of the Prince ss s ’

beauty ( One can almost hear an imaginary

.

“
Polonius exclaiming : Still harping on my
daughter Again the page utters a warning
.

against the C aptain s infatuation H e is certain’

.

that something terrible may happen .

As if to c o nfirm his fears the two soldiers

begin discussing the Tetrarch s sombre looks ’
.

Plain uncultured fellows these R oman soldiers

, ,

and yet like most of the legionaries they have

, ,

travelled far afi e ld as may be gathered from their

talk of Herod s various wives A C appadocian
’

j oins in their conversation H e is completely .

terre h terre and cannot understand anything

bu t the obvious The talk drifts on to religion
.
,

and then suddenly the voice of J ohn the Baptist

( the J o k an aan of the play ) is heard from the
cistern in which he is c o nfin e d There is a .

certain i i ai ve te in the introduction of this

’ ' '

cistern which may well provoke a smile e spe ci ,

 Th e Rom a n ti c D ra m a s 1
7 1

with a master s certainty of touch another grim

’

note as Naaman the executioner a gigantic

, , ,

negro is pointed out as the perpetrator of the

,

deed . Mention is also made of the mandate

he received to carry it out in the shape of the
’
Tetrarch s death ring .

Thus the soldiers gossip among themselves

’
and Salom e s entrance which takes place almost ,

“
immediately is in stage parlance worked up
,

by the rapturous des cription of her movements

and her person delivered by the Syrian and the
, ,

awestruck pleading of the page that he should

not look at her .

The Princess is trembling with emotion and ,

in her fi rst speech gives u s the keynote to the

action of the play by referring to the glances
of desire that Herod casts on her To a timid .

’
question of the Syrian s she vouchsafes no
answer but proceeds to comment on the sweet
,

ness of the night air and the heterogenous c o lle c

tion of guests whom H e ro d is entertaining The .

pro ffer of a seat by the lovesick captain re

mains likewise unno ticed and like a chorus the ,

page beseeches him once more not to look at

her and presages coming evil And again the
, .
,

moon is invoked as this daughter of kings

soliloquises on the coldness and chastity of the
orb of heaven .

Her meditations are interrupted by the pro

h e t s voice ringing out mysteriously on the
’

p
I
7 2 O scar W ild e
night air and then a long dialogue in short
, ,

pregnant sentences takes place between S alomé

and two soldiers as to the hidden speaker We .

learn that Herod is afraid of him and that the

man of God is constantly inveighing against
Herodias .

From time to time the Princess is interrup t ed

by a messenger from the Tetrarch requesting her
to return but she has no though t for anyone but
,

the prisoner in the cistern She wishes to see .

him but is informed that this is against the

,

’
Tetrarch s orders Then she deliberately sets
.

herself to make the Syrian cap t ain disobey his

orders She pleads with him she plays on his
.
,

manhood by t aunting him wi th being afraid of

“
his charge she promises him a flower a little
, ,

green flower H e remains unmoved

. The .

Princess uses all her blandishments to obtain

her end ; and we can realise what a clever
actress would make of the scene as she
murmurs , I will look at you through the
muslin veils I will look at you Narraboth it
, , ,

may be I will smile at you L ook at me Nar .

,

rab o t h , look at me And with more honeyed

.

words and sentences left un fi nish e d she induces

, ,

the young o ffi ce r to break his tr ust The speech .

consists only of a few lines and yet gives o ppo r

,

t u n it y for as fi ne a piece of acting as any player

could desire The soldier yields and the page

.
,

suddenly draws attention to the moon in which ,

 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 1
73
he discovers the hand of a dead woman drawing
a shroud over herself though the Syrian can ,

only discover in her a likeness to the obj ect of

his infatuation J o k an aan is brought forth and
.
,

inquires for Herod for whom he prophesies an ,

early death and then for Herodias the list of

, ,

whose iniquities he enumerates .

His fi e rce den un ciations terrify S alomé and in ,

a wonderful piece of word painting she describes -

the cavernous depths of his eyes and the terrors

lying behind them The Syrian begs her not to
.

stay but she is fas cinated by the ivory whiteness

,

of the prophet s body and desire enters her soul

’
.

Her fi e ry glances trouble the prophet he inquires ,

who she is H e refuses to be gazed at by her

.

“
golden eyes under her gilded eyelids She .

reveals herself and he bi ds her begone referring

, ,

to her mother s iniquities His voice moves her

’
.

and she begs him to speak again The young .

’
Syrian s piteous remonstrance Princess ! ,

”
Princess ! is unheeded and she addresses the ,

prophet once more Here follows one of the .

fi ne st and most dangerous s cenes of the play ,

and yet one which properly treated is neither , ,

irreverent nor as has been stupidly asserted

, ,

immoral .

Maddened by desire this high born Princess ,

-

makes Violent love in language of supreme

beauty to the ascetic dweller in the desert His .

body his hair , his mou th are in turn the obj ect
, ,
 Th e Ro m a n ti c Dra m a s 1
75
a strange look in her and whose morbid wine
,

heated imagination compares her to a naked

woman looking for lovers and reel ing like one
drunk H e determines to stay on the terrace
.
,

and slips in the blood of the suicide Terror .

struck he inquires whence it comes and then

, ,

espies the corpse O n learning whose it is he

.
,

mourns the loss of his dead favourite and discusses

the question of suicide with Tigellinus who is ,

des cribed in the dm matis p erso n( e as a young

“

R oman Herod is shaken by fears he feels a

.
,

cold wind when there is no wind and hears in ,

the air something that is like the beating of

wings. H e devotes his attention to S alomé ,

who slights all his advances Once the voice of

.

J o kan aan is heard prophesying that the hour is

at hand and Herodias angrily orders that he
,

should be silenced Herod feebly upholds the

.

prophet and strenuously maintains that he is not

afraid of him as Herodias declares he is She .

then inquires why that being the case he does

, ,

not deliver him into the hands of the J ews a ,

a suggestion that is at once taken up by one of

the J ews present ; and then follows a discussion
between Pharisees and S adducees and N az are n e s
respecting the new Messiah This is followed .

by a dialogue between Herodias and the Tetrarch ,

interrupted ever and again by the hollow sound -

ing denunciations and prophecies of J o k an aan .

Herod s mind is still fille d with the thoughts

’
1
7 6 O scar W ild e
of his s t epdaughter and he beseeches S alomé to
dance for him but supported by her mother
,

she keeps on refusing The chorus in the person

.
,

of soldiers once again draws attention to the

,

sombre aspect of the Tetrarch More prophecies .

from J o k an aan follow with comments from ,

Herod and his wife .

Once more the watching soldiers remark o n the

gloom and menace of the despot s countenance ’

and he himself confesses that he is sad beseech ,

ing his wife s child to dance for him in return for

’

which favour he will give her all she may ask of

him even unto the half of his kingdom S alomé
, .

snatches greedily at the bait and in spite of her ,

mother s reiterated protests obtains from Herod

’

an oath that he will grant her whatsoever she

wishes if she but dance for him E ven in the .

midst of the j oy with which her acceptance fills

him the shadow of approaching death is over
,

him he feels an icy wind hears the rustle of

, ,

passing wings and feels a hot breath and the

,

sensation of choking The red petals of his rose

.

garland seem to him drops of blood and yet ,

he tries to delude himself that he is perfectly

happy
I n accordance with S alome s instructions ,

slaves bring her perfumes and the seven veils

and remove her sandals Even as Herod gloats .

over the prospect of seeing her moving naked ,

feet he recalls the fact that she will be dancing

,
 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 1
77
in blood and notes that the moon has turned red
even as the prophet foretold Herodias mocks .

at him and taunts him with cowardice e n de av ,

o uring at the same time

, t o persuade him to ,

retire but her appeals are interrupted by the

,

voice of J o k an aan The sound of his voice

.

irritates her and she insists on going within but ,

Herod is obstinate he will not go till S alomé has

,

danced She appeals once more to her daughter

.

”
not to dance but with an I am ready Tetrarch
, , ,

“
S alomé dances the dance of the seven veils .

There are no stage directions given as to how

the dance is to be performed but whoever has seen ,

the slow rhythmic and lascivious movements

, ,

of an Eastern dance can well imagine it and all

the passionate subtlety and exquisite grace with
which this languorous daughter of J ud wan kings
would endow it The ballet master who could
.

not seize this opportunity of devising a p as de

f ascin atio n worthy of the occasion does not
know the rudiments of his art .

Herod is fille d with delight and admiration .

H e is anxious to fu lfil his pledge and bids Salomé

draw near and name her reward She does so . .

Her guerdon shall be the head of J o kan aan on a

silver charger A t this Herodias is fi lle d with
.
,

satisfaction but the Tetrarch protests Again

, .

Herodias expresses approval and Herod begs

S alomé not to heed her Proudly the dancer .

answers that she does not heed her mother that ,

M
 Th e Ro m a n tic Dra m a s 1
79
me the head of J o kanaan H e makes one last .

appeal he enumerates his treasures j ewels hidden

, ,

away that Herodias even has never seen ; he

describes th e precious stones in his treasury .

A ll these he o ffers her H e will add cups of.

gold that if any enemy pour poison into them

will turn to silver sandals encrusted with glass
, ,

mantles from the land of the S eres bracelets ,

from the C ity of Euphrates n ay even the mantle

of the High Priest shall she have the very veil ,

of the Temple Above the angry protests of

.

the J ews rises S alom e s Give me the head of

“ ’

”
J o k anaan and sinking back into his seat the
,

weak man gives way and hands the ring of death

to a soldier who straightway bears it to the
,

executioner As soon as his s cared o ffi cial has

.

disappeared into the cistern S alomé leans over it

and listens She is quivering with excitement
.

and is indignant that there is no sound of a

struggle She calls to Naaman to strike There
. .

—
is n o answer she can hear nothing Then there .

is the sound something has fallen on the

ground She fancies it is the executioner s sword
.
’

and that he is afraid to carry out his task She .

bids the page order the soldiers to bri ng her the

head H e recoils from her and she turns to the
.

men themselves bidding them carry out the

sentence They likewise recoil and j ust as she
.
,

turns to Herod himself with a demand for the

head a huge black arm is extended from the
,
I 80 O scar W ild e
cistern presenting the head of J o kanaan on a
silver shield She seizes it eagerly Meanwhile
. .

the cowering Tetrarch covers his face with his

cloak and a smile of triumph illumines the face
of Herodias All t he tigress in Salomé is
.

awakened ; she apostrophises the head He .

would not let her kiss his mouth Well she .

,

will kiss it now she will fasten her teeth in it

, .

She twits the eyes and the tongue wi t h their

present impotence she will throw the head to ,

the dogs and the birds of the air But anon her .

mood changes she recalls all that in him had

,

appealed to her and laments over the fact that

, ,

though she loves him still her desire for him can ,

now never be appeased .

All Herod s superstitious fears are awakened

’

he upbraids Herodias for her daughter s crime ’

and mounts the staircase to enter the palace .

The stage darkens and Salomé a moonbeam ,

falling on her is heard apostrophising the head

, ,

the lips of which she has j ust kissed Herod .

turns and seeing her orders her to be killed

, , , ,

and the soldiers r u shing forward crush her with

, ,

their shields .

It will be seen that the dramatist has awarded

the fate meted out in S cripture to Herodias to
the daughter and not the mother a poetic lic ence ,

for which no one will blame him .

I n reading the play carefully and critically

one cannot bu t be struck with the infl ue n ce of
 Th e Ro m a n ti c D ra m a s 1 81
Maeterlinck in the atmosphere and construction ,

and of Flaubert in the gorgeous imagery of the

dialogue the decor des p hrases so to speak
, , .

A h artist in words Wilde also proves him

self in stagecraft in this play N o t the mere .

mechanical setting of which I shall speak later

, ,

but the ability to lead up to a situation the ,

power to convey a whole volume in a few words

to h ll the audience with a sense of impending
tragedy and to utilise outside in fluences to
,

enhance the value of the scenes Thus the .

,

references to the moon by the various characters

are so many stage settings for the emotion of the
moment verbal pictures illustrating the state of
,

mind of the speaker or the trend of the actio n

, .

It has been obj ected that the constant reiteration

of a given phrase is a mere trick and Max Nordau
has set it down as a mark of insanity but in the ,

“ ”
hand s of an artist the use of that trick in
calculably enhances the value of the dialogue ,

although when employed by a bungler the re

petition would be as senseless and irritating
as the conversational remarks of a parrot The .

young S yrian s admiration for Salomé the page s

’

,
’

’
fears and warnings Salom e s insistence that she
,

will kiss J o k an aan s mouth later on her insist

’

ence on having his head the very comments of

,

’
the soldiers on Herod s sombre look are all
brought in with a thoroughly de fin it e purpose ,

and it would be diffi cult t o fi nd an equally

 Th e Ro m a n t i c Dra m a s 1 83
is not a word wasted or misplaced there is not a ,

supe rfl u o u s syllable .

I have spoken of the infl ue n ce of Flaubert or

his language but there was in Wilde a thoroughly
,

E astern love of colour which found its expression

in sensuous richness of sound j ewelled words , ,

wonderfully employed to effect a contrast with

the horror in which he seemed to take a strange
delight The rich decorative phrases only e n
.
,

hance the constant presence of the weird and

macabre while in its turn the horror gives an
,

almost pai n ful lustre to the words .

The play has been assailed as immoral but this ,

certainly is not so The setting of an Eastern

.

drama is not that of a Western and the morals ,

and customs of the East are no more to be

j udged by a W estern standard than the C ourt
o f Herod to be compared with that of Edward
the S eventh .

The play deals frankly with a sensuous episode ,

and if the author has introduced the proper at

m o sph e re he is only doing in words what every
artist does in painting C ompare S alomé with
.

”
Shakespeare s one Eastern play Cleopatra and
’

, ,

though the treatment may be a little more

modern a t rifl e more decadent the same non
, ,

morality rather than immorality is to be found

in the principal characters .

I fancy that a great deal of the prej udice still

e x isting in England against the play is due to
1 84 O sc ar W ild e
the illustrations of the late Aubrey Beardsley .

B eardsley was a personal friend of mine and it , ,

therefore pains me to have to frankly confess

,

that clever and decorative as his drawings u n

,

doubtedly are they are unhealthy in this instance

, ,

unhealthy and evil in suggestion I can imagine .

no more pruriently horrible nightmare than these

pictures of foul faced satyrlike men feminine
-
, ,

youths and leering women The worst of .

Beardsley s women is that in spite of their

’

lubricity they grow on one and now and then

, ,

one suddenly traces in their features a likeness

to really good women one has known It is as .

though something S atanic had been worked into

the ripe lipped face of a girl S uch as these might
-
.

have been the emissaries of S atan who tempted

anchorites of old to commit unpardonable sins .

Moreover many of the illustrations have nothing

,

whatever to do with the text I may be wrong .

,

but I cannot for the life of me see what connec

tion there is between S alomé t he play and
“
, ,

“
The Peacock Skir t or The Black C ape
“
Nor .

can I see the obj ect of modernising the Stomach

D ance save to impart an extra doze of lubri
,

city into the subj ect The leit mo tif of all

.

Beardsley s art was to ep ater les bourgeois to

’

horrify the ordinary stolid Philistine and he ,

would hesitate at not hing however ou tré to , ,

attain this end In these drawings he surpassed

.

himself in that respect and one can only wonder

,
 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 1 85
that a publisher was found daring enough to
publish them The subj ec t is a painful one to
.

me but I should not have been doing my duty

,

as a critic of the play had I not remarked upon

it
. A n edition from which the drawings are
omitted can however be bought to day
, ,
-
.

I have already commented on the vagueness

of the directions as to the setting of the s cene ,

and it may not be out of place to quote here a

letter I have received from a well known stage -

manager on the subj ect You ask me how I

.

would set the scene in question in accordance

with the printed directions and I reply frankly ,

that I should be puzzled to do so even were the

s ce n e to consist of the banqueting hall with the

balustraded terrace built up above it The whole .

action of the piece takes place on the terrace ,

from which the actors are supposed to overlook

the banqueting hall so that the latter apartment
,

need not be in view of the audience but the ,

gigantic staircase on the R I confess fogs me . .

Where does it lead to and save for Herod s exit

, ,
’

at the end of the play of what use is it ,

? It
only lumbers up the stage and looks out of place ,

( to my mind at,an rat e ) on a terrace

y .

B y the cistern I presume the author means a

well though how on earth the actor who plays
,

J o kan aan is going to manage to scramble in

and out of it with dignity so as not to provoke
the hilarity of the audience is beyond my ken I .
 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra ma s 1 8 7
it was prohibi t ed by t he C ensor A grea t deal
.

of abuse and ridicule has been heaped on that

o ffi cial for this but in all fairness to him it must
,

be admitted that he had no choice in the matter .

R ightly or wrongly plays dealing with Biblical

subj ects are not allowed to be performed on the
English stage and the C ensor s business is to see
,
’

that the rules and regulations governing stage

productions are duly observed .

The author was greatly incensed at the refusal

of the L ord Chamberlain s o ffi ce r to license the
’

piece and talked (whether seriously or not is a

,

moot point ) of leaving England for ever and

taking out naturalis ation papers as a French
citizen This threat he never carried out
. .

Meanwhile Madame S arah B ernhardt had

taken the play back to Paris with her promis ,

ing to produce it at her own theatre of the Porte

S t Martin at the very fi rst opportunity a promise,

that was never fulfille d Moreover when a

.
,

couple of years later Wilde then a prisoner

,

awaiting his trial fin ding himself penniless sent

, ,

a friend to her to explain how he was circum

st an ce d and offering to sell her the play outright
,

for a comparatively small sum of money in order

that he might be able to pay for his defence this ,

incomparable p oseuse was profuse in her expres

sions of sympathy and admiration for cc grand
artiste and promised to assist him to the best of

her ability She had the cruelt y to delude with

.
1 88 O sc ar W ild e
false hopes a man su ffering a mental martyrdom ,

and after buoying him up from day to day with

promises of fi n an cial assistance the J e we ss not
,

considering the investment a remunerative one ,

shut the door to his emissary and failed to keep

,

her word Now that th e foreign royalties on

.

play and opera amount to a considerable sum

annually her Hebrew heart must be consumed
with rage at having missed such a good thing .

The piece was fi rst produced at the Th eatre

L ibre in Paris in 1 8 9 6 by Monsieur L uigne Po t?
with L ina Muntz as S alomé The news of the
.

production reached Wilde in his prison cell at

R eading and in a letter to a friend the following
,

reference to it occurs
“
Please say how gratifi e d I was at the per
fo rm an ce of my play and have my thanks con
,

v e ye d to L uigne Po e It is something that at

.

a time of disgrace and shame I should still be

regarded as an artist I wish I could feel more
.

pleasure but I seem dead to all emotions except

,

those of anguish and despair However please

.
,

let L uigne Po e know I am sensi ble of the honour

he has done me H e is a poet himself Write
. .

to me in answer to this and try and see what

,

’
L emaitre Bauer and S arcey said of S alomé
, , .

There is something intensely pathetic in the

picture of C onvict 3 3 writing to know what the
foremost critics of the most artistic city in Europe
have to say concerning the child of his brain .
 Th e Ro m a n ti c Dra m a s 1 89
The play was eventually privately prod u ced in
Engli sh by the New Stage C lub in May 1 9 05 at
the Bij ou T b eatre Archer Street , .

The following is the programme on that

o ccasion :

TH E N E W S TA G E CL U B

SAL O M E
BY O S AR V
C
V
I LDE

AT TH E B I J O U T H E A TR E Archer S treet W , ,

May l ot h and May 1 3t h 1 9 05

Characters of the drama in the order of

speaking
A Y un g Sy i n Cap t in
o ra a ER ERT L E E
Mr H B A XAN D R
P g f H di
a e o e ro as Mrs G W D O L
EN EN B I SHOP
l t S l di
s o er LE
Mr CH A R S G EE
2 d S ldi
n o er L
M r RA PH D E RO HAN
C pp ad i n
a oc a LE
Mr C H A R S D A L M O N
Jo k an aan Mr VIN ENT
C N ELLo
N m n th E
aa a e xe c uti no er Mr W E V LY O S B O
E N . RN
S l me
a o M M I I ENT
i ss LL C M U R BY
Sl v
a e M i CA RR I E K EITH
ss

H d
e ro M R O ERT F A R
r B A RS N QU H O

H di
e ro as Mi L ss SAL O U I SE OM

Ti g llinu
e s M r C L D E L PH
. .

Sl v a e s, J Nz n
e ws, a are d S l di by
e s, an o e rs

M i S t f ld
ss an s e s, M e ssrsB nh d S m ith F dk St nl y
er ar ,
re . a e

S mith J h B t
,
o n a e, St ph n B g h t d F d i k L w n
e e a e o an re er c a re ce .

SC ENE —T HE G RE A T T ERR A C E O T S I E THE PA LA E

U D C or

I J ER O D .

St age M n
a age m nt und
e er th e di re c ti n
o of M F LO REN C E
i ss

FA RR .
 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 1
9 1

S olomon It is done very cleverly very grace

.
’

fully It is not religiou s but it is in itself

.
, , ,

neither blasphemous nor obscene whatever it ,

may be in the ears of those who hear it It .

might possibly perhaps be acted grossly ; acted

, ,

naturally and beautifully it would show itself at

least art .

In the hands however of t he New Stage , ,

C lub it was treated after neither of these

methods It was treated solemnly dreamily
.
, ,

phlegmatically as a sort of cross between

,

’
Maeterlinck and a mystery play ‘
.

“
The whole of the play was done in this
,
—
manner all save two parts one that of Herodias ,

( Miss S alom ) which was excellently

, and Vigor
o u sl played : the other that of Herod which
y , ,

was completely spoiled by an actor who gave

what appeared to be a sort of semi grotesque -

portrait of one of the late R oman emperors .

E ven the play itself represents the us urping

Idumean as a t e rrifi c figure of ignorant strength
and lustfulness and power walking mightily in ‘

his greatness S om e of the most luxurious

.
’

speeches in the whole play —above all the

—
wonderful description of his j ewels are put into
Herod s mouth Yet he is represented at the
’
.

Bij ou Theatre as a doddering weakling ! And

even so is desperately serious .

Altogether beneath this pall of solemnity on

,

the one hand and lack of real exaltation on the

1
9 2 O scar W ild e
other the play s b eauties of speech and thought
,
’

had prac t ically no chance whatever S et as it is .

too in one long act of an hour and a half the

, ,

lack of natural life and vigour made it more tire

some still And the shade of O scar Wilde will
.

doubtless be blamed for it all 1

It was unavoidable that a play necessitating
the highest histrionic ability on the part of the
actors together with the greatest delicacy of
,

touch and artistic sense o f proportion should ,

su ffer in its interpretation by a set of amateurs ,

however enthusiastic .

A second performance given in J une 1 9 06 by ,

the L iterary Stage S ociety was far more success ,

ful from an ar t istic point of View This was in a .

great measure due to the admirable stage setting

desi gned by one who is an artist to his fi n ge r tips ,

M r C S R icketts and who having been a

. .
, ,

’
personal friend of the author s could enter ,

t horoughly into the spirit of the play The .

scene was laid in H erod s tent the long blue ’

folds of which with a background curtain

,

S pangled with silver stars set o ff to perfection ,

the exquisite Eastern costumes designed by the

same authority M r R obert Farquharson was
.

the Herod and Miss D arragh the S alomé

But even this performance was far from being
up to the standard the play demands and Dr ,

Ma x M e ye rfe ld who has done so much to make

,

Wilde s work known in Germany wrote of i t

’

,
 Th e Rom a n tic D ra m a s 1 9 3
The most notable feat ure of the production
of Salomé was the costumes designed by M r
’

—
,

C S R icketts a marvellous harmony of blue

. .

and green and silver Here praise mus t end

. .

The stage was left ridiculously bare and never ,

for a moment produced the illusion of the terrace

outside Herod s banqueting hall Not even the
’
.

cistern out of which the Prophet rises was dis

—
coverable H amlet without the Prince of D en
mark And the actors ! Without being too
.

exigeant I cannot b u t suggest that before at

,

tempting such a play they ought to have been

sent by a special train to Berlin Even then .

Miss Darragh would have been an impossible

S alomé S he lacked nearly everything required
.

by this complex character The D ance of the .

S even V eils was e x ecu t ed with all the propriety

of a British governess M r R obert Farquharson
.
,

whose Herod delighted u s last year has now ,

elaborated it to the verge of caricature H e em .

p h asise s far too much the neuropathic element ,

and revels in the repulsive symptoms of incipien t

soften ing of the brain .

I cannot think that either of these works has

yet been given a fair chance in England They .

are however things which will endure being

, , ,

independent of place and time of dominant ,

”
prej udice and caprices of taste .

O h th e C ontinent S alomé has become alm o st

”

a stock piece and has been performed in France ,

N
 Th e Ro m an ti c Dra m a s 1
95
When the O pera was performed at Berlin it is
interesting to remember that the Kaiser whose ,

views on morality are strict enough to satisfy the

most exacting Puritan far from seei ng anything
,

to obj ect to in the story not only was present

,

on the opening night but took an active interest

,

in t he rehearsals going so far even as t o suggest

,

cert ain mechanical effects .

In New York a perfect storm of execration

from the ultra guid greeted the production of
S trau ss s work which was almost immediately
’

withdrawn It is only j ustice to say that the

.

rendering of the Dance of the S even V eils was

in a great measure responsible for this .

It was also freely rumoured that the puri

t anical daughter of one of the mil lionaire
directors of the Opera House had used her
infl u e n ce for the suppression of the new pro
duc t ion
.

It is interesting to hear what the obj ectors t o

the story have to say and with this view I quote
,

two extracts one from a letter written by M r E

, .

A Baughan to The I ll usical S tandard and the

.

other from a wel l known critic writing in a lead

-

ing provincial paper .

M r Baughan writes
Oscar Wilde took nothing but the characters
and the incident of J ohn the Baptist s head ’

being brought in a charger All else is changed .

and b ears no relation to the Bible story That .

1 9 6 O scar W ild e
would not matt er had worthy use been made of
t he story .

In S alome everything is twisted to create

an atmosphere of eroticism and sensuality That .

is the aim of t he play and nothing else There .

is none of the wide bearing on life which you

vaguely suggest Herod is a sensuous beast who
.

takes deligh t in the beautiful postures of his step

daughter H e speaks line after line of highly
.

coloured imagery and his mental conditi o n is

that of a man on the verge of delirium tremens ,

brough t o n by drink and satyriasis Os car .

Wilde does not make him s o rry but only

slightly superstitious thus losing whatever of
,

drama there is in the Bi ble narrative .

S o far and in the drawing of Herodias the

, ,

dramatist may be allowed the licence he has taken ,

however Even a Puri t an must admit that art

.

must show the evil as well as the good of life t o

presen t a perfec t whole .

But it is in t he character of S alomé herself

that Oscar Wilde has succeeded in his aim of
shocking any man or woman of decent mind .

H e makes S al o mé in love with J ohn the Baptist .

It is a h o rrible decadent lascivious love She

, , .

prates of his beautiful smooth limbs and the cold ,

passionless lips which he will not yield to her in

sensate desire It is a picture of unnatural pas
.

sion all the more terrible that S alomé is a young

,

girl J ohn the Baptis t s deat h is br o ugh t about

.
’
 Th e Roman t i c Dram a s 1
97
as much by S alomé as her mother The prophet .

will not yield himself alive to S alom e s desires ’

but she can and does feed her passion at his

, ,

dead cold lips And that is what has disgusted

, .

New York .

“
You speak of figh ting for liberty in art .

If such exhibitions of degraded passion are in

cluded in what you call li berty then you will ‘
,
’

be figh t ing for the representation on the stage of

satyriasis and nymphomania set forth with every ,

imaginable circumstance of literary and musical

skill I can conceive of no greater degradation
.

of R ichard S trau ss s genius than the illustration

’

of this play by music .

And here is wha t the critic o f the provincial

j ournals has to say
“
Salomé marks the depths of all that was
spurious all that was artifi cial all that was
, ,

perverse Startling to English ears the play

.
,

was not at all original It drew its inspiration

.

from the decadent s chool of France but in that ,

world it would rank as one of the common

place .

The shocking startling idea that so outraged

, ,

the respectable Yankees is the twisting of a ,

story of the New Testament to the needs of a

literature of the most degenerate kind But in .

Paris and particularly amongs t Wilde s friends

,
’

all such ideas had lost the thrill of novelty .

Pierre L ouys t o wh o m he dedicates the book

, ,
 THE D U CH E S S O F P ADU A
TH E fi rst of all Wilde s plays was The D uchess
’

”
of Padua It was written at the time when
.

he was living at the Hotel V oltaire in Paris

and taking B alzac as his model Th e title of the.

play was doubtless inspired by Webster s gloomy ’

tragedy of another Italian duchess and the play

itself is in fi ve acts Altho u gh many students of
.

his works consider that it is worthy to rank with

the masterpieces of the Elizabethan drama it ,

must be confessed that the work though full of ,

promise is immature and too obviously indebted

,

in certain scenes to some of S hakespeare s most ’

obvious stage tricks H e had written the play

.

with a View to its being played by Miss Mary

Anderson but to his great disappointment she
,

declined his o ffer of it .

His biographer s description of his reception

’

of her refusal is worth quoting :

I was with him at the Hotel V oltaire on
the day when he heard from Mary Anderson to ,

whom he had sent a copy of the drama which

was written for her H e telegraphed in the
.

morning for her decision and whilst we were ,

talking together after lunch her answer came .

It was unfavourable yet though he had founded

,

great hopes on the production of this play he ,

1 99
2 00 O scar W ild e
gave no sign of his disappointment I can re .

member his tearing a little piece o f the blue

telegraph form and rolling it up into a pellet and
-

putting it into his mouth as by a curious habit , , ,

he did with every paper or book that came into

his hands And all he said as he passed the
.
,

telegram over to me was This R obert is , , , ,

rather tedious .

The scene of the play is laid in Padua the ,

period being the sixteenth century and the ,

characters are as foll o ws

D RA M ATI S PERS O N Z
E

S I MO NE G ESSO D uk P du e of a a .

B E ATRI C E H W if
is e .

A N E A P LLA I L
DR O UO O C din l f P du
ar a o a a
.

MA FF I O PE rnucc x
'

J PPE O V I TELO ZZ O Of h D lH
t e uc a o u h ld
se o .

TA E O BA
DD RD I

G UI Do F ERR A NTI
A S CAN I O C S O F A O RI T N H is Fi r e nd .

NT
C O U M O R A N ZO N E .

BE RNA RD O C A A L AN T
V C I C hi f J u
e sti c i ar o f P
du aa .

HU G O Th e E P ubli c xe c uti n o er.

L IAUC A Ti w m an re o .

S ervin g M -
e n, Bu gh r e rs, S ldi F l n M nk
o e rs, a co e rs, o s, e tc .

The scene opens in the market where Ascanio ,

and Guido are awaiting the arrival of the writer

of a letter who has promised to enlighten the
latter as to his birth and who will wear a Violet ,

cloak with a silver falcon embroidered on the

shoulder The stranger arrives and proves to be
.
 Th e Rom a n ti c D rama s 201

C ount M o ran z o n e who Ascanio having been

, ,

dismissed informs the lad that he is the son of

,

L orenzo the late Duke of Padua betrayed to

, ,

an ignominious death by the reigning Duke ,

Simone Gesso H e works on the youth s feel

.
’

ings and induces him to swear to avenge his

father s death by slaying his betrayer but not
’

until M o ranz o n e sends him his parent s dagger ’

.

Guido left alone in a fin e speech renews his oath

, ,

and as he is vowing on his drawn dagger to

“
forswear t he love of women and that hollow
bau ble men call female lovelines s Beatrice ,

descends the steps of the church their eyes mee t ,

for a second and as she leaves the stage she turns to

look at him again S ay wh o is y o nder lady
.
,
?

inquires the young man and a burgher answers

, ,

The D uchess of Padua .

In the second act the D uchess is seen pleading

with her husband that he should feed and assist
his starving people O n his e x it she is j oined by
.

Guido who for the first time declares his love

, , , ,

while she avows hers in turn A pretty love .

scene full of tenderness and poetry is interrupted

by the appearance of C ount M o ranz o n e whom ,

B eatrice alone catches sight o f and presently a ,

messenger enters and hands Guido a parcel con

taining the fatal dagger H e will have no more
.

—
to do with love for will not his soul be stained
with murder — and steeling his heart against
B eatrice he bids her farewell telling her that t here
,
 Th e Ro m a n ti c D r a m a s 2 03

reckoning with Dea t h who yet licks

his lips ,

”
after this feast .

H e wrests the dripping knife from her hand ,

and although she explains that twas for love of ’

him she did the deed he bids her begone to her

ch am b e r wo m e n .

Finally she turns on him with the threat

Who of u s calls down the lightning on his
head let him beware the hurt that lurks within
”
the forked levin s flame she leaves him L e ft
’

, .

alone his heart goes forth to her and he calls her

,

back but soon her voice is heard without say

, ,

’
ing , This way fled my husband s murderer .

S oldiers enter and Guido is arrested the blood

, ,

stained knife being taken from him .

The fourth act is laid in the hall of j ustice .

The Du chess has accused Guido of the murder .

H e will not defend himself though M o ran z o ne ,

who has recognised the dagger as the Duchess s ’

urges him to do so Guido tells his evil genius .

that he himself did the deed H e then begs .

leave of the J u sticiar to let him name the guilty

one who slew the D uke bu t B eatrice who is , ,

fearful he will accuse her urges that he shall not ,

be allowed speech A lengthy wrangle takes .

place between her the j udges and M o ranz o n e , , ,

and the court retires to consider the point Dur .

ing the interval the accused holds conference

,

with the C ardinal who will only hear him in the

,

C onfessional Beatrice tells him A n t hou dost

.
,
2 04 O scar W ild e
meet my husband in Purgatory with a blood red -

star over his heart tell h im I send you to bear ,

him company When at last the j udges return

.

they decide that Guido may have speech .

Beatrice who has arranged for a horse to be

,

in waiting that it may convey her to V enice ,

endeavours to leave the court but is prevente d , .

A t last Guido speaks and confesses to the

murder H e is condemned to death and is led
.
,

“
forth as B eatrice calling out his name throws
, ,

wide her arms and rushes acr o ss the stage

t o wards him .

The last ac t takes place in the prison Guid o .

is asleep and Beatrice wearing a cloak and mask

, , ,

enters t o him B y wearing these and using her

.

ring of State she hopes he will b e enabled t o

escape Presently she drinks t he poison which
.
,

as he is of noble birth has been placed near him ,

and when he awakes a reconciliation takes place

b e tween them It is too late the poison has
.
,

begun t o work O h Beatrice thy m o uth

.
, ,

wears roses that do defy D eath exclaims ,

“
Guido and later on
, Who sins for love ,

” “
sins not to which Beatrice replies
, I have ,

sinned and yet mayhap shall I be forgiven I

, .

”
have loved much They kiss each other for
.

the fi rst time in this act and in a fin al spasm ,

she expires and h e snatching the dagger from

, ,

her belt stabs himself as the executioner

,

enters .
 Th e Ro m a n t i c D ra m a s 2 05

The play was read for copyright purposes in

M arch 1 9 07 by an amateur dramatic society
, ,

connected with S t J ames s Church Hampstead ’

R oad M r George Alexander lending his theatre

, ,

for the purpose It has been produced but with

.
,

out much success in America by Miss Gale and

,

the late L awrence Barrett and in 1 9 04 at one ,

o f the leading theatres in Hamburg The .

German production was however marred by a , ,

series of unfortunate incidents so that it can ,

hardly be held to have been a fair test of the

merits of the play The Guido had a severe cold
.
,

and during Beatrice s long speech in the last act

’
,

when he is supposed to be asleep kept on spoil ,

ing the situation by repeated sneezes while the ,

D uchess herself was uncertain of her words .

O u the third night the C ardinal went mad

on the s t age and had t o be taken o ff to an
asylum .

The D uchess of Padua is much more a

play for the study than the stage although re ,

p le t e with dramatic possibilities for its gloomy ,

character would always militate against its

success in this country The plot is fin e ly
.

elaborated and yet perfectly clear The char

, .

act e risat io n is keenly aware of the value of

contrast in art and packed with a psychology

which buried as it is nevertheless is j ust and
, ,

accurate No one can read the truly poetical

.

dialogue with its stat ely cadence and rich volume

 VE R A , OR T HE NI H I L I S T S

AND now in the survey of the R omantic Dramas

we come to a play totally di fferent from any
other work of the author s — “
V era or the ’

Nihilists .

This is a melodrama pure and simple the ,

action taking place in R ussia in 1 7 9 5 It is .

“
described as A D rama in a prologue and four
”
acts and was written in 1 8 8 1 Badly pro
, .

du c e d and acted in America it was printed for

private circulation .

The dramatis person ae are

P E RS O N S IN TH E P RO L O GUE
P ETER S A B O U RO F F
( an Innk p ee er
) .

V E RA S ABO U RO FF
( h i s D u ght
a er
)
.

M I H A EL ( a P
C e asa nt ) .

C OLO NE L K T O EM K I N .

P E RS O N S IN TH E L
P AY

I A N THE C A R
V Z .

P RIN C E PA L M U A R AL O F F S K I M ini t
s er of Ru i a)
ss .

P RIN C E P ETR O IT C H V .

CO NT R U O U V AL O F F .

MA R Q I S D U E PO I V RA R D .

B A R N RA O FF .

GE N E RA L K O TEMK I N .

A PA E G .

2 07
208 O scar W ild e
Nihi lists

P ETER T C H E R N A V I TC H, P re s id nte of th e Nihili t s s .

M IC H AE L .

A L EXI S I V AN A CI EV I TC H, kn wno as a S tud e nt of M di in

e c e .

PR O F ES S O R MA R A F .

V ER A S AB O U RO F F .

S ldi C n p i at
o e rs, o s r o rs, e t c .

S n M w Tim
ce e, o sc o . e, 1 8 00 .

The plo t is brie fly as foll o ws

D mitri S ab o uro ff the son of an innkeeper is , , ,

with other prisoners on his way to an e x ile in ,

Siberia to which he has b een sentenced for par

t icipat io n in Nihilist conspiracies The b and o f .

prisoners in its melancholy progress halts at the

paternal inn Dmi tri is recognised by his sister
.

V era and manages to pass her a piece of paper

,

on which is written the address of the Nihilist

centre together with the form of oath used on
,

j oining Then the old innkeeper recognises his

.

son and tries to get to him as the prisoners are

being marched o ff The colonel in charge of the .

detachment ( Ko t e mkin ) closes the door on him ,

and the old man falls senseless to the ground .

A peasant admirer of V era s ( Michael ) kneels ’

down and tends the stricken father while Vera

recites the oath : To strangle whatever nature
is in me neither to love nor to be loved neither
to pity nor to be pitied neither to marry nor to
”
be given in marriage till the end is come , .

This tableau ends t he prologue .

 Th e Ro m a n t i c Dra m a s 2 09

In the first act the Nihilists are assembled at

their secret meeting place and are anxiously
waiting the return of V era who has gone to a ,

“
ball at the Grand Duke s t o see the Czar and ’

”
all his cursed brood face to face .

Amongst the conspirators is a young student

of medicine Ale x is who has incurred the sus
, ,

icio n s of V era s admirer Michael the most

’

p , ,

uncompromising of the revolutionists V era

m
.

returns with the news that artial law is to be

proclaimed She is in love with Ale x is and
.

reproves him for running the risk of being

present Meanwhile Michael and the President
.
,

confer together Michael proposes to don the

.

uniform of the Imperial Guard make his way ,

into the courtyard of the palace and shoot the ,

C zar as he attends a council to be held in a room ,

the exact location of which he has learnt from

Alexis H e has followed Ale x is and seen him
.

enter the palace but has not seen the young man
,

come out again though he had waited all night

upon the watch .

V era defends Alexis whom the conspirat ors

wish to kill S uddenly soldiers are heard out
.

side the conspirators resume their masks as

,

K o t e m k in and his men enter In reply to his .

inquiries V era informs him that they are a

company of strolling players H e orders her .

to unmask Alexis steps forward removes his

.
,

mask and proclaims himself to be the Cz arevi t ch !

,

O
 Th e Ro m a n ti c Dra m a s 2 1 1

venge himself for his dismissal Alexis has not .

obeyed the summons to the meeting and in spite ,

o f V era s protests is sentenced to death The

’
.

implacable Michael reminds her of her brother s

fate and of her oath She steels her heart and
.

demands to draw with the others for the honour

of carrying out the sentence on Alexis It falls .

to her and it is arranged that she shall make her

,

way to the Czar s bedchamber that night Paul

’

having provided t he key and the password and ,

stab him in his sleep Once she has carried out

.

her mission she is to throw out t he bloodstained

dagger to h e r fellow conspirators who will be
-
,

waiting outside as a signal that the C zar has

,

been assassinated .

The fourth act is set in the an t echamber of the

C zar s privat e room where the various ministers
’

are assembled discussing the Czar and his plans of

reform (h e has already dismissed his guards and
ordered the release of all political prisoners ) .

Alexis enters and listens to their conversation .

Stepping for ward he dismisses them all depriving ,

them of their fortunes and estates L eft alone .

he falls asleep and V era entering raises her hand

, ,

to stab him when he awakes and sei z es her arm

, .

H e tells her he has only accepted the crown that

she should share it with him V era realises that
.

she loves him and that she has broken her oath .

A love scene follows Midnight strikes the .

,

conspirat ors are heard clamouring in t he streets .

2 1 2 O scar W ild e
V era stabs herself throws the dagger out of the
,

window and in answer to A le x is s agonised

,
’

What have you done 7 replies with her dying

breath I have saved R ussia
, .

The play as I have already said is quite

, ,

diff eren t fr o m any other of Wilde s and in read ’

ing it one cannot help regretting that he did not

turn some of his attention and devote a portion
of his great talents t o the reform of English
melodrama H e might have founded a strong
.
,

Virile and healthy dramatic school and by so

, ,

doing raised the standard of the popular every

day play in this country Nevertheless that .
,

V era was not a success when produced is

”

not to b e wondered at apart from the fact of ,

its having been Vilely acted Pure melodrama .

,

especially despi t e a very general idea to the

,

contrary requires an acquaintance with tech

,

nique and stage mechanism that is only o bt ain

able a fter many years of practice A t this .

period the author had not enj oyed this practice

in technique Nevertheless the play is e sse nti
.
,

ally dramatic and had M r Wilde at this early

time in his dramatic career called in the assist
ance of some e x perienced actor or s t age
manager with a very little alteration a per
,

fe ctly workmanlike drama could have been

made out of it The prologue and the first act
.

could have been run into one act divided into

two separate scenes More incident and action .
 Th e Rom a n t ic D re mas 2 1 3
could have been introduced into Ac t Two and
some of the dialogue curtailed Acts Three and
.

Four want very little revision and it would have

,

been easy to introduce one or two female

characters and perhaps a second love interest .

S ome light comedy love s cenes would have

-

helped to redeem the gloom of the play and

a fforded a valuable contrast to the intensity of
the hero and heroine in their amorous converse .

The dialogue is crisp and Vigorous and the

language at times of rare beauty It is a pity .

that such a work should be wasted and it is ,

to be hoped that some manager will have the

astuteness and ability to produce it in a good
acting form The experiment would certainly
.

be worth trying .

The play as a whole is certainly not one o f i t s

author s fi ne st productions As has been said it
’
.
,

was written before he had mastered stage tech

nique and learned those secrets of dramaturgy
which in later years raised him to such a pinnacle
of fame as a dramatic author Yet it can be.

said of it with perfect c o n fi de n c e that it is far

and away superior to nine tenths of modern and
-
,

successful melodramatic plays Indeed when

,
.
,

ever we discuss or criticise even the less im

portant works of Oscar Wilde we are amazed
at their craftsmanship and delighted with their
achievement The most unconsidered trifl e s
.

trom his pen stan d out among similar pro

 THE F L O R E N TINE T R AGE DY

AN interesting story attaches to The Florentine

Tragedy a short play by Wilde which was
,

produced on 1 8 th J une 1 9 06 by the L iterary ,

Theatre Club .

The history of the play was related by M r

R obert B oss to a representative of The Tribune
newspaper .

The play was written he said “

for M r , ,

George Alexander but for certain reasons was,

not produced by him In April 1 8 9 5 M r .

,

Wilde requested me to go to his house and take

possession of all his unpublished manuscripts .

H e had been declared a bankrupt and I reached ,

the house j ust before the bailiffs entered O f .

course the author s letters and manuscripts of

,
’

two other unpublished plays and the enlarged

version of The Portrait of M r W H upon
‘
. . .
’

—
which I knew he was engaged had mysteriously
disappeared S omeone had been there before
.

me .

The thief was never discovered nor have we ,

even seen The Florentine Tragedy the M r ,

’

W H story or one of the other plays The

. .
’

, ,

Duchess of Padua since that time C uriously

-
.

enough the manuscript of the third play a

, ,

tragedy somewhat on the lines of S alomé was ,

’

21 5
2 1 6 O scar W ild e
discovered by a friend of M r Wilde s in a second ’

hand bookshop in L ondon in 1 8 9 7 It was sen t , .

to the author in Paris and was not heard of ,

again After his death in 1 9 00 it could not be

.

found With regard to The D uchess of Pad u a

.
,
’

the loss was not absolute for this play a fi ve , ,

act tragedy had previously been performed in

,

America and I possessed the prompt copy

, .

“ ’
To return to The Florentine Tragedy I .

had heard portions of it read and was acquainted ,

with the incidents and language bu t for a long ,

time I gave it up as lost Then after M r .

,

’
Wilde s death I had occasion to sort a mass of
,

letters and papers which were handed to me by

his solicitors Among them I found loose sheets
.

containing the draft of a play which I recognised

as The Florentine Tragedy B y piecing these .
’

together I was able to reconstruct a considerable

portion of the play The fi rst fi ve pages had .

gone and there was another page missing bu t

, ,

some 4 00 lines of blank verse remained Now .

the introductory scene of the single act of which

the play consists has been rewritten by M r
Sturge Moore and the Tragedy will be pre ,
’

sented to an English audience for the first time

at the King s Hall C ovent Garden next Sunday
’

, ,
.

O u the same occasion the L iterary Theatre

C lu b will give a performance of M r Wilde s
’

S alomé which as you know cannot be given

,
’

, ,

publicly in this coun try owing to the Biblica ,

 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 2 1 7
derivation of the subj ect But S alom e has .

been popular for years in Germany and it has ,

also been played in Sweden R ussia Italy and , , ,

”
Holland .

It seems that The Florentine Tragedy has

also been played with great success in Germany .

It was translated by Dr Max M e ye rfe ld and ,

was produced first at L eipsic and afterwards at ,

Hamburg and Berlin According to M r R oss .

,

The Florentine Tragedy promises to become

almost as popular with German playgoers as
S alomé is now .

The Florentine Tragedy as alre adyin dicat e d , ,

is a brief one act drama There are only three

-
.

characters : an old Florentine merchant his beau ,

tiful wife and her lover The simple plot may be

, .

b rie fl y indicated The merchant arriving sud

.
,

de nly at his home after a short a b sence fi n ds his ,

wife and his rival in her a ffections together at

supper H e makes a pretence at first of being
.

profoundly courteous and the ensuing conversa

,

tion (as need hardly be said ) is pointed epigram ,

matic and witty Then the old man gradually

,
.

leads up to what it becomes obvious had been

, ,

his fi x e d purpose from t he beginning H e draws .

the lover int o a duel This takes place in the .

presence of the wife who indeed holds aloft , , ,

a torch in order that the t wo swordsmen may

figh t the more easily The con t est wa x es fi e rce r
.
,

and the swords are e x changed for daggers The .

 Th e Ro m a n ti c Dra m a s 2 1 9
room Presently a broker s man came up to him
.
’

and inquired what he was doing in the room ,

and on his replying that fin ding the door open

he had walked in the man said then somebody
, ,

has broken open the lock because I locked the ,

”
door myself . This g e ntleman surmises that it
was from this room that various manuscripts that
have never been recovered were stolen
When the piece was produced by the L iterary
Theatre Club it suffered from inadequ ate acting .

M r George Ingleton was quite overweighted

by the part of Simone the Florentine merchant
, .

It is a part that requires an Irving to carry it

through o r at anyrat e an actor of great ex
, , ,

e rie n c e and for anyone else to attempt it is a

p ,

piece of daring which can only result in failure .

It is curious that the denouement which was ,

so severely handled by the critics when the play

was produced in B erlin was the part of the piece
,

that seemed most to impress an English audience .

The epigram and the praises of strength and

beauty provoked no protest or dissatisfaction as ,

those who had seen the German production ex

e c t e d they would nor was the audience in the
p ,

least shocked w hen the wife holds the torch for

her husband and lover to figh t nor when at the , ,

close of the encounter she purposely throws it

,

down This of course is the unlooked for

.
, ,
-

climax of the piece and the dramatic character

,

of the si t uation completely saved it .

 THE WOMA N C O V E R ED WI T H
J E WE L S

F I NAL LY we have arrived at what must always

be the most tantalising of all Wilde s play s b e ’

cause the M S has been lost and ver y little is

.

known about it It had for ti tle The Woman

.

C overed With J e we ls The only copy of it

.

known to exist a small quarto book of ruled

,

paper in the author s own handwriting was

’

“
presumably stolen with the copies of The
I ncomparable and Ingenious History of M r
W H Being the true S ecret of Shakespeare s
. .
’

S onnets now for the fi rst time here fully se t

,

forth and The Florentine Tragedy at the

, ,

time of the Tite Street sale But little is .

known about t he play a very few privileged -

persons having been favoured with a perusal

of it and the only information the public have
,

been able to gather ab ou t it is from an article

by a well kno wn book lover that appeared in a
- -

weekly paper I myself have not b een able to

.

dis cover any further information .

“ ”
The play was in prose and like S alomé , ,

was a tragedy in one act It was wri tt en about.

1 896 .

According to the writer of the art icle referred

to it was presen t ed by i t s au th o r t o a charm
,
“

2 20
 Th e Rom a n t i c Dra m a s 2 2 1

ing and cultured Mayfair lady well known in ,

H e goes on to say that she

”
L ondon S ociety .

allowed a fe w well known litte m teu rs to peruse

’
-

it but that the manuscript is now lost and that

,
.

he has not succeeded in tracing a second copy

anywhere There seems to be some confusion
.

here for if this were the only copy it could no t

,

have been stolen from the Tite Street sale as , ,

according to the b iography was the case One, .

thing at anyrat e appears certain and that is

, , ,

that there is no copy in existence or rather— for ,

if it was stolen it must be in someone s posses ’

—
sion available at the present moment It would .

be interesting to know how the lady to whom

the book was presented came to lose it Perhaps .

she herself destroyed it at the period when so

many of his friends were so anxious t o conceal
all traces of their friendship with its author .

Agai n the M S may only have been lent her

, .
,

and may have been returned by her to Wilde

before the crash A t an yrat e it seems in
.
,

credible that he should have parted with the

manuscript without keeping even a rough copy .

The point needs elucidation .

According to the writer of the article

There is little doubt that the lost tragedy by
—
Wilde was intended origi n ally like S alomé ‘
’

—for S arah B ernhardt It contains a part some

.

what like her I z eij l The period of the play is

.

that of the second century after Christ a century ,

 Th e Rom a n ti c Dra m a s 2 2 3
’
beautiful hair like a king s daughter and , ,

’
behold she is covered with Jewels
, .

A t last she mounts her litter and departs ,

and the men follow her The priest has been .

troubled tortured by her beauty H e recalls

, .

the melting glory of her eyes t he softly curving ,

cheeks the red humid mouth R ecalls too the

, .
, ,

wooing voice that was like rippling wind swept -

water Her hair fell like a golden garment ; she

.

was indeed covered with j ewels

, , .

E vening draws near and there comes to the

mouth of the cave a man who says that robbers
have attacked and murdered a great lady who
was travelling near that day They show the .

horror struck priest a great coil of golden

hair besmeared with blood Here the tragedy .

ends
One sees that The Woman C overed With ‘

J ewels is an outcome and one more expres

’

sion of that literary movement that gave u s

,

’
‘
S alambo Thais Aphrodite , Imperial ‘
,
’
‘
,
’ ‘

Purple and many more remarkable works of

,
’

a s chool or group of writers who wearied of

, , ,

the j ej zm e the effete and much else have

, , ,

sought solace for their literary conscience in a

’

penman s reconquest of antiquity Probably the .

old world story of Paphnutius and Thais inspired

-

the tragedy and Maeterlinck s plays s u ggested ’

its technique Who can know 7 Assuredly its

.

tragic picture of devotion passion cupidity and , , ,

2 2 4 O scar W ild e
murder would thrill and enthrall those who
could kno w it better than in this imperfect
portrayal The Woman C overed With
.

J e wels is worthy of the pen

’
wrote
’
‘
Salome and The Sphinx
,
’ ‘
.

“
Yet it is lost !
 PA R T

THE W R I TE R F AI R Y S T O R IE S
 THE F A I RY S T O R IE S

A L I TTL E girl who had kept her fift h birthday

j oyously in the garden of her father s home went ’

on the morrow to the great and grimy city which

was nearest to it We were to Visit the baz aars
.

and buy books and toys As we wen t through

.

t he great square in which the Town Hall stands

the small hand in mine told me that here was
something which we must stay to consider We .

stood at the base of the statue which the citizens

’
had raised in memory of a statesman s endeavour
and success S he looked steadily and long at
.

the figure of which the noble head redeemed

the vulgar in signifi can ce o f costume and pos t ure .

What did this man do uncle she asked

, ,

”
that he has been turned into stone ? I was
dreadfully startled for the horrid suspici o n darted
,

through my mind that my little niece had re

membered my talk with her father about modern
s culp ture and at fi ve years old had already begun
,

to pose . O f course it had to be stone not salt

,

in England she went on to say and I was re

, ,

assured ; she a t least was remembering L ot s ’

wi fe
.

It was in the later spring of 1 8 8 8 and when ,

the evening post brought me fresh from the

press The Happy Prince and O ther Tales ,
”

227
2 2 8 O sca r W ild e
the first story told me that O scar Wilde of ,

whom men even then had many things sinister

, ,

and strange to say had yet within him the heart ,

of a little child .

High above the city on a tall column s t ood , ,

t he statue of the Happy Prince .

”

When I was alive and had a human heart I

did no t know what tears were for I lived in the ,

Palace o f S ans S ouci where sorrow is not allowed ,

to en t er In the daytime I played with my com

.

panions in the garden and in the evening I led ,

the dance in the great Hall R ound the garden .

ran a very lofty wall b ut I ne ver cared to ask ,

what lay beyond it everything about me was ,

so beautiful My courtiers called me the Happy

.

Prince and happy indeed I was if pleasure be

, ,

happiness so I lived and so I died And now

, .

that I am dead they have set me up here so high

t hat I can see all the ugliness and all the misery
of my city and though my heart is made of lead
,

”
yet I cannot choose b ut weep .

Here strange to say is the note of pathos

, ,

which we hear again and again in the volume

of fairy stories which many men look upon as
Oscar Wilde s b est and most characteristic prose
’

work Time after time they make me murmur

.

V ergil s untranslatable line sun t lachi ymce 7 e7 um

’ ‘ ' ‘

et men te m mo rtalia tangi m t .

The felicity of expression is e x quisite and an ,

o pulent imagination lavishes i t s treasures in every

 Th e Fa i r y St o r i e s 22 9
story Our a uthor has come into full possession
.

of his sovereignty of words and every s entence

has its carefully considered yet spontaneous ,

charm Nevertheless O scar Wilde makes the

.
,

L innet his mouthpiece in the fourth story The

D evoted Friend The fact is that I told him
.
,

a story with a moral Ah that is always a very

.
’

dangerous thing to d o said the Duck— and I ,

’

quite agreed with her .

D angerous though it is Oscar Wilde essayed ,

the endeavour I do not think that children

.

would easily detect that amari aliqu id which

makes the fairy stories fascinating t o minds that
are mature and I am sure that many little ones
,

have revelled in the Swallow s stories of what ’

“
he had seen in strange lands when he told the
Happy Prince of the red ibises who stand in ,

long rows on the banks of the Nile and catch

gold fi sh in their beaks of the Sphinx who is as ,

old as the world itself and lives in the desert , ,

and knows everything ; of the merchants who

walk slowly by the side of their camels and ,

carry amber beads in their hands ; of the King

of the Mountains of the Moon who is as black ,

as ebony and worships a large crystal ; of the

,

great green snake that sleeps in a palm tree and -

,

has twenty priests to feed it with honey cakes ;

and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on
large flat leaves and are always at war with the
,

b u tt e rflie s .
 Th e Fa i r y St o r i e s 2 3 1

guiltless that taketh His name in vain and I , ,

who delight in the beautiful prose poems feel ,

that here the dead artist was not a t his

best.

S ome have said that there are no fairy stories

like Oscar Wilde s but Hans Andersen had
’

written before him and C harles Kingsley s

,
’

Water B abies was published lo ng before

”
The Happy Prince The Dane managed to
.

touch on things Divine without a discord and ,

Charles Kingsley s satire was not less keen than

’

O scar s but he could point his moral without

’

intruding very sacred things into his playful

pages and I wish that the two last sentences of
,

The Happy Prince could be erased .

I t is the gorgeous colour and the vivid sonorous

words that charm u s most It is easy to analyse .

these sentences and to note how pearls and

pomegranates and the hyacinth blossom and
, ,

the pale ivory and the crimson of the ruby

, ,

again and again glow on the pages like the

illuminations of the mediae val missal ; but each
story has its own peculiar charm .

The Nightingale and the R ose is a tale full

o f passion and tenderness and sad in the sorrow ,

of wasted sympathy and unrequited love .

S urely L ove is a wonderful thing It is more .

precious than emeralds and dearer than fine ,

Opals Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it

.
,

nor is it set fo rth in the market place It may -

.
2 3 2 O scar W ild e
not be purchased of the merchants nor can it be ,

weighed out in the balance of gold .

I can fancy Oscar Wilde writing thus in the

happy days of his early married life in Chelsea ,

in the little study where his best work was done ,

whilst memories of the C hapel of Magdalen

murmured in his brain and he heard again the
,

surpliced scholar reading from the lectern the

praise of wisdom which he transmuted into the
praise of love which was not wise It cannot .

be gotten for gold neither shall silver be weighed

,

for the price thereof It cannot be valued with

.

the gold of Ophir with the precious onyx or the

, ,

sapphire The gold and the crystal cannot equal

.

it and the exchange of it shall not be for j ewels

or fi n e gold No mention shall be made of coral
.

or of pearls : for the price of wisdom is above

rubies The topaz of E th o pia shall not equal it
.
,

neither shall it be valued with pure gold .

Throughout The S ong of the Nightingale

there is a reminiscence of that S ong of S olomon
which Wilde told a fellow prisoner he had -

always loved .

Many waters cannot quench love neither ,

can the floods drown it : if a man would give all

the substance of his house for love it would be ,

utterly contemned .

I n Th e S e lfi sh Giant another note is sounded

“
.

As we read it we pass into the mediae val age and ,

we think of the story of Christopher .

 Th e Fa i r y St o r i e s 2 33
The giant keeps the garden to himself and the
children that played in it are banished and ,

thenceforward its glories are gone In the garden .

of the S e lfi sh Giant it was still winter The .

birds did not care to sing in it as there were no

children and the trees forgot to blossom The
, .

Snow covered up the grass with his great white

cloak and the Frost painted all the trees silver
, ,

but anon there came a child who wept as he

wandered in the desolated garden and the S e lfish ,

Giant s heart melted ; once again the children s

’ ’

voices are heard and the garden flo u rish e s as it

did before and the Giant grows old and watches
,

from his chair the children at their play I .

”
have many beautiful fl o we rs he said but the , ,

children?are the most beautiful fl o we rs of it all ,

till at last the grey old Giant finds again in his

garden the child who had fi rst touched his hard
heart but when he cam e quite close his face
grew red with anger and he said W h o hath
, ,

dared to wound thee for on the palms of the

child s hands were the prints of two nails and
’

the prints of two nails were on the little feet .

‘
Who hath dared to wound thee ? cried the ’

Giant tell me that I may take my big sword

, ,

and slay him N ay answered the child

.
’

,
’
bu t ,

’
these are the wounds of love .

The D evoted Friend is altogether in another

vein As the fi rst story is fragrant of the East
.

and the second mediaeval in its memories so the ,

 Th e Fa i r y St o r i e s 2 35
is sure to be appreciat ed some day and he sank ,
’

down a little deeper into the mud And the .

last sentence of all is terribly sinister I knew .

‘

I should create a sensation gasped the R ocket ,

’

”
and he went out .

The House of Pomegranates was published

in 1 8 9 1 and is dedicated to C onstance Mary
,

Wil de Here in a volume which the author

.
,

“
frankly calls a volume of Beautiful Tales ,

is a very stern indictment of the social system

“
which in his essay The S oul of Man Oscar
, ,

Wilde had so powerfully denounced We know .

how profoundly that essay has influ e n ce d the

minds of men in every country in Europe .

Translated into every tongue it has taught

the o ppressed to resent the callous cruelty
of capital but I doub t if its author was
,

altogether as earnest as he seems H ere in .

,

the s t ory of the young King we have a lighter ,

t ouch It is as though the writer hesi t ated b e

.

tween two paths In the year 1 8 9 5 the wrong

.

path had b een taken if we may trust the record

of a conversation which to o k place in that
year .

To be a supreme artist said h e one must , ,

fi rst be a supreme individualist .

You talk of Art said I “ ”

as though there
, ,

were nothing else in the world worth living

3,
for
.

“
For me said he sadly t here is no t hing else
,
“
, .
2 3 6 O scar W ild e
But when Oscar Wilde dedicated The House
of Pomegranates to his wife the love of Beauty
and the love of humankind still seemed to go
together .

The young King is possessed with a passion

for beauty The son of the old King s daughter
.
’

by a secret marriage his childhood and early

,

youth have been obscure and he comes into his

,

kingdom suddenly W e see him in the Palace

.

where are gathered rich stores of all rare and

beautiful thi ngs and his l o ve for them is an
instinct The author in some exquisite pages
.

tells u s of the glories of the King s house Here ’

.
,

as in the o ther book of which I have written ,

the mind of the reader is helped to realise how

beautiful luxury may b e I must quote the de
.

scription of the young King s sleeping chamber ’

-

“
The walls were hung with rich tapestries
representing the Triumph of Beauty A large .

press inlaid with agate and lapis lazuli fi tt e d

, ,

one corner and facing the window stood a curi

,

o u sl wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of

y
powdered and m o saice d gold on which were ,

placed some delicate goblets of V e n e tian glass

and a cup of dark veined onyx Pale poppies .

were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed ,

as though they had fallen from the tired hands

of sleep and tall reeds of fl ut e d ivory bare up
,

the velvet canopy from which great tufts of

,

os trich plumes sprang like white foa m t o the ,

 Th e Fa i r y St ori e s 2 37
pallid silver of the frett ed ceiling A laughing .

Narcissus in green bronze held a polished mirror

above its head O n the table stood a flat bowl
.

”
of amethyst .

But on the eve of the coronation the King ,

dreams a dream H e is borne to the weavers

.
’

quarter and marks their weary toil and the ,

weaver of his own coronation robe has terrible

things to tell him .

“
In war answered the weaver the strong
, ,

make slaves of the weak and in peace the rich ,

make slaves of the poor We must work to .

live and they give u s such mean wages that we

,

die We toil for them all day long and they

.
,

heap up gold in their co ffers and our children ,

fade away before their time and the faces of ,

those we love become hard and evil We tread .

out the grapes and another drinks the wine

, .

We sow the corn and our own board is empty , .

We have chains though no eye beholds them ;

and are slaves though men call u s free
,
.

Sic v o s non nobis ! The artist in words is

still haunted by his master V ergil s verses and ’

he had not listened to R uskin all in vain The .

Pagan point of View is not that which prevailed

in those happy months when The House of
Pomegranates was written Perhaps R uskin s .
’

socialism made no very deep impression but ,

C hristian Ar t had its message once for Oscar

Wilde .
 Th e Fa iry St o r i e s 2 39
which an O xford man of years ago cannot forget ,

and I wonder if this s t ory of the young King

was not written some time before those others
which complete the book .

The Birthday of the Infanta does not give

me the same delight It is of course clever as
.
, , ,

all was that Oscar Wilde ever touched but it is ,

cruel whilst it accuses cruelty And now and .

then we have a sentence or a phrase which seems

to have escaped revision The story of the little
.

dwarf who made sport for the princess and whose

heart was broken when he found that she was
pleased not by his dances but by his deformity
, , ,

is not like its predecessor in the volume and the ,

picture of the little dwarf lying on the ground

and beating the floor with his clenched hands did
not need the awkward addition in the most
fan t astic and exaggerated manner But every .

poet of course aliquaudo do rmitat and I would

, , ,

rather appreciate than criticise .

Two more sto n es complete this beautiful book

and I think I have not said yet how beautiful
the type and binding and engravings are of this
edition of 1 8 9 1 in which I am reading If ever .

it is reprinted it should have still the same

sumptuous setting forth .

I V ilde himself described the f o rmat of the book

in the following passage M r Shannon is the
drawer of the dreams and M r R icketts is the
,

subtle and fantastic decorator Indeed it is to .

,
2 4 0 O scar W ild e
M r R icke t ts that the entire decorat ive design
of the book is due from the selection of the
,

type and the placing of the ornamentation to ,

the completely beau t iful cover that encloses

the whole .

The artistic beauty of the cover resides in

the delicate tracing ara besques and massing of
, ,

many coral red lines on a ground of white ivory

-
,

the colour e ffect culminating in certain high gilt

notes and being made still pleasurable by the
,

overlapping band of moss green cloth that holds -

the book together .

The Fisherman and his S oul recalls many ,

stories and is very weird in its conception We .

think of Undine and of Peter S ch m e ide l and his

shadow ; and again there is a reminiscence of
The Arabian Nights Yet once more it is the
.

old burden of the song L ove is better than wis

dom and more precious than riches and fairer
, ,

than the feet of the daughters of men The fire s .

cannot destroy it nor can the waters quench

,

”
it . But in the story there is seen distinctly
the strong attraction which the R itual of The
C atholic C hurch had for O scar Wilde Those .

“
who have read that fi n e poem R ome U n ,

”
visited which even the saintly recluse of the
,

Oratory at Edgbaston could praise will under ,

“
stand how in the story of the Fisherman and
his S oul it is written .

“
The Priest went up to the chapel t hat he ,
 Th e Fa i r y Sto r i e s 24 1

might show to the people the wounds of the

L ord and speak to them about the wrath of
,

God And when he had robed himself with his

.

robes and entered in and bowed himself upon

,

the altar he saw that the altar was covered with

,

strange fl o we rs that never had been seen before ,

and after that he had opened the tabernacle and ,

incensed the monstrance that was in it and ,

shown the fair wafer to the people and hid it ,

again behind the veils he began to speak t o the ,

”
people .

And now I come to The Star C hild —in -

s cribed to Miss Margot Tennant .

“
H e was white and delicate like swan ivory ,

and his curls were like the rings of the da ffodil .

His lips also were like the petals of a red flower

, , ,

and his eyes were like violets by a river of pure

water and his body like the narcissus of a fi e ld
,

”
where the mower comes not B ut his heart .

was hard and his soul was se lfi sh and his evil ,

ways wrought m lsch ie f all around ; so bitter

sorrow fell upon him and his comeliness departed ,

and in pain and grief he was purged from his

sh L

This last is indeed a beautiful story and not ,

once is there sounded the mocking note of

cynical disdain of men If one had taken up .

this tale and known not whose pen had traced it ,

he would not hesitate to place it in his children s ’

hands .

Q
 PA R T V

THE POET
 P OEM S

a keynote were wanted to Oscar W ilde s

’
IF
verse it might be found in a couple of stanzas by
the poet whose work perhaps had the greatest
share in m o ulding his ideas and fashioning his
style Charles Baudelaire with all his love of
.
,

the terrible and the morbid was an incomparable ,

stylist and in these lines has almost formulat ed

,

a creed of ar t .

La N atu t t mpl re e s un e e 011 de vivant p ili s e rs

L i nt p f i
a sse ti d ar o s so r r e co nfu p a l ;
se s ro e s

L h mm y p
’
o at v e asse ra e rs des f et d ymb l or s e s o es

Qui l b t av
’
o d se rv e n ec e s re ga d f
r s mili a e rs .

Comm d l n g é h q i d l in
e e nf nd nt
o s c os u e o se co o e

Dn ténéb u t p f nd unité
a s un e re se e ro o e ,

V t mm l nuit t mm la l té
as e c o e a e co e c ar ,

Lesp fum l ul u t l n é p nd nt
ar s, e s co e rs e e s so s se r o e .

We can picture to o urselves the young O xford

student studying these lines over and over again
till they had become part and parcel of himself .

Wilde himself has left it on record that he

cannot imagine anyone with the smallest pre
tensions to culture preferring a de x terously t urned
triolet to a fi n e imaginative ballad In the
maj ority of his poems the beauties of nature , ,

fl o we rs the song of birds and the music of run

,

ning water are introduced either incidentally o r

245
 Poems 24 7
imitation and study His Views o n the subj ect
.

of simplicity in verse should be read by all who

desire to understand his method and do j ustice
to his work .

We are always apt to think he wrote that , ,

the voices which sang at the dawn of poetry

were simpler fresher and more natural than
, ,

ours and that the world which the early poets

,

looked at and through which they walked had

, ,

a kind of poetical quality of its o wn and could ,

pass almost without changing into song The

, , .

snow lies t hick now upon Olympus and its ,

scarped sides are bleak and barren but once , ,

we fancy the white feet of the Muses brushed

,

the dew from the anemones in the morning and ,

at evening came Apollo t o sing to the shepherds

in the vale But in this we are merely lending
.

to other ages what we desire or think we desire , ,

for our own O ur historical sense is at fault

.
,

Every century that produces poetry is so far , ,

an art ifi cial century and the work that seems to

,

u s the most natural and simple product of its

time is probably the result of the most deliberate

and self conscious e ffort For nature is always
-
.

behind the age It takes a great artist t o be

.

”
thoroughly modern .

”
R avenna the poem with which O scar Wilde
,

won the Newdigate Prize we fi nd to be far above ,

the average of such e ffusions though possessing ,

most of the faults inherent in compositions of

24 8 O sc ar W ild e
this kind Grace and even force of e x pression
.

are not wanting with here and there a pure ,

strain of sentiment and thought and a keen ap ,

preciation of the beauties of nature Ever and .

anon we come across some sentence some tour ,

n ure de p hrase which might belong to his later

w o rk as for instance
,

Th e u b d ( th at m a m n f fi
cro c s e se e s oo o re

R und gi dl d with pu p l m a i ag in g)
o - r e a r e rr e -r .

But for the most part the poem is rather re

minisce nt of C hilde Har o ld s Pilgrimage and
’

is ch ie fl y interesting by reason of t he promise

it holds forth .

The poems published in 1 8 8 1 are preceded by

some dedicatory verses addressed to his wife
which are characterised by great daintiness and
simplicity instinct with tender a ffection and
,

chivalrous homage .

H elas which forms a sort of preface t o the

,

collection is ch ic fl y interesting on account of

,

the prophetic pathos of the lines :

Su ly th w tim I might h av t d
re e re as a e e ro

Th unlit h i ght a d f m lif di n n

e s e s, n ro
’
e s sso a ce

St u k r c l a h d t a h th
one c e f G r c or o re c e e ars o od
.

A veImperatri x will come as a surprise to

those unacquainted with Wilde s works Mos t ’
.

people would have thought the author of Dorian

Gray the last man in the world to write a stir
ring patriotic poem which would not be out of
 P oe ms 24 9
place in a collection o f M r Kipling s works A ’
.

copy of The World containing this poem found

its way to an o ffi c e r in L ord R obert s force ’

marching on C andahar and evoked the e n ,

t h u siasm and admiration of the whole mess As .

a proof of the author s originality and care in the ’

choice of similes he purposely discards the modern

h eraldic device of the British lion for the more
correct and ancient leopards as ,

Th e y ll w l p a d t ain d d l an
e o eo r s, s r e an e ,

Th t a h
e reu Ru i an kn w w ll
c e ro s ss o s so e

W ith g p in g bl k n d j aw
a n ac e e s are se e

L p th u gh th h ail f
ea ro min g h ll e o scre a s e .

There is a fi n e swing about the metre of this

verse and the description of the leopards as
,

strained and lean is a piece of word painting ,

a felicity of expression that it would be diffi c u lt

to improve o n The whole poem is tens e with
.

patriotic fervour nor is it wanting in exquisitely

,

pathetic touches as for instance ,

Pl
a e m n wh h a l
wo e o ve os t th i l d
e r or

W ill ki th li f th
ss e re cs o e s a l in
S m t ni h d p ul tt
o e ar s e e a e e — m w d
so e s or

P t y t th u h
o or o s o so o e s c an gui h d p in
s e a .

In v ain th l u ghin g gi l will y a n

e a r e r

T g
o t h l v with l v lit y
re e er o e o e- e es

D wn in m t h u vin
o so e re ac e ro s ra e,

C lut hin g th fl g th d ad b y li
c e a ,
e e o es .

That he should have written such a poem is

proof conclusive of the author s ex t raordinary
’

versatility and though a comparatively early

,
 5 P oe m s 2 1

tired This lo oking on flo wers as real live

.

sentient things was no mere pose with him .

H e was thoroughly imbued with t he conviction

that they were possessed of feeling and through ,

out his poetical work we shall fin d endless appli

cations of this idea .

O f particular interest in this poem are the

verses descriptive of the various poets his con ,

temporaries Swinburne he alludes to most

.

happily as far as the neatness of phrase is con

,

cerned nothing could be better in this regard

than
And h h ath ki d th lip f P
e sse e s o ro se r pin e

And un g th G lil n qui m

s e a ea
’

s re e .
”

William Morris our sweet and simple ,

C haucer s child
’
appeals t o him strangely
,
”
.

’
Many a summer s day he informs u s he has
“
lain poring on the dreamy tales his fancy
weaves . His appreciation of M orriss verse is ’

keen and en t husias t ic .

littl lau gh f wat f llin g d wn

Th e e o er a o

I ts nomu i al th l mmy g ld
so s c , e c a o

Cl h a d d in th tiny wa n t wn
o se o r e e xe o

Ha l f w tn in it ”
s e ss o s ee e ss .

W ha t a delicate metaphor that is what an ,

e x quisite p o et s fancy No t Keats himself could

’
.

have surpassed the clammy gold close hoarded

in the tiny waxen town — it is wor t hy to rank
with some o f t he dain t ies t fligh ts in t he Queen
2 5 2 O scar W ild e
Mab speech that modern Mercu t ios murder
,

so ab ominably .

L ike every verse writer o f his t ime Oscar

Wilde had felt the wondrous infl ue nce o f
R ossetti and no fi ne r tribute to the pain t er
,

could be written than the lines

All th W ld f h im e or or

A g g u l u d v titu mu t w a
or e o s co o re es re s e r,

And S w tak a p u pl di ad m
o rro e r e e ,

O l b
r e se m S w d D pai
e no o re o rro ,
an es r

Gild it w th n
s o d Pain lik Ad n b
n or s, an , e o , e

Ev n i An gui h b autiful ; u h i th m p y whi h

e n s e s c s e e er c

Paint h ld e rs e .

There is a stately splendour a b o u t t he flow of

”
a gorgeous coloured vestiture and one pauses ,

to admire the choice of the last word and can ,

’
picture the poet s delight when like an artist in ,

mosaic who has hit upon t he stone to fill up the

remaining interstice he lighted on the word It , .

is essentially Ze mot j uste no other could have ,

fille d its place S o also is there a pec uliar

.

“ ”
happiness in the use of empery There is a .

volume of sound and meaning in the word t hat

could with diffi cu lty b e surpassed .

In fact in his ch o ice of words Wilde always

,

and for ever deserves the glowing words of

praise that B audelaire addressed to Theodore
de Bonville
V u v p él é v t
o s a ez r ass o re o r
g u il d a hei t t
’
rc ec e

D n d n t u ti n
a s e s co s r c o s d nt l d
o
’
au t ace c o rre c e

F it v u qu ll
a o v r e e se ra t v t m atu ité
o re o re r .
”
 Poems 2 53
And when we come t o a line like
Ag in t th p allid hi ld
a s e s e

O f th e wa ky t h alm nd b l
n s e m gl am o o sso s e

we realise how thoroughly the praise would be

deserved and linger lovingly on the lilting music
,

of the words and the curious J apane se setting of

the picture evolved The poem ends on a note
.

like the drawing in of a deep breath of country

air a fter a prolonged soj ourn in towns .

“ W h y so o n
Th e wo o dm an will be h ere ; h o w we h v liv d thi ni ght
a e e s of

J un e .

“
In R equiescat quite a di fferent note is
reached The poem was written after the
death o f a beloved sister ; the sentiment rings
true and t he very simplicity of the language
conveys an atmosphere of real grief that would
have been entirely marred by the intrusion of
any decorat ive or highly coloured phrase The -
.

choice of S a x on words alone could produce

the desired e ffect and t he author has realised
,

this and made use almost exclusively of that

material Nor was he ill advised to let him
.
-

self be in flu e n ce d so far as the metre is con

“
cerned by Hood s incomparable ’
Bridge of
”
Sighs and it was not in the metre alone that
,

he availed himself of that priceless gem of Eng

lish ver se
 Poem s 2 55
and again
L k uth ward wh e re R m d e se at e d t wn
oo so o e s
’
cr o

L i m u ning f h G d an int e d Kin g

es o r or er o - o

L k h av e n wa d ! Sh all G d all w thi thing

oo e r o o s

N t but
o m fl am e gi t Rap h a l h all m d wn
so e -
r e s co e o ,

And mit s e th e Sp il o er with t h e swo r d of p a in .

In S an Miniato the infl ue nce of R ome upon

the young man s mind fi n ds expression in words
’

which might have been written by a son of t he

L atin Church .

0 n d by G d with th n a
c ro w e o or s nd p a in !
M th f C h i t ! 0 my ti wif
o er o r s s c e !
M y h a t i w y f thi lif
e r s e ar o s e

And v ad t in g g in
o er s o s a a ,

he writes and ends with the invocat ion

,

O n d by G d with l v a d fl m
cro w e o o e n a e l
O wn d by C h i t t h H ly O
c ro e ' rs e o ne

0 li t n s e th hin g
e re e sco rc sun

Sh w t th w ld my i a d h am
o o e or s n n s e .

Nor can it be wondered at that the devotion

to the Madonna which forms so essential a
feature of the C atholic Faith should impress his
young and ardent spirit as it does nearly every
artist to whom the poetic beauty of this side of
It naturally appeals .

The Pope s captivity moved him again and

’

again to express his indignation in verse and ,

“
from his poem Easter D ay we can gather
,

how deeply he was impressed b oth by the stately

ceremonial at S t Peter s and by the sight of the ’
2 5 6 O sc a r W ild e
despoiled Po n tifi A t this time als o he seems
'

to have been more or less yearning aft er a more

spiritual m o de of life than he has been lead
ing at least so one gathers from poems like
,

E Te n e b ris in which he tells u s that

Th e w in e of lifn th nd
e is s pil u p t o e sa ,

M y h a t i a m f min mu d d l n d
e r s s so e a e- r e re a

Wh n
e ll g d thin g h v p i h d utt ly
ce a oo s a e er s e er

And w ll I kn w my ul in H ll mu t b
e o so e s e,

If I thi ni ght b f G d th n h uld t nd

s e o re o
’

s ro e s o s a .

That he had Visions of a possible time when a

complete change should be worked in his spiritual
condition seems clear from the concluding lines
”
of R ome Unvisited .

Bf
e o re
y ont m b lin
fi e ld gg ld of re o

I g n
s d int du ty h v
ar e re o s s ea es

Or e reth utumn e a l tl v ’
s scar e ea es

F lutt a bi d ad wn th w l d
er s r s o e o ,

I m y h av
a th gl i u
e run e or o s rac e ,

And u ght th t h whil y t fl

ca e o rc e e a am e ,

And all d up n th H ly n am
c e o e o e

O f Him wh w d th hid H i f
o no o e s ac e .

Apart from the light these poems throw upon

his mental and spiritual attitude at that period ,

they are extremely interesting as revealing the

literary in fl u e n ce s governing him at the time I .

have already referred to the resemblance between

his sonnets and the more fin ish e d ones of D ante
Gabriel R ossetti and this point cannot b etter
,

be illustrated than by placing the work of the

tw o men in j u x taposition .
 Poems 2 57
If we take for instance , , R ossett1 s L ady of the
”
R ocks .

M o ththi th d kn
e r, isf th d s e ar e ss o e en ,

Th Sh d w f D th ?e d i th t ut
a o o ea an s a o e r se a

I fi i t immin nt Et nity
n n e e er ?

And d th d th p n g b y m n
oes d u t in d
e ea -
a a
’

s se e s s a e

In Tim h in t nt u thy f t b nd
’
e s e ac s a ca se ac e o e

It il nt p y p n t h S whil H
s s e ra er u o e on, e e

Bl t h d d with H i h n d il ntly
e sse s e ea s a s e

T H i l n g d y whi h h u
o s o m ff nd
a c o rs n o o re o e ?

M th f g th p i diffi lt
o er o rac e , e ass s cu ,

K n th
ee as k d th b wild d ul e se ro c s, an e e e re so s

Th n g it li k h blin dly hu dd in g th u gh
ro e ec o e s, s er ro .

Thy n m 0 L d h p i it v i
a e, t l or ,
e ac s r
’
s o ce e x o s,

Wh p bi d in t h d k v nu
o se e ac e a es e ar a e e

Amid th bitt n f thin g

e ult er e ss o s o cc .
”

and compare it with E Te n e bris We are at .

once struck with the same mode of expression ,

the same train of thought and the same deep

note of pain in the two poems .

And again take Wilde s Madonna Mia ’

I t d by th
s oo i t g bl e un v n a ea e se a

Till th w t w d n h df e d h i with
e
'

av e s re c e ac e an ar sp y
ra ,

Th l n g d fi f t h dyin g d y
e o re re s o e a

Bu n d in th w t t h win d pip d d ily ;

r e e es e e re ar

And t th l n d th l m u g ll did fl
o e a e c a o ro s u s ee :

Al I i d m y lif i f ll f p in
as cr e , e s u o a ,

And wh g n f uit g l d n g in
o c an ar e r r or o e ra ,

F m th w t fi ld whi h t v il
ro e se l ly
as e e s c ra a c e ase e ss

M y n t g p d wid with m ny b k d fl w
e s a e e a a re a an a

N thl I th w th m my fi l t
a e ss re e as na c as

Int th d w it d f
o th d
e se a, an a e or e en .

W h n 1 l a ud d n gl y !
e 0 dI w s e or an sa

F m th bl k w t f my t t d p t
ro e ac a e rs o o r u re as

Th g nt pl nd u f
e ar e whit limb nd I s e o r o e s asc e

R
 P o e ms 2 59
There is one especially fine bit of imagery
Th e l t l av whi h h al t h
o u s- e es c e e wo und s of d ath
e

L i in thy h nd
e a

which bears the very truest imprin t of poetry .

With the poet s return to England a reaction ’

t ook place and the sight of English woodlands

,

and English lanes caused a strong revulsion o f

feeling .

Thi En gli h Th am i h oli fa th an R m e

s s es s er r o

Th h a b ll lik
o se udd n fl h f a
re e s e a s e us o se

B akin g
re th w dl n d with t h f am
ac ro ss e oo a , e o

O f m d w w t a d whit
ea n m n
o -
s ee n e a e o e,

T fl k th i b lu wav
o ec —G d i lik li th
e r e e s, o s e er e re

Th n hidd n in th at y t al h a t d t a th p al m nk
a e cr s -
e r e s r e e o s
”
b e ar .

The green fi e lds and the smell of the good

brown earth come as a refreshing contrast to the
incense laden atmosphere of foreign cathedrals .

And yet his fancy delights in commingling the

“ ”
two In the Violet gleaming butt e rflie s he
.
-

fi n ds R oman Monsignore (h e anglicises the word

by the way and gives it a plural a lazy pike
is some mitred old Bishop in p ai tihis and
“ '

The wind the restless prisoner of the trees

, ,

does well for Palestrina .

H e revels in the contrast that the re freshing

simplicity of rural England presents to the pomp
and splendour of R ome The lingering orange .

“
afterglow is more fair than all R ome s lord ’

“
liest pageants The blue green b e anfi e lds -

tremulous with the last shower bring sweet er

2 60 O sc ar W ild e
perfume at eventide than the odorous flame
”
j ewelled censers the young deacons swing .

Bird life suggests the conceit that

P oor F ra Gi vanni b wlin g at th M
o a e ass,

W e re t f tun
ou w f o m ll b e no or a s a ro w n bi d r

Sin g v h d s o er ea .
”

His love of nature his passion for flo we rs and ,

the music of nature fi nd continued and ecstatic

expression .

Sw ee ti s th e swa ll o w w t itt in g er on th e v
ea es .

Everything appeals to him the heavy lowing ,

cat tle stretching their huge and dripping mouths

”
across the farmyard gate the mower whetting ,

his scythe the milkmaid carolling blithely as she

,

trips along .

Sweet th hip u p n t h K nti h l

are e s o e e s e as,

And w t th win d th t lift th w m wn h y

s ee e a s e ne - o a ,

And w t th f tful w m f g mblin g b

s ee e re s ar s o ru ees

Th t un d d un d th lind n bl m pl y
a ro an ro e e o sso s a

And w t th h if b athin g th t ll
s ee e e er re on e s a

And th g n b u ting fig th t h n g u p n th
e re e rs s a a o e re d

b i k w ll
rc a .
”

No matter that he mixes up the seasons some

what and that having sung of bursting figs he
refers in the next line to the cuckoo mocking
, ,

the spring when the last Violet loiters by the

well — the poem is still a pastoral breathing
its fresh flower fille d atmosphere of the English -

c ountryside W ilde is however saturated with

.
, ,

classical lore and ( th o ugh on some minds the

 P o ems 2 61
fantasy may j ar ) he introduces D aph n u s and
L inus Syrinx and C yt h e rae a
, But he is faithful .

to his English land he talks of roses which all ,

day long in vales ZEo lian a lad might seek for

and which overgrows our hedges like a wanton
co u rtesan unthrifty of its beauty a real Shake
, ,

“ ”
spe are an touch Many an unsung elegy he .
,

“
tells u s Sleeps in the reeds that fringe our
,

H e peoples the whole

”
winding Thames .

countryside with faun and nymph

S m Mw d gi l with vin l v
o e na h b t r e ea e s on er re as

W ill fil h th i b c h nut f m th l pin g P n

e r eec -
s ro e s ee a s,

S o softly th t th littl n t d th u h
a e e es e r s

W ill n v w k e d th n will h illy l u gh

er a e , and l e s r a an ea p will
uhr s

D wn th g n v ll y wh th f ll n d w
o e re e a e e re e a e e

L i thi k b n th th lm d unt h t
es c e ea e e an co e r s o re ,

Till th b wn S ty in j lly w
e ro a rs a o c re

T mpl t h l t i f d wn l n g th h
ra e e o o se r e o a o e s o re ,

A d wh
n th i h n d m t it in t t
e re e r or e as e r s s s a e

B in g t wb i
r s rad bl m y plum u p n wi k
e rr e s an oo s o a c e r c ra e t .

And yet the religious infl u e n ce still makes itself

fel t
.

Wh y mu st
I b h ld [h l im ! e o e e xc a s

Th w whit f
e f th t d
an t d Ch i t e ace o a e se r e r s

Wh b l din g h nd my h nd di d n
o se ee nf ld ? a s a s o ce e o

but it is only momentary and once more ,

sports with the sylvan gods and goddesses till

Th e h np h m w d f m th m
e ro asse s o e ar ro e e re ,

Th blu mi t e p m ng th hiv in g t
e s c re e s a o e s er re e s,

G l d w l d by w l d th il nt t
o or pp or e s e s ars a e ar

A d li kn bl m bl w —b f th b z
e a o sso o s e o re e re e e

A whit m n d ift a eth himm in g ky

oo r s cro ss e s er s .
 P o ems 2 63
And th gl m e oo of th e wy h lm h ll
c e
’
s o o w is lit with th i i e rs

h n
s ee

O f t h bu ni h e r s e d ra inb ow th ro a t an d th e silv er bre as t of

a d v o e .

Impression du Matin might be said to be a

successful attempt to render a Whistler pastel
into verse but there is a human note about the
,

last verse that elevates the poem far above such

a mere tou r de f o rce and there is a fi n e sense of ,

“
e ffect in the picture of the pale woman all
alone standing in the glimmering light of the
gas lamp as the rays of the sun j ust touch her
hair .

“ “
A S erenade and Endymion possess all
the qualities that a musical setting demands ,

but do not call for especial comment It is .

,

however in L a Bella Donna della mia M ante

,

that the expression of the poet s ge n ius finds ’

vent .

As a p m
o e gra n at e , cut in t w in
a ,

W hit e -
se e d d
e ,
is h e r cr i m n m uth
so o

is as perfect a metaphor as one could well wish

to h nd .

Ch arm ide s
is a more ambitious e ffort than
anything he had yet attempted The word .

painting is obviously inspired by Keats for ,

whose work he had an intense admiration .

Su ch lines as C ame a great owl with yellow

sulph u rous eyes and V ermilion fin n e d with
“
,
-

eyes of bossy gold might have been t aken ”

2 64 O scar W ild e
straight out of L amia so truly has he caught
,

the spirit of his master But if enamoured of

.

Keats s gorgeous colouring Wilde revelled in the

’

construction of j ewelled phrase and crimson line ,

there is another source of inspiration noticeable

in the poem Had Shakespeare never written
.

V enus and Adonis Wilde might have written

,
”

”
Ch arm ide s but it would not have been the
same poem The di fference between the true
.

poet who has studied the great verse of bygone

ages and the mere imitator is that one will pro
duce a work of art enhanced by the suggestions
derived from the contemplation of the highest
conception of genius whereas the other will out
,

run the constable and merely accentuate and

b urlesque the distinguishing characteristics of
the work of others In the case in point whilst
.
,

we note with pleasure and interest the points of

resemblance between the poem and the models
that its author has followed we are conscious ,

that what we are reading is a work of art in

itself and that its intrinsic merits are enhanced
by the points of resemblance and do no t depend
on them for their existence .

There is another poem — “

Ballade de Mar
guerite — which recalls memories of Keats ,

“
closely resembling as it does L a B elle D ame
”
S ans Merci . R arely has the old ballad form
been more successfully treated We catch the .

very spirit of medi aevalism in the lines

 P oems 2 65
P h n h i kn lin g in St D ny
e rc a ce s e s ee . e s

( O h
n ul m
e r so
y L dy h v g m m a
y o ur a a e ra e rc

Ah if h i p yin g in l n h p ll
, s e s ra o e c a e e

I mi ght win g t h n s d in g t h b ll e ce se r an r e e .

It is so easy to overdo the thing to produce ,

a bad counterfeit made up of Wardour Street

English that to retain the simplicity of language
,

and the slight soup pon of C haucerian English

requires all the skill of a master craftsman and ,

the intimate knowledge of the value and date of

words that can only result from a close acquaint
ance with the works of the ballad writers .

In The Dole of the King s D aughter Wilde ’

again essays the ballad form but this time the ,

treatment shows more traces of the R ossetti in

fl u e n ce
. The ballad spirit is maintained with
unerring skill and the form perfectly adhered to
throughout To quote good old Izaak W alton
.

old fashioned poetry but choicely good

-
.

As conveying the idea of impending tragedy

nothing could be more e ffective than the sim
pli cit y of the lines

Th e re are th t id f m th uth a
t wo a r e ro e so n d e as t
An d t w f m th n th a d w t
o ro e or n es ,

Fo r t h bl e k v n g dly f t
ac ra e a oo e as

Fo r t h kin g d u ght t ’

e s a e r re s .

In this ballad as in the C hanson he uses the

old device so common in ancient ballads of
, ,

making the alternate lines parenthetical as for , ,

ins t ance
 P o em s 2 67
Than the graceful introducing o f Keats s poem ’

no more delicate epitaph could be well imagined .

S helley s last resting place likewise inspired his

’
-

pen and there is an Impression de V oyage

“

written at Katakolo at the period of his Visit to

Greece in company with Professor Mahaffy the ,

concluding line of which I stood upon the soil ,

of Greece at last conveys more by i t s reticence

,

than could be expressed in volumes .

O f his fi v e theatrical sonnets headed Impres

”
sions de Theatre one is addressed to the late Sir
,

Henry Irving and the three others to Miss Ellen

Terry It is curious that of the three Shake
.

spe are an characters he mentioned as worthier of

the actor s great talents than F abie nde i Franchi

’

—V iz L ear R omeo and R ichard I I I —

.
, the only
, .
,

one that Irving ever played was R omeo and in ,

that part he was a decided failure which con , ,

side rin his peculiar mannerisms and method as

g ,

well as his age at the time was not to be ,

wondered at The fi fth was probably intended

.

for Madame S arah Bernhardt whose wonderful ,

rendering of Ph edre could not fail to deeply

impress so cultured a critic as the author of these
poems .

“
In Panthea O scar Wilde gives rein to his
amorous fancy and inspired by the poets of
, ,

Greece and R ome peoples the world with gods ,

and goddesses who mourn the old glad pagan

days
2 68 W ild e O scar
B k t th i l tu h unt th y tu gain
ac o e r o s- a s e rn a

Ki in g a h th m uth
ss e c d mi m o d p er s
’
o s, an x o re ee

Th p ppy
e d d d u ght whi h b in g
o -
se eft pu p l
e ra c r s so r e

lidd d l p e s ee .

How rich is the language here employed how ,

”
exquisite the lilt of soft purple lidded sleep -
.

N o t even Tennyson in The L otus E aters has

done anything better than this And how .

delicately e x pressed is the idea embodied in

the lines
Th in th g n h a t f m ga d n l
e re e re e e r o so e r e c o se

Qu n V nu with th h p h d at h id
ee e s e s e er er s e,

H er w m ft b dy lik th b i a
ar so o e e r r ro se

W hi h h uld b whit y t b lu h
c s o t i t p id
e e e s es a s r e

o r, how t ender the fancy that inspired

So wh n m bu y b n ath th y w
e en r us e e e e

Thy im n t in d m uth a
cr so will b
-
s a e o ro se e,

And thy ft y lu h blu b ll dimm d with d w

so e es s e e s e e .

None but a poet could have written those

lines ; the stately wording of the second line is
purposely chosen to enhanc e t he perfect simplicity
of the third .

The poems comprised within The F o urth

“ ”
Movement incl ude the Impression Le ,

R eveillon the fi rst verse of which runs

,

Th e d with fitf l d
sk
y i s ac e l u re ,

Th i li g mi t d h d w fl
e c rc n s s an s a o s ee,

Th d wn i
e i in g f m th
a s r s ro e se a,

L ik whit l ady f m h b d
e a e ro er e

which inspired the parodist with

 Poems 2 69
M O RE I MP RE SS IONS
( y
B Oscuro Wildgoose)
D ES S PO N ETTES

My littl f n y l gg d with gu h
e a c
’
s c o e s ,

M y littl ly i f l in t ne re s a se o e,

A d wh n I ly i lly m n
n e r ca oa ,

I h a t h im p ti nt iti Tu h
e r e a e cr c s
’

But I Im p i n Th
’
ve
g nd !
re ss o s .
’
e se are ra

M d b f w d m bl b f tint
e re a s o or s, e re o s o ,

D i pl y d
s n
a e in p int o n ca vas o r r ,

M l ud a d think th y und t nd
en a ,
n e e rs a .

A mudg f b wn m
s f y ll w
e o ro a s e ar o e o

ubj t —th y
, ,

N t lo a e, no s ! ec e re o u are

Imp i n — d th t an g t f
,

re ss o s an e s r es ar

I —th t t h b d a l v f ll w ’
s a e ar s c e er e o .

I quote th e two parodies to show how little

Os car Wilde s verse was appreciated by his con
’

temporaries There is an unfairness and mis

.

representation about them which is signifi can t

’
of how the poet s poses and extravagancies had
prej udiced the public mind .

In the two love poems A pologia and Quia

multi Amori a deeper key is stru ck and a note ,

of pain predominates There is a restraint about .

the ve rsifi c atio n and the colour of the words

that strikes the right chord and tunes the lyre
to a subdued no t e .

The underlying passion and regret fi nd their

supreme expression in the lines
Ah h d t th u lik d m l
a s dl v d m m
o e e e ss an o e e o re ,

Th u gh ll th
ro a umm d y f j y d in
o se s er a s o o an ra ,

I h d t wb n
a no no w h it ee so rro
’
s er or

O t d a l k y in th H u f Pain
r s oo ac e e o se o .
 Poems 2 7 1

Once more we note how the fl o we rs are

personalities for him a View which could not ,

long es cape the humorists of P unch and which ,

was amply taken advantage of by the writer of

some burlesque verses t wo of which are su ffi ,

c ie nt ly amusing to quote

My l o n g lith e lily my l n guid lily , a ,

M y l nk limp lily l v h w h ll I wi
a - o e, o s a n

\V o o th t wi nk t m
ee o Sil lily a e ? ve r ,

Ho w h all I i g t th
s ftly
s n h lly P o e e , so or s n

Wh at h ll I w av f th —whi h h ll I p in
,

s a e e or ee c s a s

R nd l n d u vi l y
o e ,
o r ro ea ,
or re a ?

S h ll I buz l k b W th m f th t i
a z i e a e e, i y ac e ru s n

Thy h i h t h li
c h
o ce , c m tin as e c a ce, or c o o se e a

T ump t t u hi gly t nd ly pl y
r e , or o c n , e er a

O th w i d bi d whi tl
n e w t th
e r i r - s e, s ee e r an s n,

Th at I b u ght f h lfp nny y t d y o or a a e , es er a ?

M y l n guid lily my l nk lim p lily

a ,
a ,

My l
n g lith lily l
o m m y g in
, e -
o ve , en a r

S y th t I m ft d up m ly illy
’

a a so an s re e s

Wh t
’
a I whil y wh p tilly
c are e ou 1s er s

“th t a I whil y
a mil
c N t
re pin 3 e ou s e
?
o a

mil whil y W hi p —T w t
,

W hil y e ou s e, e ou s er
’

1s s ee

t d yI o e ca

I h w t d with h l di t
av e f h g in
a e re c o ro ne, e ars o c a r ,

Th hu hy d m uld I h v pl nt d th m
e c rc ar o a e a e ee ,

Up id d wn in int n w ys e o ,
an e se a ,

I u gh d fl w p t w t th i
n a ro re o e r- o ,
s ee e r an s n,

Th t I b u ght f h lfp nny y t d y !

a o or a a e , es er a

Nature appeals to O scar I V ilde in all her

moods and though he might at times assume
,

the pose of preferring art to nature he gives ,

e x pression to his real feelin gs when he ex

claims :
2 7 2 O scar W ild e
Ah m h w lif i bi gg aft
so e o e s er e r all

Th n y p aint d A g l uld w
a an e n e co e se e

Th G d th t i within
e o a s us

The lines speak for themselves and are strongly

indicative of his attitude towards nat ure and
at that period The tr ue spirit of C atholicism
.

had gripped him ; the in flu e n ce of R ome was

at work though enfeebled and remained laten t
, ,

within him till in his hour of passing he found

peace in the bosom of the great Mother who ,

throughout the ages has always held out her

arms to the sinner and the outcast .

There has always been a certain amount of

mystery attached to another poem of Wilde s ’

called The Harlot s House written at the ’

same period as The Duchess of Padua and

The Sphinx — that is when he was living in ,

the Hotel V o lt aire It was originally published

.

in a magazine not later than J une 1 8 8 5 It is a .

curious t hing that all researches up to the present

as to the name of the pu blication have proved
fruitless and that the approximate date of the
,

appearance of the verses has been arrived at

by reference to a parody entitled The Public
House which appeared in The Sp orting Times
,
”
,

of all papers in the world on 1 3 th J une 1 8 8 5 ,

.

First an edition of the poem was brought out

,

privately by the Methuen Press in 1 9 04 with

fi ve illustrations by A lthea Gyles in which the ,

bizarre note is markedly though artistically , ,

 Poems 2 73
dominant Another edition was privately
.

printed in L ondon in 1 9 05 in paper wrappers .

The idea of this short lyrical poem is that the

poet stands outside a house and watches the
“
shadows of the puppet dancers race across
the bl ind .

The dancers swm g m a waltz of Strauss

“
the Treues L iebes Herz like strange
mechanical grotesq u es or black leaves wheel
ing in the wind The marionettes whirl in the
.

ghostly dance and ,

S m tim a l kw k pup p t p
o e es d c oc or e re sse

A ph nt m l v t h b t
a o o er o er re as ,

S m tim th y m d t t y d in g
o e es e se e e o r an s .

The man turns to his companion and remarks

that the dead are dancing with the dead but ,

drawn by the music she enters the house As .

L ove enters the house of L ust the gay seductive

music changes to a discord and the horrible ,

shadows disappear Then the dawn breaks .

,

creeping down the silent street like a

”
frightened girl .

That is all but as a high specimen of imagina

,

verse it stands alone That the author was in .

S pired by memories of B audelaire and Poe is

beyond dispute Nevertheless the poem in .

, ,

conception as well as execution is essentially ,

original The puppet dancers motif was after

.
’

wards introduced by him with telling e ffect as

we shall see later in The Ballad of R eading
 Poems 2 75
A nouns t app e lleront une caricature ,
’

Q ui n e co mp remi ent p as, amants ivres de chair,

L é légance sans n o m de l humaine armature,
’ ’

Tu rep o nds, grand sque lette, d man go ut le p lus Cher

’

V iens tu tro ubler,-

avec ta p uissante g im a r
ce ,
'
L aj éte de la V ie ou ue l ue view : dé sir,
q q
Ep e ro mz ant enco r ta vivant carc asse,
Te p ousse t il, cré dule, d a sabbat da Plaisir 9
- -
.

Au chant des vio lo ns, aux

fl ammes des bo ugies,
E sp e res- tu chasse r ton cauche mar mo queur,
‘

Et vie ns- tu demander da to rrent des o rgies

De f i f allumé
’
ra ra chir l ei g e r dans to n cce ur 9
.

I nép uisable quits de so ttise e t de f autes

D e l antiqu e do uleur é terne l alamhie
’

A trave rs te treillis reco urbe de tes chtes

’

Je vo is, e rrant enco r, l insatiable asp ic

’

Po ur dire vrai,
j e G rains
q ue ta co uetterie
q
N e tro uve p as 1 m p rim digne de ses efibrts
Qu i, de ces stears mo rte ls, entend la m illerie 9
.

L es charmes de l h o rreur les f o rts

’ ’
n e n ivren t ue
q

L e go ztfire de tes yeux, p le m d h o rri ble pense es,

Exhale le vertige, et les danseurs prudei z ts
Ne mp lero nt p as sans d améres nause es
’ ’

co nte

Le s o urire é te rne l de tes trente deiz x de n ts -

.

Po urtant, qui n a s e rré d( ms ses bras un s ue lette,

q
E t qui ne s est no urri des chases da to mbeau 9
’

m m
’

Q i t i l h bi [
’

u
p o rte e
p j
a r t ,
a t o n a to i lette 9 .

Q ui f ait le dégo zi té mo ntre qu il se cro it beau

’ ’

B ayadere sans n ez irresistible go uge,

,

D is do ne ( 2 ces dans e urs qui f o nt les qfii i sgué s

'
F z e rs migno ns, ma/g 1 art aes p o udres et da ro uge,
o

i
rc

h o us sentez: to us la mart 0 squ e le ttes musques .

Antino us fl e lris, dandys ( i f labi

’

a
'
ce e,
g
Cadavres ve rniss es, lo ve laces ch emi s,

L e brai l le universe ! de la danse macabre

V o us i
e ntra ne e n des lieux qui n e so nt
p as co mz us
2 7 6 O scar W ild e
D es quais f ro ids de la S e in e aux bards brzi lants da Grange,
L e tro up eau mo rte l saute et se p cime, sans vo ir,
’

D ans tro u da p laf o nd la tro mp ette de l Ange

’
un

S inistrement bé ante ainsi qu un tro mblon no ir

’

E h to ut climat, so le il, la M o rt t admire

’
so us to n
E n tes co nto rsio ns, risi ble H umanite ,
’

Et so uve nt, co mme to i, se

p ar umant
f de myrrhe,
M éle
'
ironie 62 to n insanite
’

so n

The French poem lacks the simplicity and the

directness of its English fellow It appears .

overloaded and art ifi cial in comparison and ,

above all it lacks the music which results from

the j uxtaposition of the A nglo —
S axon a e i and , , ,

u sounds and the L atin ahs and ohs

, .

But on the other hand as an example of the

, ,

precious and artifi cial in literature a further ,

poem of W ilde s written at this period The ’

”
Sphinx reveals another phase of his extra
,

ordinarily versatile genius .

The metre of the poem is the same as that of

I n Memoriam though owing to the stanzas
, ,

being arranged in t wo long lines instead of the

fairly short ones in Tennyson s poem this might ’

at fi rst escape attention The poet at the time .

of writing we learn had

h dly n ar se e

S m t w nty umm
o e e t th i g n f Autumn
s e rs c as e r re e or
’

s
g udy
a

liv i er e s .

( which would seem to indicate that this part ,

at any rate was written at an earlier period than

,

the rest of the poem ) and in the very fi rst lines ,

he tells us that
 Poems 277

In a di m co r n er o f my m f l n g th an my f n y
ro o s ar o er a c

think s

A b utiful d il nt S p hin
ea an s e x t
h as wa ch e d m e th u gh th
ro e

il nt gl m
s e oo .
”

Day and night

thi s c ur o i u s c at

Li e u hin g
s c ro c on th e C hin e se m at w ith y e e s o f sa tin imm dr e

with g ld
”
o .

Here we have in a very few words an e x act

picture of this exquisite grotesque half woman -

and half animal whom after the ma n ner of

-
, ,

Edgar Allan Poe with his raven he proceeds to ,

apo st ro po h ise

Oh t ll m [h b gin ! w y t n din g by wh n I i
e e e e s e re ou s a e s s

t O i i kn lt ?
o s r s e

A nd did y w t h t h E gy p tian m lt h uni n f

ou a c e e er o or

Ant ny o ?
”

and plies her with many ques t ions of similar

nature Presently he adj ures her
.

L ift p y u
u l g bl k o r ar e ac sa tin y e es w hi h a lik u hi n
c re e c s o s

wh ink !e re o n e s s

F a wn t m y f t Sphin
a ee ,
x ! an d s in g m e all y u m m i
o r e or e s .

This idea of comparing the velvet depths of

the eyes to cushions where one sinks is quaint
and original though distinctly decadent nor is , ,

the note of the macabre wanting as ,

W he n th u gh ro th e p u pl
r e c o rr id
o rs th e sc re amin g sc ar e l t
Ibi fl w s e

In t e rro r, an d a h id o rr de w d ip p d f m
r e ro th e m nin g
oa

m n d aga r o re s .
 Poems 2 79
Wilde catalogues through the whole Egyptian
mythology ; he is inclined to give fi rst place to
“ ”
Ammon .

Yo u ki m uth with m uth f flam y m d

sse d h is o o s o e : ou a e

t h h n ed g d y u
e or w o o r o n

Yo u t d b hin d h i m h i th n y all d him by h i

s oo e on s ro e : ou c e s

tn m
se c re a e .

Yo u whi p d m n t u
s e re l int th v n f h i
o s ro s o rac e s o e ca e r s o s

e ars

W ith bl d f g t oo o o a s an d bl d oo t
o f s e e rs
y ou t u ght him
a

m n t u mi a l
o s ro s r c es .

D ecadent the idea may b e but how cleverly , ,

how subtly the e ffects are produced and how

well sustained is the atmosphere of chimerical ,

nightmare horrors Wilde makes use of the .

impression derived from the contemplation

of colossal figu re s the Egyptian galleries
of the L ouvre were one may be certain a , ,

—
daily haunt of his at the time and he de
scribes — “
Nine cubits span and his limbs are
“
Wide spread as a tent at noon but he was ,

of flesh and blood for all that .

H is thi k ft th t wa
c so ro a s w hit e as milk a d th n re a ed d with
thin v il f blu e s o e,

and he was royally clad for ,

“ Cu i u p a l lik f n de w w ro z e e re e mb i d dro e re on h is
r o s e r s e

fl ming ilk
a s .

His love of rare and beautiful things fi n ds an

outlet in the description of the j ewels and retinue
of the god .
2 80 O scar W ild e
“ B f e o re h is g ild d e ga lli t o ran nk d a e vi n e ~ wre ath e d co r y
b an t e s,
An d lin f w yin g l p h ant kn lt d wn
es o s a e e s e o to d aw
r h is
c h i t
ar o .

Barbaric splendour and E astern gorgeousness

we have here and in one line the sense of im
mense wealth is conveyed
Th e m an t p th t t u h
e es cu a o c ed h is li p s was fa hi n d f m
s o e ro

a h y lit !
c r so e .

But now
Th e go d i s tt d h a d th d p hid d n in th
sc a e re e re n e re : ee e e

w d in y n d sa

I s aw h i gi nt g anit hsand till l n h e

ad in im p t nt r e s c e c o e

d pai es r .
”

A nd he bids her
G k th f gm nt
o se e e ra e s on th e m oor an d was h th m in th
e e

v nin g d w e e e ,

And f m th i pi ro e r e ce s mk a e n
a ew thy mutil t d p a e ara

m u o r .

With mocking irony he tells her to wake “

”
mad passions in the senseless stone .

H e counsels her to return to Egypt her lovers ,

are not dead

Th y will i up e r se an d h e ar y u vi
o r o ce

A nd l a h th i ymb l a d j i a
c s e r c a s n re o c e n d run to ki y u ss o r

m uth ! o

H e advises to
F o ll o w so m e ra vin g li n o
’
s s p o o r acro ss th e co pp e r- co o l u d re

pl ain ,
”

and take him as a lover or to mate with a tiger

 Poems 2 81
An d t y with him in m
o u j t a o ro s e s s, an d w h n
e he tu nr s

and n l a d gn w
s ar s n a s

O s mit him with y u j p l aw

e o r as e r c s an d b ui him with
r se

y u gt b at
o ra a e re s s

“
B ut her sullen ways pall on him her ,

presence fi lls him with horror “

poisonous and ,

heavy breath makes th e light flicker in the

”
lamp .

“
The poet wonders what songless tongueless
ghost of sin crept through the curtains of the
night . H e drives the cat away with every
“
opprobrious epithet for she wakes in him each
bestial sense and makes him what he would
not b e She makes his creed a barren shame
.
,

“ ”
and wakes foul dreams of sensual life and ,

with a return to sanity he chases her away .

G o thou before he cries , ,

l v m t my An d ea e e o c ru ci fix

Wh p llid bu d n i k with p ain w t h th

o se a r e s c a c es e wo r dl
with w i d y e ar e e es

A nd w p f v y ul th at di
ee s or e d w per so e s, an ee s fo r e v y
er

ul in pa n
so i .

On this note of pessimism and refusal the

poem ends In the realm of the fantastic it has
.

no equal and though the obj ection may be raised

that the whole thing is unhealthy the truth is ,

that it is merely an experimental excursion in

the abnormal It has all the fantastic unreality
.

of C hinese dragons and therefore can in no way , , ,

be harmful The nightmare e ffect has no lasting

.

influ e n ce We read i t as we would any other

.
 Poe ms 2 83
M athews and J ohn L ane and was limited to
,

two hundred copies issued at 4 2 3 with twenty .

fi ve on larger paper at l o5 s It was m agnifi .

ce nt ly illustrated by M r C R R icketts the

. .
,

delicacy and distinction of whose work is too

well known to need comment .

In striking contrast to th e artifi ciality and

decadent character of The Sphin x stands the
“

author s imperishable Ballad of R eading Gaol

’
.

What the circumstances were that led to the

writing of this great masterpiece have been
already su ffi cie n t ly dealt with in the earlier
portion of this work It has been aptly said
.

that all great art has an underlying note of pain

and sorrow beautiful work may be produced
,

without it but not the work that is worthy to

,

rank among the great creative masterpieces of

”
the world . Quand u n homme e t une poésie ,

“
writes Barbey d A u b re villy ont dévalé si bas
’

dans la conscience de l in cu rable malheur qui est

’

fond de toutes les voluptés de I e x ist e n c e poésie ’

e t homm e ne peuvent plus que remonter .

There can be no doubt that this poem could

never have been written but for the terrible
ordeal the poet had been through It is in co m .

arably Wilde s fi n e st poetic work—great not

’

p ,

only by reason of its beauty but great on ,

account of the feeling for su ffering humanity ,

his power to enter into the sorrows of others and

to forget his own trials in the sympathetic con
2 84 O sc ar W ild e
t e m plat io n of the agony of his fellow sufferers -

which it reveals The words of another dis .

t in gu ish e d French critic might alm o s t have been

written about him
“
D ésormais divorcée d ave c l e nse igne m ent ’ ’

historique philosophique e t scie ntifi qu e la poésie

, ,

se trouve ramenée a so fonc t ion naturelle e t

directe qui est de réaliser pour nous la Vie com
, ,

l m e nt aire du r eve du souvenir de l esp erance

’

p é , , ,

du désir ; de donner u n corps a c c qu il y a

’

d in saisissable dans nos pensées e t de secret dans

’

le mouvement de nos ames de nous consoler ou

de nous ch atie r par l e x pre ssio n de l ide al ou par
’ ’

le spectacle de nos Vices Elle devient non pas .

i ndividu elle suivant la prédiction u n peu hasar

,

de u se de l au t e ur de J o eelyi i mais p erso mi elle si

’

, ,

nous sous entendons que l ame du po ete est

-
’

nécessairement une am e collective une corde ,

sensible e t touj ours tendue que font Vibrer les

passions e t les douleurs de ses semblables .

“ “ ”
With C oleridge s Ancient Mariner ’
R ead ,

ing Gaol holds fi rst place amongst the ballads

,

of the world and by many critics it is held by

, ,

reason of its deep feeling and ang uished intensity ,

to be a fi n e r piece of work than the older poet s ’

ch
ef d
’
oeu vre .

’
Although the author s identity was concealed
under the cypher C 3 3 there was never a ,

moment s doubt as to who the writer was It

’
.

came as a shock to the British public that the

 Poems 2 85
man who but a couple of years before had stood in
, ,

the public pillory the man whose work the great

,

maj ority who had never even read it believed to

, ,

be art ifi cial meretricious and supe rfi cial should

, , ,

be the author of a deeply moving poem that

could be read by the most prudish and strait
laced .

The Ti mes that great organ of English respect

,

a bility devoted a leading article to it of a highly

,

eulogistic character The edition was sold out

.

at once and the book was on all men s tongues

,
’
.

Wherever one went one heard it discussed priest ,

and philistine were as loud in their praises of it

as the most decadent of minor poet s No poem .

had for a generation met with such a friendly

reception or caused such a sensation .

A critical notice of the poem from the pen of

L ady C urrie appeared in The F o rtn igh tly R e view
for J uly 1 9 04 In it the author writes of the
.

terrible Ballad of R eading Gaol with its

splendours and inequalities its mixture of poetic ,

farce crude realism and undeniable pathos

, , .

As to the crudeness of the realism that is a mere ,

matter of O pinion it is easy to supply an adj e c

—
tive it is more diffi c ult to j ustify the use of it ,

and give satisfactory reasons for its application .

R ealistic the poem doubtless is — crude never , .

but the writer shows a far keener appreciation

when she says — “
all is grim concentrated tragedy ,

from cover to cover A friend of mine L ady .

,
 Poem s 2 87
three stanzas concerning one of the prison o ffi cials

that it was deemed wise to suppress .

The poem bears the dedication

I N M E MO RI A M
C T . . W .

S m tim T
o e e ro o p y lH
er of t h e Ro a o rse Gu d ar s

O b il t , H M P i n R adin g B
. . r so , e , er k hi
s re

J uly 7 th 1 8 9 6 , .

The case of the troo per to whose memory the

work is dedicated excited a good deal of interest
at the time H e had a fi t of j ealousy murdered
.
,

his sweetheart and though public opinion was

,

inclined to take a merciful View of the crime ,

and a petition was presented to the Home

S ecretary for the with drawal of the capital sen
tence it was without e ffect and the extreme
, ,

penalty of the law was carried out in the Gaol

at R eading .

The fi rst li ne
H e did n ot w e ar h is scar e l t co a t
rivets the attention at once and as surely as do ,

”
the opening lines of The Ancient Mariner .

The reason for this is given at once

Fo r w bl d in e an d
d oo are re

A nd bl d d win woo h i h nd
an e e re o n s a s

W h n th y f un d h i m with t h d d
e e o e ea .

That the whole incident that led to the man s ’

being there should be co m municated in the

very fi rst stanza to make that stanza complete
, ,
2 88 O scar W ild e
is an artistic necessity and in the ne x t two lines
,

we are told who the Victim is

Th e p oo rd w m n wh m h l v d
de a o a o e o e ,

An d mu d d in h b d
r e re er e .

The tragedy is complete We have the pic t ure .

of the soldier deprived of his uniform and the

whole story is revealed to u s A more concise .

or supremely reticent des cription of the pathetic

drama there could not b e But the picture must .

be fi lle d in even to the most trivial detail and ,

we see the poor wretch taking his daily exercise

among the prisoners awaiting their trial attired ,

“
in a suit of shabby grey trying to demean ,

himself like a man and trivial but from the , , ,

artist s point of view important detail with a

’

, ,

cricket cap on his head There is a world of .

pathos and lines of unspoken tragedy in that

cricket cap worn by a man whose days are
numbered who never will play a game again
,

and whose mind must be occupied with thoughts

far removed from sport and amusement save
perhaps when they may revert to happy days
spent with bat and ball and which will never ,

recur again But though his step be j aunty the

.
,

oppression of his impending doom is on him ,

In v e e r saw a m an wh o l k d
oo e

So w s i tfully at th e day .
”

We can see that prison yard the circle of ,

convicts pacing the melancholy round at ordered

 Poe ms 2 89
intervals and with measured tread and the ,

strong man full of life and vigour looking up

,

at God s blue sky and drinking in the air with

’

greedy lungs We can see the author of the

.

poem the erstwhile social favourite in his con

, ,

Vict garb walki ng

I V i th o th ul in p in
e r so s a

\V i th i n n th in g
a o er r .

and his horror as he receives the information

muttered by some fellow prisoner through closed -

lips that
Th t f ll w
a e o
’
s ot
g to sw in g.

In words the simplicity and intensity of which

,

are sublime he tells u s of how the news a ffected

,

him
D a C h i t ! t h v e y p i n wall
e r r s e r r so s

Su dd nly e se e m dt e o re e l .
”

That apostrophe to the R edeemer is a revela

tion in itself coming from a man who is enduring
his own mortal agony but his particular sorrows ,

fade into in signifi c an ce and are forgotten in the

presence of a fellow creature s cru cifi x io n
-
’

“
A n d, th u gh I w
o as a so u l in p in a ,

M y p in I ul d
a co no t f lee .
”

Already he is pu rifi e d by his months of trial

and tribulation and he can enter sympathetically
,

into the sorrows of others and share their burden .

H e now understands the reason of the j aunty

step and the de fi ant manner he himself has tried ,

t o flee from his thoughts .

 P oems 2 9 1

Aram that incomparable masterpiece of another

,

poet who likewise was looked upon as a mere

,

j ester whose work should not be treated seriously ,

but who has left u s three of the fi ne st and most

deeply moving poems in the English language .

There is a striking resemblance in the wording

between the two poems but without disparaging ,

Hood s work there can be no possible doubt as

’

to which is the greater and more noble achieve

ment .

Another stanza elaborates the theme still

further and the fact is recorded that tho u gh
every man kills the thing he loves yet death is ,

not always meted out to him .

He d o es not di e a d th f h am
ea o s e

On a day o f d ar k di g s rac e ,

No r hv na e a o o se a b ut h i n k
o s ec ,

N l th up
or a c o o n hi f s ac e

Nor d p f t f
ro ee o re m t th u gh th fl
os ro e oor

Int a m p ty
o n e pa
s ce .

Within these grim prison walls all the horrible

details of execution obtrude themselves upon the
wretched captive H e has tasted the horrors of
.

solitary c o nfi n e m e nt of being spied on night and

,

day by grim taciturn warders wh o at frequent

, ,

intervals slide back the panel in the door to

,

observe through the grated opening that the

prisoner is all right S o he can feel all the .

torture that a man under sentence of death

must go through at having to
2 9 2 W ild e O scar
S it with il nt m s e en

W h wat h him ni ght d d y

o c an a ,

W h w t h him wh n h t i t w
o a c e e r es o ee p
A d wh n h t i t p y
”
n e e r es o ra .

The ceaseless watch that is kept on the poor

wretch lest he should be tempted given the o p ,

“
p o rt u n it
y to
, rob the prison of its prey by
doing Violence on himself the whole grim cere ,

’
monial of the carrying out of the law s decree
are conj ured up by him H e pictures the doomed .

man awakened from sleep by the entrance of the

S heri ff and the Governor of the Gaol accompanied
,

by the shivering C haplain robed in white He .

dwells on the hurried toilet the putting on of ,

the convict dress for the last time whilst the

doctor takes professional stock of every nervous
symptom It is to be hoped that the lines de
.

scriptive of the doctor are purely imaginative

one must hope for the credit of the medical
,

profession that it has no foundation in personal

,

experience Then there is the awful thirst that

.

tortures the victim and anoth er introduction

’
of an apparently trivial detail the gardener s ,

”
gloves worn by the hangman But the detail .

is not trivial its introduction a dds to the ghast

,

line ss of the scene The reading of the Burial

.

S ervice over a man yet living is another realistic

touch that serves its purpose With him we can .

enter into the agony of the condemned wretch

as he prays
 Poems 2 93
with li p s of c a ly
Fo r h is ago ny t o p ass .

Wilde proceeds with the strict narrative H e .

tells u s how for six weeks that Guardsman walked

the prison yard still wearing the same suit and
his head covered with the same incongruous
headgear .

Still does he cast yearning glances at the sky ,

And at e v y w nd in g l ud th at t ail
er a er c o r ed

I t s ra v ll d fl
e e by e e ce s .

But the man is no c o ward he does not wring his ,

hands and bemoan his fate he merely kept his ,

eyes on the sun and drank the morning air .

The other convicts forgetful of themselves ,

and their crimes watch with silent amazement

,

The man who had to swing H e still carries .

himself bravely and they can hardly re alise that

he will so soon be swept into eternity ; and then
a perfectly medi ae val note is struck
For h av p l nt l av
o ak an d e l m e e asa e es

Th t in t h S p i gtim h t
a e rn e s oo

B t g im t
u r i t h g ll w t
o se e s e a o s- re e

W ith i t dd b itt n
s a te r- e ro o

A nd g n d y m a mu t di
re e or r a n s e

B f it b a i t f uit
e o re e rs s r .
”

There we h ave the true spirit of the old ballads .

The comparison between the oak and elm in the

S pring putting forth their leaves and the gaunt , ,

bare timber of the gibbet with its burden of dead

human fruit is a highly imaginative and artistic
 Po ems 2 95
A p i n wall w und b th
r so as ro us o

Tw ut t m w w
o o c as en e e re

Th w l d h d th u t
e or f m hi ha r s us ro s t
e ar ,

A nd G d f m t Hi o ro ou s c are

A nd th i n gi th t w it f S in
e ro n a a s or

H d u ght in it n a ”
a ca us s s re .

The lines in their supreme reticence indicate

precisely the agony and despair that fille d the
heart of C 3 3 and once again a comparison with
,

Eugene Aram is forced upon u s .

The third period starts with a picture of the

doomed man and a scathing bit of satire directed
against the prison o ffi cials The wretch is shown .

to u s watched day and night by keen sleepless ,

eyes debarred even for a brief second of the

,

privilege of being alone with his thoughts and

his misery .

Then a small detail is introduced to heighten

the e ffect of the grim picture
A nd th i r ce a day h e m k d h i pip
s o e s e

And d ank h i
r s
q u t
ar f b o eer .
”

There is quite a Shakespearean note in this

introduction of these commonplace details which ,

proves how thoroughly Oscar Wilde had studied

the methods of the great dramatist .

But he leaves the condemned cell to paint the

e ffect the whole ghastly tragedy being enacted
within those grey walls had upon the other
prisoners To a highly strung and supe rse n si
.

tive nat ure like t he writer s the strain mus t have ’

2 9 6 O scar W ild e
been terrible The captives went thr ough the
.

allotted tasks of picking oakum till the finge rs bled ,

scrubbing the fl o o rs polishing the rails sewing , ,

s acks and all the other daily routine of prison life

, .

B ut in th h e t f v ym
e ar o e er an

T e rro r was lyin g till s

until one day returning from their labours they

, ,

”
passed an open grave and they knew that the ,

execution would take place on the morrow They .

saw the hangman with his black bag sh uffling

through the gloom and like cowed hounds they ,

crept silently back to their cells Then night .

comes and Fear stalks through the prison but ,

the man himself is wrapt in peaceful slumbers .

The watching warders cannot make out

How ul d l p
o n e co s ee so s we e t l
a s ee p
W ith h an gm n l
a a c o se at h an d .

Not so with the other prisoners the fool the ,

fraud the knave

, sleep is banished from their -

cells they are feeling another s guilt and the

,
’

hardened hearts melt at the thought of another s ’

agony The warders making their noiseless

.
,

round are surprised as they look through the

,

”
wickets to see gray fi gure s on the floor They .

are puzzled and wonder

Why men kn lt t p y e o ra

Wh o n v p y db f
e er ra e e o re .

All through the long night they keep their sacred

Vigil .
 P oems 2 97
Th g y
e k w th d
re co c c re , e re co c k cre w

But n v m th day
e e r ca e e ,
”

and their imaginations people the c o rners and

shadows with shapes of terror The marionette .

dance of death of these ghostly Visitants is as

fi n e a bit of word painting as can b e found any
-

where The idea is an amplifi cat io n of the

mo tif of The Harlot s House but how im ’

measurably superior how much more artistically

,

effective the most cursory comparison of the two

poems will make apparent .

A t last the fi rst faint streaks of day s t eal

through the prison bars and the daily task of
cleaning the cells is performed as usual but the ,

Angel of D eath passes through the prison and ,

with parched thr o ats the prisoners who were ,

kept in their cells while the grim tragedy was

being enacted wait for the stroke of eight the
, ,

hour fi x e d for the carrying out of the sentence .

As the first chimes of the prison clock are heard

a moan arises from those imprisoned wretches .

A t noon they are marched out into the yard ,

’
and each man s eye is turned wistfully to the
sky j ust as the condemned man s had been
,
’
.

They notice that the warders are wearing their

best uniforms but the task they have just been
,

engaged upon is revealed by the quicklime on

their boots The murderer has e xpiated his crime
.
”
,

A nd th im n t in th t wa
e cr so s a a s of Cain
B e ca m Ch i t n w whit
e rs
’

s s o -
e se a l .
”
 PA R T

T HE F I C T I ON W R ITE R
 F I C T I ON

T H A T the gift of composing b eautiful verse and

the ability to write gracefully and wittily in prose
does not of necessity enable an author to produce
good fi ctio n is a truism that requires no elabora
,

tion That the novelist should possess style is

.

n u i —
a s e g d z o n that is if his novels are to take
i ,

their place as works of art and not merely achieve

an ephemeral success amongst the patrons of cir
c u lat in
g libraries —but to achieve distinction in
the fi e ld of romance many other qualities are
requisite To begin with the story must be of
.
,

su ffi cie n t interest to hold the attention of the

reader the dialogue must be brisk and to the

,

point and the delineation of character a gift

,
—
—
in itself lifelike and convincing .

Whether Oscar Wilde would had his life been,

prolonged have ever achieved success in this

,

branch of literature is one of those vexed ques

tions which may well be left to those speculative
persons who love to discuss The Mystery of
”
Edwin Drood and other u nfinish e d works of
fi ct io n .That he was endowed with an extra
ordinarily Vivid imagination and that his versa
t ility was marvellous are factors that no one
should neglect to take into account when con
side rin the matter His own contributions to
g .

30 1
 F i c tion 3 3
0

that his work in this other fi e ld of letters was

great is never for a moment to be even suggested .

H e used fi ct io n as a means of introducing his

curiously topsy turvy Views of life but his
-
,

characters are mere puppets strange creatures ,

with unreal names without any particular per

,

so n alit y or especially ch aracteristic features who ,

enunciate the author s Views and opinions

’
.

In a preface to D orian Gray when it was ,

published in book form Oscar Wilde himself

,

co n fi rm s this View The highest and the lowest

“
form of criticism he tells u s is a mode of
, ,

autobiography . That he himself believed in

the artistic value of his story is evident from the
series of brilliant aphorisms which constitute the
preface.

When in J uly 1 8 9 0 there appeared in an

, ,

American magazine the fantastic story of

“ ”
Dorian Gray an astonished public rubbed
its eyes and wondered whether all its previous
theories as to this class of work had been
absolutely false and should henceforth be dis
carded like a garment that has gone out of
fashion.

The story provoked a storm of criticism which ,

for the most part only served to increase the

,

sale of the magazine in which it appeared In .

answer to his critics the author contented himself

with the dictum that Diversity of opinion about
a work of art shows that the work is new com ,
 0
3 4 O sca r W ild e
ple x and Vital
, Whether The Picture of
.

”
D orian Gray possessed these three essential
qualities is a question which may best be answered
by giving a short resu me of the story itself .

Basil Hallward a young artist wh o some years

, ,

previously had caused a great sensation by his

,

disappearance has painted a full length portrait

,
-

“
of a young man of extraordinary personal
beauty .In conversation with L ord Henry
Wotton who is Visiting the studio he inadve rt
, ,

ently reveals that it is the portrait of D orian

Gray and alleges as his reason for not exhibiting
,

the picture that he has put too much of himself

into it ; and pressed for an explanation he tells
, ,

the story of his meeting the original of the paint

ing at a S ociety function and how deeply he had ,

been impressed by his extraordinary personality .

H e experiences a curious artistic idolatry for

”

the young man and as they are discussing him

,

the servant announces M r D orian Gray We .

then get a word picture of this interesting you ng

-

man we are told that there was something in his

,

face which made you trust him that it was full ,

of the candour of youth and passionate purity .

D uring the sitting that fol lows L ord Henry ,

enunciates his Views of life and his words leave ,

a deep impression on his youthful auditor .

D orian s acquaintance with L ord Henry soon

’

ripens into friendship and he co nfi de s to his ,

friend that he has fallen deeply in love with

 F i c tion 3 5
0

Sybil V ane a young actress he has accide ntally

,

discovered in an East End playhouse .

L ate upon the same night on which the con

fi de n c e was made L ord Henry fi n ds on his ,

return home a telegram from D orian Gray

,

announcing his engagement to the obj ect of his

affections W e are next introd u ced to Sybil s
.
’

shabby home in the Euston R oad to her mother ,

a faded tired looking woman with bismuth

,
-

whitened hands and to her brother a young lad, ,

with a thick set figure rough brown hair and

-
,

large hands and feet somewhat clumsy in move

ment . The faded beauty of the elder woman
and her theatrical gestures and manners are
deftly touched upon The son whom we learn .
,

is about to seek his fortune in Australia goes ,

with his sister for a walk in the park and ,

their talk is all of her love for D orian of which ,

he does not approve Sybil catches sight of her .

lover but before she can point him out to her

,

brother he is lost to sight They return home ; .

the lad s heart is fi lle d with j ealousy and a fi e rc e

’

murderous hatred of the stranger who as it ,

seemed to him had come between him and his ,

sister D ownstairs he startles his mother with a

.

sudden question — “
VV e re you married to my
father ? The woman had been dreading the
question for years but she answers it in the ,

negative and tells him that his parent was a

,

gentleman and highly connected but not free to ,

U
 F i c tion 3 7
0

S uddenly there flashed across his mind what

,

he had said in Bazil H allward s studio the day ’

the picture had been fi n ish e d H e had .

uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain

young and the portrait grow old that his own ,

beauty might be untarnished and the face on the

canvas bear the burden of his passions and his
H e is struck with remorse for his cruelty
”
sins.

to Sy bil and by the tim e L ord Henry comes to

,

see him has determined to atone for it by marry

ing her but it is too late H e learns from his
, .

friend s lips that Sybil has committed suicide in

’

the theatre shortly after he had left her .

H e spends the evening at the opera with L ord

H enry W otton and his sister L ady G wendolen
, , .

W hen next day he mentions this to Basil the

, ,

latter is h o rrifi e d but D orian is perfectly callous

,

and is inclined to be flattered by the fact that

the girl should have committed suicide for love
of him .

Basil wishes to look at the picture which he ,

intends to exhibit in Paris and before which ,

Dorian has placed a screen but the latter will ,

not let him see it and the former presently goes

,

away greatly puzzled by the refusal W hen he .

is gone Dorian sends for a framemaker and gets ,

him and his assistant to remove the draped

picture to a disused room in his house having ,

previously sent his man out with a note to L ord

Henry in order to get him out of the way Hav .
3 0 8 O sc ar W ild e
ing dismissed the framemaker and his assistant ,

he carefully locks the door of the room and retains

the key When he comes down he fin ds that
.
,

L ord Henry has sent him a paper containing an

account of the inquest on Sybil and an unhealthy ,

French book which fascinates whilst it repels

him and the influ e n c e of which he can n ot shake
,

o ff for years after .

Time passes but the hero of the story shows

,

no signs of growing older nor does he lose his

,

good looks Meanwhile the most evil rumours

.
,

as to his mode of life are in circulation We .

learn that he is in the habit of frequenting dis ,

guised and under an assumed name a little ill ,

famed tavern near the docks and we are given a,

long a n alysis of his mental and spiritual condi

tion whilst his various idiosyncrasies are care
,

fully recorded and we are insensibly reminded

,

of the surroundings invented for himself by the

hero of Huysman s A R ebours ’
.

All the while the picture remains hidden

,

away a very skeleton in the cupboard Dorian

,
.

Gray is nearly blackballed for a West End

Club Society looks askance at him and there
, ,

are all sorts of ugly rumours current as to his

doings and movements .

One night he meets Hallward who wants to ,

talk to him about his mode of life The painter .

enumerates all the scandalous stories he has

heard about him ; he ends up by expressing a
 F ic tion 3 9
0

doubt whether he really knows his friend To .

do so he says he should have to see his soul

, , .

You shall see it yourself to night D orian -

,

”
exclaims it is your handiwork and holding a
, , ,

lamp he takes him up to the locked room

, ,

and removes the drapery from the picture A n .

exclamation of hor ror breaks from the painter

as he perceives the hideous face on the canvas
grinning at him It fi lls him with loathing and
.

disgust and he has diffi c ult y in believing it to

,

be his own work D orian is seized with an un

.

controllab le feeling of hatred for his friend and , ,

seizing a knife lying on a chest stabs him in the ,

neck and kills him After the murder he locks

.

the door and goes quietly downstairs H e slips

, .

out into t he street closing the front door very

gently and rings the bell
, When his valet .

opens it he explains that he had left his latchkey

indoors and casually inquires the time which
, ,

the man informs him is ten minutes past two .

The next day D orian sends for a former friend

of his Alan C ampbell whose hobby is chemistry
, , ,

and after telling him of the murder begs him ,

by some chemical process to destroy the body .

Alan refuses to help him D orian then writes .

something upon a piece of paper and gives it to

the other to read Alan is terror struck and .
-

consents to do what is required of him though ,

reluctantly When later provided wi th the

.
,

necessary chemicals they enter the locked room , ,

 F i c t ion 3 1 1

the while he lives in deadly terror lest Sybil s ’

brother should trace him D uring a battu e a

.

man is accidentally shot by one of D orian s ’

guests It is at first thought that the Victim

.

of the accident is one of the beaters but it turns

out to be a stranger a seafaring man pre su m
,

ably D orian goes to look at the body and to

.
,

his intense relief fi nds that the dead man is his

assailant of some nights back .

Back in L ondon one night D orian Gray

determines that he will reform and curious to , ,

see whether his good resolutions have had any

e ffect on the portrai t he goes u p to look at it
, .

No it still bears the same repulsive look and in

, ,

a rage he stabs at it with the knife with which

he had murdered Basil A loud agonised cry
.

rings through the house and when the servants

,

at last make their way into the room they fi nd

hanging upon the wall a splendid portrait of
their master as they had last seen him while ,

lying on the floor with a knife through his heart

was a dead man withered wrinkled and loath , ,

some o f visage whom they could only identify

,

by the rings on his fi nge rs .

Such shorn of all its brilliant dialogue and

,

exquisite descriptive passages is the story of ,

The Portrait of D orian Gray in its bald ,

outlines As an imaginative work it must

.

rank high and in s pite of the fantastic character

,

of the plot and its inherent improbability it ,

3 1 2 O scar W ild e
exercises a weird fascination over u s as we read .

That its author ( more even in the treatment than

in the plot ) was inspired by B alzac s in c o m par ’

“
able Peau de C hagrin is beyond question .

In the one sto ry we have a man purchasing a

piece a shagreen skin inscribed with S anskrit
characters which as each of its possessor s desires
,
’

are grat ifi e d by its shrinkage marks a dim in u

,

tion in the span of his life In the other whilst

.
,

the original man remains outwardly unchanged ,

his portrait ages with the years and reveals in its

features all the passions and sins that gradually
transform his nature In both cases the story
.

ends in tragedy .

The colouring of the tale is one of its most

remarkable features In passages of rare beauty
.

O scar Wilde gives u s descriptions of j ewels and

perfumes rare tapestries and quaint musical in
,

st ru m e nt s The catalogue of the j e wels as set

.

out by him deserves to be quoted for the

marvellous knowledge of precious stones it
reveals as well as for the e x quisite description
of them .

H e would often spend a whole day settling

and resettling in the cases the various stones
that he had collected such as the olive green
,
-

chrysoberyl that turns red by lamplight the ,

cymophane with its wirelike line of silver the ,

pistachio coloured pe rdo t rose pink and wine

-
,
-

yellow topazes carbuncles of fiery scarlet with

,
 F ic tion 3 3 1

tremulous four rayed stars fl am e red cinnamon -

,
-

stones orange and Violet spinels and amethysts

, ,

with the alternate layers of ruby and sapphire .

H e loved the red gold of the sunstone and the -

,

moonstone s pearly whiteness and the broken

’

rainbow of the milky opal H e procured from .

Amsterdam three emeralds of extraordinary size

and richness of colour and had a turquoise ate ,

la vieille ro che that was the envy of all con

n o isse u rs .

It may here be pointed out though the fact is ,

not generally known that Wilde s knowledge of ,

’

tapestry which at first sight seems so profound , , ,

was obtained from L e fe b u re s History of ’

”
Embroidery and L ace a book which he had ,

“
reviewed in an article having for title A
”
Fascinating Book It is interesting to com .

pare an extract from that article with a passage

from the review under discussion
W h e re was th e gre a t cro W h e re t i s t h e gre a c ro

l u d b
c us- c o o re whi h ro e, on c l u d b th t w
c u s- c o o re ro e a as

th e
g d f
o u ghts
ga in
o t t h a s e w ro u
ght f At h n d or e a, an on

g i nt
a ths,t h d b an w k ad ee or e whi h t h g d f ght g in t
c e o s ou a a s

for Ath n ? W h e a th e re e th e
gi nt W h i
a t h s ? e re s e

hu g v l ium that N h d
e e ar e ro a hu g v l ium th t N
e e ar a e ro

t th d
s re c e th C l
acro ss e o os t th d
s re c th eC l acro ss e o os

se um t R m a whi h w
o e, on c e re se um t R m awhi h w o e, on c as

re p nt d th t y k y
re se e e s arr s ,
re p nt d th ta y k y
re se e e s rr s ,

an d Ap ll d ivin g
o o ha i t r a c r o an d A p ll d i in g h i t
o o r v a c ar o

d wn by whit
ra gilt in d e -re e d wn by t d
ra H w s ee s ? o one

t d ? H l ng d t
s ee s e o e o se e w uld lik t
o th uiu e o se e e c r o s

th e u i u t bl n pk in
c ro s a e - a s t b l n p k in w u ght f
a e - a s ro or

w ro u
ght f El g b lu
or a a a s, on H li g b l
e o whi h w
a a u s, o n c e re
 F i c tion 3 5 I

cu t in w
r a f d m a k with
s e re o t in w f d ma k a with s ,
a s e re o a s ,
‘

l fy w th
ea d g l nd
re a l fy w ths an d g l nd ar a s, ea re a s an ar a s

fig d up n
ure g l d d i l
o fi g d up
a n g l d o d i ! an s u re o a o an S

ve r
g n d d f
ro u in g d al n g
, gan und d f in r
g d l n g e o ve r ro ,
an r e a o

th dg
e with b i d i f th dg with b id i f
e es ro er e s o e e es ro er es o

p l e ar s, and it t d in m p l d it t d in
s oo m a ro o e ar s,
’
an s oo a ro o

hun g with w f t h q n hun g with w f t h Qu n

ro s o e ue e
’
s ro so e ee
’

d vi in t bl k v l t d i
e ce s cu in t bl k l t ac e ve e v ce s cu ac v e ve

u p n l th f il
o c o L ui l th f ilv L ui XI V
o s ve r . o s on c o o s er . o s .

XI V h d g l d m b i d
. a d h d g ld m b i d
o -
e d y ro e re a o -
e ro e re c ar

y ti d fift
c ar a f t hi gh tid fift f t hi gh in h i
es een ee a es een ee s

in h i p t m nt Th t t
s a ar p tm nt Th t t b d
e . e s a e a ar e s . e s a e e

b d e f S bi ki o Kin g f f S bi k i Kin g f P l n d
o es ,
o o o es ,
o o a ,

P l n d w m d f S m y n w m d f Smy n g ld
o a ,
as a e o r a as a e o r a o

g lod b d m b id
ro c a d in b ed mb
e id d in t
ro e re ro c a e e ro e re ur

tu q i with v
r u o se s f m q i dp l with e rs e s ro u o se s an e ar s, v e rse s

th K e n I t upp t w
o ra . f m th K n ; it upp t
ss or s e re ro e o ra s s or s

of il s
gilt b
ve r t f ll y w f ilv g
,
ilt b utif llye au l u e re o s e r- ,
ea u

ch d ase d p fu ly
,
an t h d d p f ly t with ro se se c ase an ro u se se

with n m ll d d j w ll d n m ll d d j w ll d m
e a e e an e e e e a e e an e e e e

m d lli n
e a It h d b n d lli n H h d t k n it
o s . a ee a o s . e a a e

t k n f m t h Tu k i h m p f m t h T k i h mp b
a e ro e r s ca ro e ur s ca e

b f Vi nn
e o re d th e t n f V i nn a, an d th tn e s a o re e a, an e s a

d d f M h mm d h d t d
ar o o d d f M h m t h d t d
a e a s oo ar o a o e a s oo
” ”
un de r it un de r it

Wilde who at times was e x t re m e ly in do le nt

, ‘
,

had an amiable weakness for using the material

at hand and throughout his writings we h n d
,

whole lines of verse and prose sentences reap

pearing in work produced at another period It .

is the same with the epigrams in Dorian Gray ,

most of which were subsequently transferred ,

bodily to his plays During his travels in Italy

,
.
,

as I have already pointed out he had been ,

enormously impressed by the stately ceremonials

of the C atholic Church and in this book he uses ,
3 1 6 O sca r W ild e
his opportunity of introducing the ornate and
sumptuous vestments worn at her services .

D orian Gray he tells u s had a special passion

, ,

also for ecclesiastical vestm ents as indeed he ,

had for everything connected with the service

of the C hurch In the long cedar chests that
.

lined the west gallery of his house he had stored

away many rare and beautiful specimens of what
is really the raiment of the Bride of C hrist who
must wear purples and j ewels and fi n e linen
that she may hide the pallid macerated body
that is worn by the su ffering that she seeks for ,

—
and wounded by self in flict e d pain H e had a .

gorgeous cope of crimson silk and gold thread -

damask figure d with a repeating pattern of

,

golden pomegranates set in six petalled formal -

blossoms beyond which on either side was the

,

pineapple d evice wrought in seed pearls The -

.

orphreys were divided into panels representing

s cenes from the life of the V irgin and the coro ,

nation of the V irgin was figure d in coloured

silks upon the hood This was Italian work .

of the fift e e nt h cent ury Another cope was of

.

green velvet embroidered with heart shaped

,
-

groups of acanthus leaves from which spread

-
,

long stemmed white blossoms the details of

-
,

which were picked out with silver thread and

’
coloured crystals The morse bore a seraph s
.

head in gold thread raised work The orphreys

-
.

were woven in a diaper of red and gold silk and ,

 F i c tion 3 1
7
were starred with medallions of many s aints and
martyrs among whom was S t S ebastian H e
, .

had chasubles also of amber coloured silk

, , ,

and blue silk and gold brocades and yellow ,

silk damask and cloth of gold fi gure d with ,

representation of the Passion and Cruci

fi x io n of C hrist and embroidered with lions
,

and peacocks and other emblems ; dalmatics

of white satin and pink silk damask decor ,

ated with tulips and dolphins and fi ei i rs de

Zy s ; altar frontals of crimson velvet and blue
linen ; and many corporals chalice veils and , ,

”
sudaria.

It may also be noted here that a couple of

chapters those dealing with Sybil s home and
,
’

the death of her brother were not written till

,

t h e story appeared in book form and a certain ,

extra number of words were required to make

the volume of the requisite bulk ; so must
writers s ubmit to the inexorable demands of
publishers who measure work not by its merit
but by a footrule .

The dialogue throughout the tale sparkles

with brilliant epigrams and this is all the more
,

notable when we remember that the story was

written in a hurry when the author was hard
,

pressed for money is more or les s a piece of

,

hack work and that whole pages were written

,

in at the behest of the publisher who like a , ,

’
customer at the baker s demanding the make
 F i c t ion 3 9 1

dialogue and as the author himself lays down

, , ,

Enough is as good as a meal A nd there by .

,

the way we have an illustration of how cleverly

,

Wilde could transform the commonest saws by

the alteration or the transposition of a word ,

even s ometimes by th e inversion of a sentence

into what at the fi rst flush appeared to be highly
, ,

original and brilliant sayings B y the su b st itu .

“ “ ”
tion of the word meal for feast we fail to
recognise the old homely saying and are ready , ,

until we consider it more closely to receive it as ,

a new and witty idea neatly embodied It is a .

tru e de me tier but one that requires a clever

’

workman to use properly as anyone can make ,

sure of by glancing through the bungling work

of the maj ority of his imitators .

“
I n Dorian Gray Wilde gives free play to
,

his ever present longing to utter the dem ier

-

cri to avoid all that was vieu x j ez i

, and to fi ll ,

with horror and amazement the souls of the

stodgy bou rge o isie That he succeeded in doing
.

so merely proves that the bou rgeo isie are stodgy ,

not that the author has erred from the canons of

art and good taste .

His short stories are all written in a lighter

vein — we peru se them as we eat a plover s egg ’

and with the same relish and appreciation They .

are things of gossamer but gossamer will oft sur

,

vive more solid material and has the supreme ,

quality of delicacy .
3 2 0 O sca r W ild e
L ord Arthur S av ile s C rime deals with that
’

nobleman s anxiety to commit the murder a

’

c h e iro m an t ist has predicted he will perpetrate ,

and to get the matter over before he marries the

girl to whom he is engaged His two su ccessive .

failures and his fin al drowning of the hand read -

ing fortune teller is conceived in the best spirit

-

of comedy and provokes a gentle continuous

,

ripple of amusement as we read it The sa m e .

”
may be s aid of The Sphinx without a S ecret ,

“ “ ”
and The C anterville Ghost whereas the Model ,

M illionaire is simply a pretty story wittily told .

The whole plot is summed up in its concluding

lines Millionaire models are rare enough
but model millionaires are rarer still .

B ut incomparably W ilde s best work in fi ctio n

, ,
’

is the Portrait of M r W H as the B lackwood . .

article is headed After reading it our regret

.

becomes all the more poignant that the com

le t e M S of the book should have so u n acc o u nt
p .

ably disappeared C orrectly speaking the story

.
,

is hardly a work of fi ct io n o r at anyrate the , , ,

fi ct io n is so slight as to be hardly deserving of

criticism and is a mere medium for the e xpo si
,

t ion of a theory The teller of the story is in a

.

friend s rooms and the talk drifts on to literary

’

forgeries The friend ( Erskine ) shows him a

.

portrait panel of a young man in late sixteenth

-

century costume and proceeds to tell him his

,

story A young friend of his had discovered

.
 F i c tion 3 2 1

what he considered a clue to the identity of the

M r W H of Shakespeare s S onnets the only
’
. .
,

hitch being the diffi c ulty of proving t hat the

young actor to whom he asserted his poems were
written ever existed H e shortly afterwards
, .

produced a panel portrait of the young man -

which he had as he alleged dis covered clamped

, ,

to the inside of an old chest picked up by him

at a VV arwick sh ire farmhouse This fi n al proof .

quite convinced Erskine of the genuineness of

the discovery and it was not till an accidental
,

Visit to a friend s studio that the fact of the panel

’

being a forgery was revealed to him H e taxes .

the discoverer of the clue with it and the latter

commits suicide The writer of the story is so
.

impressed with the various proofs that Erskine

’
has laid before him that in spite of that latter s ,

utter scepticism as to the existence of any such

person as the dead man evolved from the S onnets
themselves he completes the researches on his
,

own account But the moment he has sent o ff

.

a detailed account of the result of his investiga

tions to Erskine he himself is fi lle d with an utter
,

disbelief in the accuracy of the conclusions de

rived from them Erskine on the other hand .
, ,

is once more converted by his letter to his dead

friend s theory
’
.

Two years later the writer receives a letter

from Erskine written from C annes stating that ,

like the discoverer of the clue he has committed ,

 F i c tion 3 2 3
being reversed ) who is known to have been an
,

early patron of the poet others without much

,

apparent reason have assumed that the W H . .

in question was none other than William H erbert ,

E arl of Pembroke The most probable theory

.

is undoubtedly that of M r Henry L e e that the ,

dedication is entirely Thorpe s own that it has ’

nothing whatever to do with Shakespeare or the

inspirer of the poet and that it was meant for
,

William Hall a sort of literary intermediary

, .

In co n fi rm at io n of this he adduces the undoubted

fact that Thorpe had at anyrat e once previously
, ,

dedicated a work to its begotten .

One point is established almost beyond dispute

— Viz that the fi rst 1 2 6 sonnets are addressed to
.

a young man and the remainder refer to a dark

woman who after having bewitched the author
, ,

casts her spell over his young friend and estranges

the two .

A counter t heory is that S hakespeare s selec

-
’

tion of the sonnet that puling petrifying

, , ,

stupidly platonic composition as Byron calls it , ,

as a medium for his mus e is that he was e x pe ri

,

m e nt in g in the style of writing which had beco m e

the fashion in England between the years 1 5 9 1
and 1 5 9 7 .

Wilde s history is a totally new one an d

’

deserves close examination Given that it could .

be prove d that the young actor to whom he

maintains the S onnets were addressed ever had
3 2 4 O scar W ild e
a real existence and the matter would be as good
,

as proved but that is t h e weak point in his armour

, .

Mayhap some enthusiast may by digging amongst ,

old deeds and papers light upon some reference ,

to him but until then his hypothesis can be only

,

regarded as an ingenious though highly interest ,

ing speculation Parenthetically it may be men

.

t io n e d although the fact is only known to very

,

few that an artist friend of O scar Wilde whose

, ,

work is the admiration of all connoisseurs had , ,

under his direction painted e x actly such a panel

,

portrait as described employing all the arts of ,

the forger of antiquities in its production and ,

tha t a young poet whose recently published

volume of verse had caused considerable sensa
tion in literary circles had sat for the likeness .

The points Wilde advances in c o nfirm atio n of

his theory are as follows

1 . That the young man to whom S h ak e pe are

ad dresses sonnets must have been someone who
was really a Vital factor in the development of
his dramatic art and that this could not be said
,

of either L ord Pembroke or L ord S outham pton .

2 That the S onnets as we learn from Meres

. , ,

were written before 1 5 9 8 and that his frie ndship

with W H had already lasted three years when
. .

S onnet C I V was written which would fi x the

.
,

date of its commencement as 1 5 9 4 or at latest ,

1 5 9 5 that L ord Pembroke was born in 1 5 8 0 and

,
 F ic tion 3 2 5
did not come to L ondon till he was eighteen
( i
. e .1 5 9 8 ) so that Shakespeare could not have
met him till after the sonnet had been written
and that Pembroke s father did not die till ’

1 6 01 whereas W H s father was dead in 1 5 9 8

’

, . .
,

as is proved by the lin e

Y o u h ad a f th
a e r, le t y u
o r so n sa
y so .

That L ord S outhampton had early in life

3 .

become the lover of Elizabeth V ernon so required ,

no urging to enter the state of matrimony tha t ,

he was not dowered with good looks and that ,

he did not remember his mother as W H did . . .

( Thou art thy mother s glass and she in thee ’

calls back the lovely April of her prime ) and ,

moreover that his C hristian name being Henry

he could not be the Will to whom the punning
sonnets ( C X X X V and C X L I I I )are addressed
. . .

4 That W
. H is none other than the boy
. .

actor for whom Shakespeare created the parts of

V iola Imogen J uliet R osalind Portia D esde
, , , , ,

mona and Cleopatra .

5 That the boy s name was H u ghes

’
. .

These points he proves from the S onne t s them

selves As regards No 1 he writes : to look
. .

upon him as simply the obj ect of certain love

poems is to miss the whole meaning of the
poems ; for the art of which Shakespeare talks
in the S onnets is no t the art of the S onnets
themselves which indeed were to him but sl ight
,
 F i c t ion 3 2 7
Hughes abandoned Shakespeare s company to ’

enter the service of C hapman or more probably ,

of Marlowe H e proves this from the lines

.

But wh n y u unt n an fill d up h i lin

e o r co e ce e s e

Th n l k I m att th t nf bl d min
e ac er a e ee e e
”

as also
W hil st ll u p n thy ai d
I l n
a o e di d ca o

M y v l n h d ll thy g ntl g
e rse a o e a a e e rac e ,

But w m y g i nu m b
no d
rac o u sy d e rs are e ca e ,

A nd my i k nu d giv n th pl
s c rse oes e a o er ac e

and further by
Ev y li n p h g t my
er a e en as o use

An d un d th th i p y di p
er ee e r oes s e rse ,

and draws attention to the obvious play upon

words ( use Hughes ) .

Such in brief are the salient points of his

argument the limitations of space precluding
,

me from amplifying the subj ect but I stro ngly ,

advise all those interested in the subj ect to read

the whole article for themselves .

It is undoubtedly one of the cleverest things

Wil de ever did and as a contribution to contro
,

v e rsial English literature no student of letters

can a fford to overlook it S ome day pe rh ap .

the manuscript of the book will be discovered

—in the library of a Transatlantic millionaire
—
maybe and the author s more matured and ’

expansive investigations be given to the world .

May that day come soo n

 PA R T V I I

THE PH I L O S O PHY OF BEAUTY

 T HE PH I L O S OP HY OF BEAUTY

TH E greatest claim that Wilde made for himself

was that he was a high priest of aesthe t ics that ,

he had a new message concerning the relations

of beauty and the worship of beauty to life and
art to life and t o morals to give t o the world
, .

This claim was one in which to the last he pathetic

ally believed H e was absolutely certain in his
.

own mind that this was his vocation H e elabor.

ated a sort of philosophy of beauty which not o nly

pleased and sat isfi e d himself but found very many
,

adherents and became the dogma of a school

, .

E ven in This last work D e Profundis

, ,

written in the middle of his degradation and

misery he still believes that it is by art that
,

he will be able to regenerate his spirit H e said .

that he would do such work in the future would ,

build beautiful things out of his su fferings that ,

he m ight cry in triumph “

Yes ! This is j ust
where the artistic life leads a man .

We all know where the artistic life did lead

Oscar Wilde upon his release from prison It .

led him to an obscure quarter of Paris where he

dragged out the shor t remainder of an unhappy
life having written nothing save The Ballad of
,

R eading Gaol and becoming more and more

,

lost to finer aspirations .

331
33 2 O sc ar W ild e
Yet nevertheless this ae sthetic philosophy of
, ,

W ilde s forms one of the most important parts

’

of his writings and of his attitude towards life

, .

It must therefore be carefully considered in

, ,

any study of the man and his work .

First of all let u s inquire what are ae sthetics ?

, ,

D o not let anyone who has not given his atten

“
tion to the subj ect imagine that the aesth et i
c ism, which became known as the hallmark of
a band of people led by Oscar Wilde who com
mitt e d many whimsical extravagances and who ,

were caricatured in M r Gilbert s Patience has ’

,
”

any relation whatever to the science of ae sthetics .

Even to O scar Wilde ae stheticism as it has been ,

popularly called was only the beginning of an

,

ae sthetic philosophy which he summed u

p fi n ally
“ ”
much later in Intentions the Poems in ,

Prose and The S oul of M an under S ocialism

, .

B y ae sthetics is meant a theory of the beautiful

as exhibited in works of art That is to say .
,

ae sthetics considered on its obj ective side has to

investigate fi rst a function of art in general as

, ,

expressing the beautiful and then the nature of ,

the beauty thus expressed .

S econdly the special functions of the several

,

arts are investigated by ae sthetics and the special

aspects of the beautiful with which they are
severally concerned I t therefore follows that
.
, ,

ae sthetics has to discuss such topics as the rela

tion of art to nature and life the distinction of ,

 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e au t y 333
art from nature the relation of natural to artistic
,

beauty the conditions and nature of beauty in

,

a work of art and especially the distinction of

,

beauty from truth from utility and from moral

, ,

goodness .

ZEst h e t ic s is therefore not art criticism

, Art , .

criticism deals with this or that particular work

or type of art while the aesthetic theory seeks to
,

formulate the mere abstract and fundamental

conceptions distinctions and principles which
, ,

underlie artistic criticism and alone make it ,

possible Art crit icism is the link bet ween

.

ae sthetic science and the ordinary intelligent

appreciation of a work of art by an ordinary
intelligence Much more may be sai d in de
.

fi n ing the functio n s of aesthetics but this is ,

su ffi c ie n t before we begin to examine Wilde s

’

own ae sthetic the o ries .

His ideas were promulgat ed in the three

works mentioned ab o ve and also given to the ,

world in lectures which he delivered at various

times .

It is true as M r Arthur Symons very clearly

,

pointed out some years ago that Oscar Wilde ,

wrote much that was true new and valuable , ,

about art and the artist But in everything that .

he wrote he wrote from the outside H e said .

nothin g which had not been said before him or ,

which was not the mere wilful contrary of what

had been said before him Indeed it is not too .
,
 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 335
For art to quote a noble passage of M r S win
,

burne s is very life itself and knows nothing

’

of death A nd so it comes that he who seems

.

to stand most remote from his age is he who

mirrors it best because he has stripped life of
,

that mist of familiarity which as Shelley used

, ,

to say makes life obs cure to u s

, .

Whatever spiritual message an artist brings

to his age it is for u s to do naught but accept his
,

teaching You have most of you seen probably

.

that great mas t erpiece o f R ubens which hangs

in the gallery of Brussels that swift and wonder
,

ful pageant of horse and rider arrested in its ,

most exquisite and fi e ry moment when the ,

winds are caught in crimson banner and the air

is lit by the gleam of armour and the flash of
plume Well that is j oy in art though that
.
, ,

golden hillside be trodden by the wounded feet

of Christ ; and it is for the death of the S on of
Man that that gorgeous cavalcade is passing .

In the prim ary aspect a painting has no more

spiritual message than an exquisite fragment of
V enetian glass The channels by which all
.

noble and imaginative work in painting should

touch the soul are not those of the truths of
lives This should be done by a certain in
.

v e n t iv e and creative handling entirely inde

pendent of anything de finite ly poetical in the
subj ect something entirely satisfying in itself
, ,

which is as the Greeks would say in itself an

, ,
33 6 O scar W ild e
end S o the j oy of poetry comes never from
.

the subj ect but from an inventive handling of

,

”
rhythmical language .

A nd further he said that in nations as in

individuals if the passion for creation be not
,

accompanied by the critical the ae sthetic fac u lty

,

also it will be sure to waste its strength It is

, .

not an increased moral sense or moral super

vision that your literature needs Indeed one .

should never talk of a moral or immoral poem .

Poems are either well written or badly written ;

that is all Any element of morals or implied
.

reference to a standard of good and evil in art is

often a sign of a certain incompleteness of Vision .

”
All good work aims at a purely artistic e ffect .

“ ”
In Intentions he enunciated serious pro
ble m s which seemed constantly to contradict
themselves and he causes ourselves to ask ques
,

tions which only bewilder and astonish To sum .

up all the aesthetic teaching of the author it

amounts simply and solely to the aphorism that
there must be a permanent divorce between art
and morals All art he says is i mm oral
.
,
”
, .

S ome people have taken the view that Oscar

Wilde in his philosophy of beauty was never
quite sincere H e did not write for philistines
.

with his heart in his mouth but merely with his ,

tongue in his check I remember M r R ichard

.

“
L e G allie nn e once said that in Intentions
Wilde s worship of beauty which had made a
’

,
 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 337
latter day myt h of him before his time was over
-
,

laid by his gift of comic perception and rightly , ,

V I CW Cd all his flute tone periods were written in

,
-

the service of the comic muse When he was .

not of malice aforethought humorous in those

parts of the work where he seems to be arguing
with a serious face enough it is implied that he
,

did so simply that he might smile behind his

mask at the astonishment of a public he had
from the fi rst so delighted in shocking —that
“
he had a passion for being called dangerous ,

j ust as one type of man likes to be called fast

and a rake .

This is of course one point of View but it is

, , ,

not one with which I am in agreement Wilde .

laid such enormous stress upon the sensuous side

of art and never realised that this is b ut an ex
,

t e rio r a spect which is impossible and could not

exist without a spiritual interior an informing ,

soul.

“
With all his brilliancy the author of I nt e n
”
tions only saw a m ere fragment of his subj ect .

I t may be that he wilfully sh ut his eyes to the

truth It is more likely that he was incapable
.

of realising the truth as a whole and that what ,

he wrote he wrote with absolute sincerity .

It has been said that the artist sees farther

than morality This is a dangerous doctrine for
.

the artist himself to believe but it has some ,

truth in it In O scar Wilde s case in pursuing

.
’

,
 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 3 39
“
which I wish t o leave with you that all you ,

can rightly do or honourably become depends

, ,

on the government of these two instincts of order

and kindness by this great imaginative faculty
, ,

which give you inheritance of the past grasp of ,

the present authority over the future Map out

, .

the spaces of your possible lives by its help ;

measure the range of their possible agency I O n
the walls and towers of this your fair city there ,

is not an ornamen t of which the first origin may

not be traced back to the tho ughts of men who
died two thousand years ago Whom will you .

be governing by your thoughts two thousand ,

years hence ? Think of it and you will fin d that

,

so far from art being immoral little else except ,

art is moral ; that life without industry is guilt ,

and industry without art is brutality and for the

words good and wicked used of men you
‘ ’
‘
,
’

may almost substitute the words makers and ‘

’

’
destroyers. Far the greater part of the seeming
prosperity of the world is so far as our present ,

knowledge e x tends vain : wholly useless for any

,

kind of good but having assigned to it a certain

,

inevitable sequence of destruction and of sorrow .

Its stress is only the stress of wandering storm ;

its beauty the hectic of plague : and what is
called the history of mankind is too often the
record of the whirlwind and the map of the
,

sprea ding of the leprosy But underneath all.

that or in narrow spaces of dominion in the

,
34 0 O scar W il de
midst of it
the work of every man qu i n on
, ,

accep i t in vai i itatem an iman su am endures and ,

prospers ; a small remnant or green bud of it

prevailing at last over evil A nd though faint .

with sickness and encumbered in ruin the true

, ,

workers redeem inch by inch the wilderness into

garden ground by the help of their j oined hands
the order of all things is surely sustained and
vitally expanded and although with strange
,

vacillation in the eyes of the watcher the

, ,

“
morning cometh and also the night there is no
, ,

hour of human existence that does n o t draw on

t owards the perfect d ay .

For our own part let u s examine a li t tle into

the relation between art and morality for our
selves .

When we hear it asserted that morality has

nothing to do with art and that moral considera
tions are quite beside the mark in ae sthetic
criticism and j udgment such a statement is ,

simply equivalent to saying that actual life has

nothing to do with art The main demand that
,

we can make from art of all kinds is the demand

of truth Truth is beauty and beauty is truth
.
,
.

B y truth in this connect ion we mean that high er

an d more ideal truth which is inherent in the

realities of things and contained by them but ,

which is brought out explained made credible

, , ,

and visible by the artist in this or that sphere of

art and through the process of his art purifi e d
,
 T h e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 34 1

from the accidental obscurities which cloud it

and hide it in the realm of actual life If we are .

to demand truth from the artist and let u s always ,

remember as Keats realised so strongly that in

, ,

demanding truth we demand beauty also we ,

must insist that the artist must give u s nothing

in which a false psychology obtains must for , ,

example paint no passions that do not occur

,

in actual life It is therefore equally necessary

.
, , ,

on a logical conclusion that when the subj ect of

,

a work of art requires it the moral should be

,

—
represented as it really is that is according to ,

—
its truth and that the moral law should not
be misrepresented If we require of the artist
.

that he should give a vivid representation of

the illusions of human life of the struggles and
,

rivalries of men for obj ects and ends of imaginary

value we must equally demand of the artist that
,

he should know and be capable of describing that

which alone has true and absolute value in human
life S urely it is a truism that every drama from
.

beginning to end contains a moral It is a lie .

that art is immoral or can by its very nature ever

be so To say so to pretend that art has a
.
,

separate existence is to say something which

,

even the most brilliant paradox cannot prove

and which immediately suggests to the mind
of the thinking man an apologia or reason for
licence of personal conduct As a great German
.

writer on wst h e t ics and the relation to the ethics

 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 34 3
he goes further in his paradoxical View and ,

shows that the artist m ust hold no brief for

either good or evil and that the excellence of a
,

work of art depends entirely upon the skill of

presentation .

The German student on the contrary writes

, ,

There are dramas in which the moral ele

ment is not brought into special prominence but ,

j ust hovers above the surface and which yet have ,

their poetic value What must however be

.
, ,

absolutely insisted on is that the artistic treat

,

ment should never insult morality We do not .

mean that art must not represent the immoral as

well as the moral for this is on the contrary
, , ,

indispensable if art is truly to re fl e ct life as it is

, ,

But immorality must not infect and be inherent

in that view of life and those opinions which the
poet desires by his work to promulgate for then
he would inj ure morality and violate that moral
,

ideal to which all human life and therefore art ,

itself must be subordinated Plays and novels

, ,

which depict virtue as tha t mere conventionality

and Philistinism which is but an obj ect of
ridicule or which hold up to our admiration false
,
'

and antinomian ideals of Virtue representing e g , . .

,

the sentimentality of a so called good heart as -

su ffi c ie n t to j ustify the most scandalous moral

delinquencies or free genius as privileged to

‘
’

sin which paint Vice in attractive and seductive

,

colours portraying adultery and other t ran sgre s

,
34 4 O scar W ild e
sions as very pardonable and under certain , ,

circumstances amiable weaknesses and which

, ,

by means of such delineations bestow absolution

on the public for sins daily occurring in actual
—
life such plays and novels are unworthy of art ,

and are as poison to the whole community .

Equally with all untruth must all impurity

be excluded from art Purity and chastity are
.

requirements resulting from the very nature of

art But it is j ust because art is so closely
.

connected with sensuousness that there is such ,

obvious temptation to present the sensuous in

false independence to call forth the mere grati
,

fi cat io n of the senses The sensuous must how

.
,

ever be always subordinated to the intellectual

, ,

for this is involved in the demand for ideality ,

in other words for that impress of perfection

,

given by the idea and the mind in every artistic

representation A nd even if ae sthetic ideality is
.

present in a work of art it must be subordinated

,

to ethic ideality to the moral purity in the

,

artist s mind a purity di ff used throughout the

’

whole .

Enough has been said and quoted to prove to

all those who believe that art while it is the chief ,

regenerative force in life cannot possibly be dis ,

so c iat e d from morals that Wilde s View of art in

’

its relation to morals is entirely unsound and

—
dangerous to the half educated and those who
do not know how the greatest brains of the world
 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 34 5
have regarded this question It is not necessary
.

to continue or to pile proof upon proof easy ,

though this would be .

From the people who have a little culture ,

imagine they have much more and are dazzled ,

by the splendour and beauty of Wilde s e x e cu ’

tion it will be idle to expect an assent Those

, .

who believe in art for art s sake as an infallible

’

doctrine may be divided into three classes

, .

First of all there are the very young whose ,

experience of life has not taught them the truth .

They have not seen or known life as a whole ,

and therefore no sound ethical View can possibly

, ,

disabuse them of the heresy .

There are those again older and more mature

, ,

who have not made experience of life in its

harsher and sadder aspects su ffi cie nt to wean
them from Wilde s theory in which they are
’

interested from a purely academic point of View .

A nd there is another class who are convinced

secretly in their own hearts that art for art s ’

sake is an untenable doctri n e but know that if ,

they accepted it they would have to give up

much which they are unable to do without and
which makes life pleasant and dulls the con
science .

It is more satisfactory to turn to the considera

tion of Intentions and pay an enthusiastic
,

and reverential meed of praise to this perfection

of art Marred here and there perhaps by over
.
 Th e P hilo so p h y o f B e a u ty 34 7
forehead to the ground for we know that we ,

have sinned When we have done penan ce and

. ,

are purifi e d and have drunk of the fountain of

,

L ethe and bathed in the fountain of E u n o e the ,

mistress of our soul raises u s to the Paradise of

Heaven Out of that eternal pearl the moon
.
, ,

the face of Piccarda D onati leans to u s Her .

beauty troubles u s for a moment and when like , ,

a thing that falls through water she passes away , ,

”
we gaze after her with wistful eyes .

D o not these words strike almost the highest ,

purest and most beautiful note that any writer

,

of prose has struck throughout the centuries .

In English at least I know of nothing more

, ,

rapt and ecstatic It is above criticism and the

.

man who wrote it must for ever wear in our

minds one of the supreme laurels that artistic
achievement can bestow .

One more paragraph will show the author of

“
Intentions in a di fferent mood but yet one ,

in which the supreme sense of beauty and of

form throbs out upon the page and fi lls our
pulses with that divine and awestruck excite
ment that great art can give .

wake from his forgotten tomb the sweet

Syrian Meleager and bid the lover of H e lio do re
, ,

make you music for he too has fl o we rs in his

,

song red pomegranate blossoms and irises that

,
-
,

smell of myrrh ringed daffodils and dark blue

,

hyacinths and marj oram and crinkled o x eyes

,
-
.
34 8 O sc a r W ild e
D ear to him was the perfume of the b e anfi e ld
at evening and dear to him the odorous eared
,

spikenard that grew on the Syrian hills and the ,

fresh green thyme the win e cu p s charm The

,
’
.

feet of his love as she walked in the garden were

like lilies set upon lilies S ofter than sleep laden
.
-

poppy petals were her lips softer than violets ,

and as s cented The flame light crocus sprang

.
-

from the grass to look at her For her the slim .

narcissus stored the cool rain ; and for her the

anemones forgot the Sicilian winds that wooed
them . A nd neither crocus nor anemone nor , ,

narcissus was as fair as she was .

If the song of Meleager was sweet and if the

suns of summer greet the mountain grave of
B elik e and the shepherds still repeat their
,

legends where breaks the blue Sicilian sea by

which Theocritus tuned his lyre ; if the voice of
Dante yet rings and sounds in the world weary -

ears of mortals of to day ; if As You L ike It -

has still its appeal to our modern cars as from a

woodland full of flutes then indeed this pros e , , ,

of O scar W ilde s so beautiful and so august

’

, ,

will remain with u s always as an imperishable

treasure of literature and as a lyric in our
hearts .

Poems in Prose that Oscar W ilde wrote

were published first in The F ortn ightly R eview ,

during J uly 1 8 9 4 when M r Frank Harris was

, ,

the editor We must remember th e date because

.
 Th e P hilo so p h y o f B e au ty 34 9
it was only a few months before the absolute
downfall of the author .

’
In criticising this work of Wilde s we can ,

not help the re fl e c tio n t ha t it was written at a

time when enormous sudden and overwhelm , ,

ing success had thrown him entirely from his

mental balance and had fi lle d him with an even
,

greater egoism than he ordinarily had at the time ,

these fables or allegories let u s call them were

, , ,

produced O scar Wilde was at the very height

,

of his success and of his alm o st in san e irre spo n si

,

b ilit y also .

That they are beautiful it would be idle t o

deny Still we have the sure and dexterous pen
.

employed upon them There is no faltering in .

phrase no hesitation of artistry It is said by

, .

many people who heard the poet recite these

stories upon social occasions tell them to please , ,

amuse or bewilder one of those gatherings in

,

which he was the centre in a constellation that , ,

spoken they were far more beautiful than when

,

at length he wrote them down and published

them in the review I can well believe it O n . .

the two occasions when I myself heard Oscar

Wilde talki ng I realised how unprecedented his
,

talent for conversation was and wished that I ,

also could hear him at times when he attempted

his highest flights Yet even as pieces of prose
.
, ,

the title the author chose for them is perfectly

“
st ifi e d
j u They
. are indeed poems in prose
 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e a u ty 35 1

Our L ord is meant .

The allegory goes on to say that when C hrist

came near to the city H e heard music and the
the sounds of happiness and j oy H e knocked .

at th e gate and certain of the gatekeepers

opened to Him .

O ur L ord passes through the beautiful halls

of a palace and sees upon a couch of sea purple
a man bearing all the signs of an ancient Greek
st u e fi e d by pleasure and b wine The Pro
p y .

t ago n ist asks the man H e sees Why do you

live like this
Then Wilde s prose goes on to tell how the
’

young man turns and recognises his interlocutor

and answers that he was a leper once that C hrist ,

had healed him How else should he live

.

Our L ord leaves the palace and walks through

the city and he sees an other young man pursuing
,

a harlot while his eyes are bright with lust

, .

H e speaks to the young man and asks him the

reason of his way of life and the young man ,

turns and tells the S aviour of Mankind that he

was once blind and that H e had given him sight ,

and therefore at what else could he look

, ,

The allegory goes o n but it is not necessary

,

to continue an account of it All it is necessary.

and right to say is that the allegory is blas

,

p h e m o u s and horri ble —horrible with the insane

pride of one who has not realised his imminent
fall who has realised the horror of his mental
,
35 2 O scar W ild e
attitude no less than the life he was proved to
have been leading at the time .

I have purposely refrained from quotation here .

But let it again be said that the artistic present

ment of these parables is without flaw .

I do not think it would be a kindness to the

memory of Oscar Wilde nor be doing a service ,

to anyone at all to continue this ethical criticism

,

“ ”
of the Poems in Prose L e t me say only .

that Wilde in another story takes a sinner

, ,

to the J udgment S eat and introduces God the

Father into a d ialogue in which the sinner
silences the Almighty by his repartee All .

these Poems in Prose are written beautifully ,

as I have said but also with an extraordinarily

,

adroit use of actual phrases from the New Testa

ment . I will permit myself one quotation
before I conclude which is surely saddening in
,

its sign ifi can ce in the view of after events .

A nd God said to the Man : Thy life hath

“

been Evil and the Beauty I have shown thou

,

hast sought for and the Good I have hidden

,

”
thou did st pass by
’
.

’
It remains to say something about Wilde s
”
fi n al essay entitled
, The S oul of Man which ,

”
also appeared in The F o rtn ightly R eview Upon .

its appearance it was called The S oul of Man

under S ocialism but it has since been re
,

published under the title of The Soul of

Man .
 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B e au ty 35 3
This essay brilliant in conception brilliant
, ,

in execution has none of the old lyric beauty

,

of phrase It can in no sense be considered a

.

masterpiece of prose but only a piece of fi n e

,

and cultured writing In it paradox obscures .

the underlying truth The very fi rst words .

“
strike the old weary note The chief ad .

vantage that would result from the establish

ment of S ocialism is undoubtedly the fact , ,

that S ocialism would relieve u s from that sordid

necessity of living for others which in the , ,

present condition of things presses so hardly ,

”
upon himself and everybody .

As far as the prose artist is concerned the ,

essay has little to recommend it H e was tired .

,

tired out and had no longer the wish or the

,

stimulus to produce the marvellous and glowing

prose to which we have been accustomed in
these other statements of the writer s attitude ’

towards art towards morals and towards beauty

, .

Yet at the same time the man s love of in

, ,
’

dividualism drove him to write this essay and ,

at certain points it comes strangely into impact

with C atholic truth .

The more C atholic the conception of religion

and of art becomes the more s urely the socialistic
,

idea obtains C ertainly our L ord taught that

.

individual character can only be developed

through community The great socialistic organ
.

of England attemp ted the value and weight of

 Th e P hilo so p hy o f B eau ty 35 5
t o recapture the State and through it to establish
,

God s Kingdom on earth

’
.

I quote them here in order to show what

sympathy the essay awakened even though that
,

sympathy is utterly alien to the belief of the

chronicler A nd now let u s fi n ally bid farewell
.

to Oscar Wilde as fEst h e t e o r rather as prophet

, , ,

and expounder of the ae sthetic .

I have placed on record not only my own

small O pinion of his teachings but a very solid
,

and weighty consensus of condemnation of his

attitude .

A nd I hope from the purely literary point of

,

View I have made obeisance and given every

,

credit to one of the greatest literary artists of

our t ime .
 PA R T V III
D E P R O FUND I S
 D E P R OFUND I S

I H A V E entered on a performan ce which is

without example whose accomplishments will
,

have no imitator I mean to present my fellow

.

mortals with a man in all the integrity of nature ;

and this man shall be myself .

I know my heart and have studied mankind

,

I am not made like anyone I have been ac

q u a in t e d with perhaps
, like no one in existence
if not better I at least claim originality and
, ,

whether Nature did wisely in breaking the

mould with which she formed me can only be ,

determined after having read this work .

“
Whenever the last trumpet shall sound I ,

will present myself before the sovereign J u dge

with this book in my hand and loudly proclaim , ,

Thus have I acted ; these were my thoughts ;

such was I With equal freedom and veracity
.

have I related what was laudable or wicked I ,

have concealed no crimes added no Virtues ; and ,

if I have sometimes introduced supe rfl u o u s

ornament it was merely to occupy a void
,

occasioned by defect of memory I may have .

supposed that certain which I only knew to ,

be probable but have never asserted as truth

,

a conscious falsehood S uch as I was I have

.
,

declared myself sometimes vile and despicable ,

35 9
3 6 0 O scar W ild e
at others Virtuous generous and su b lime Even
, , , .

as thou hast read my inmost soul Power eternal ,

assemble round thy throne an innumerable throng

of my fellow mortals let them listen to my con
-
,

fessions let them blush at my depravity let

, ,

them tremble at my su fferings ; let each in his

turn expose with equal sincerity the failings the ,

wanderings of his heart and if he dare aver , , , ,

I was better than that man .

These are the fi rst words in that book which

it was supposed would always stand as a type of
real self revelation and confession and which now
-

is thought of by all the world as merely a

brilliant piece of literature and an amaz ing tissue
of misrepresentations .

J ean J acq ue s R ousseau never gave his real self

to the world despite the loud Gallic boast of the
paragraphs above .

Did D e Quincey ? D id S t Augustine ? Did

anyone ever tell the truth about himself from
the very beginnings of literature Newman s ’

” ’
Apologia ; Bunyan s Grace Abounding the
J o urnals of Wesley ; the Memoirs of Madame
de Stael de L aunay ; the diary of Madame
D A rb lay ; the A u sm e ine m L eben of Goethe
’

“ —
the L ave ngro of B orrow how much in all
these and in the hundred other works of like
nature which crowd to the mind how much is ,

—
self deception how much picturesque fi ctio n
,

Who can say ?

 D e Pr o fundi s 3 6 1

There is only one way of de termining the value

of an autobiographical st at e m e nt by a com m

parison of internal evidence with external historic

fact In the case of people whose generation
.

has passed away this task is beset with di th

c u lt ie s though not impossible
, In the case of .

one who has but recently died whose friends ,

and contemporaries are living still about whom ,

documentary and oral evidence abounds the task ,

is more easy though still a hard and possibly a

, , ,

thankless one .

In a consideration and criticism however of , ,

’ ”
Oscar Wilde s greatest work D e Profundis , ,

such an attempt must undoubtedly be made .

Yet this question of sincerity or reality is not

,

the only one to be determined and it will be ,

well therefore to treat of D e Profundis with

, ,

the assistance of a de finit e plan of criticism .

L e t u s then divide this part of the book into

several sections .

There are undoub t edly a great many people

, ,

who have heard the name of the book and read

the extraordinarily copious reviews of it in the
public press but have no further acquaintance
,

with it than j ust that It will be necessary .

,

therefore in the fi rst instance to give an account

, ,

of the actual subj ect matter in order to make -

the following criticism intelligible and it is to ,

be hoped to induce them to purchase and

,

read this marvellous monograph which is o ne ,

 D e Pr o fundi s 6
3 3
the book was canvassed and discussed and , ,

strange as it may seem a vast amount of venom

,

and bitterness was mingled with the bulk of

eulogy The student of contemporary literature
.
,

or perhaps in view of what I am going to say it

, ,

would be better to call it contemporary book

publishing can h n d no parallel to the interest
,

and excitement this book occasioned save only ,

in the case of a very di fferent production called

When i t was D ark an over rated sensational
,
-

novel by a M r Guy Thorne whose Views

“
,
”

excited the various religious parties in the C hurch

of England to a sort of frenzy for and against
them .

In pure literature I know of nothing which ,

upon its appearance made such an immediate

,

stir as D e Pr o fundis
“
.
”

With the various views of various sections of

the community I propose to deal later With
, .

the doubts tha t were thrown on its authenticity

as a genuine prison manuscript I have already
dealt I may here however quote a few words
.
, ,

of a statement made by the editor of D e Pro

fundis M r R obert R oss to a representative of
,
”
,

an evening paper They will explain for the

.

reader all that he will further fi n d necessary to

introduce him to the circums t ances under which
D e Profundis appeared .

My obj ect he said

, in publishing this ,

book as I have indicat ed in the preface and in

,
 6
3 4 O sc ar W ild e
my letter to The S t J ames s G az ette was that
’

M r Oscar Wilde might come to be regarded as a

factor in English literature alo ng with his dis
t ingu ish e d contemporaries The success of D e
.

Profundis and the reviews lead me to believe

that my obj ect has been achieved .

“
I cannot expect the world to share my
admiration of M r Os car Wilde as a man of
letters at present although that admiration is
, ,

already shared by many distinguished men of

letters in E ngland by the whole of Germany
, ,

and by a considerable portion of the literary

class in France .

With regard t o the authenticity of the

manuscript I may say that it was well known
,

that during his incarceration at R eading Gaol he

was granted the privileges of pen and paper only ,

permitted in exceptional cases at the instance of

,

in fluent ial people not his personal friends The .

manuscript of D e Profundis about which he

‘
,
’

wrote to me very often during the last months

of his imprisonment was handed to me on the
,

day of his release The letters he had written

.

to me in reference to it are published in the

German edition of the work and later o u , ,

perhaps they may appear in England if I think

, ,

it desirable to publish them here .

C ontrary to general belief the manuscript

contains nothing of a scandalous nature and if ,

there was another obj ect in publishing the work

 D e Pr o fundi s 6
3 5
it was to remove that false impression which
had gained ground The portions which I have
.

omitted in the English publication apart from ,

the letters to which I have already referred as

appearing in the German edition are all of a ,

private character There are one or two unim

.

portant p assages which the English publisher

very wisely I think—deemed unsuitable for im
,

mediate reproduction in England .

In Germany M r Oscar W ilde s place in ’

English literature had already been accepted .

Salome for instance is now part of the reper

, ,

toire and Strauss the great musician is engaged

, , ,

on an opera based on M r Wilde s work which ’

he selected out of many others because of its

popularity in Germany and also no doubt on , , ,

account of the dramatic intensity of M r Wilde s ’

interpretation of the Bi blical story .

It is not for me to criticise or to appreciate

‘
D e Profundis on which many competent
’

writers have given their opi nions but I should ,

have imagined that it was su ffi cie nt ly clear that

M r O scar Wilde had not attempted to throw
any blame for his misfortune on anyone but
himself .

The manuscript is written on blue prison

foolscap There are a few corrections Although
. .

M r Wilde gave me very full instructions with

regard to those portions which he wished pub
lish e d he allowed m e absolute dis cretion in the
 D e Pr o fundi s 6
3 7
bosom of much perilous stu ff I need not re .
’

mind you that mere expression is to an artist the

supreme and only mode of life For nearly
.

two years I have had within a growing burden

of bitterness of much of which I have now got
,

rid.

This in some sort of way will give the reader

, ,

an idea of what the book consists o r at anyrate , ,

of its other View about it .

H e begins the work by a statement of the

terrible su ffering he is undergoing in prison .

The iron discipline the paralysing immobility of

,

a life which is as monotonous and regular as the

movement of a great machine are set forth ,

subj ectively by a presentment of the e ffects they

’
are having upon the prisoner s brain It is .

’
al ways twilight in one s cell as it is always
,

twilight in one s hear t

’
.

H e is transferred t o a n e w prison Three .

months elapse and he is told of his mother s

,
’

death H e speaks of his deep love and venera

.

tion for her and says that he who was once a

”
“
lord of language has now no words left in
which to tell of the appalling shame which has
seized upon his heart and mind H e realises the .

infamy with which he has covered that honoured

name .

A n anecdote comes into these sorrowful pages .

It is an anecdote of his sad and gu arded appear

ance among the world of men when he was
3 6 8 O scar W ild e
brought to appear before the C ourt of Bankruptcy .

As he walked manacled in the corridor towards

the C ourt R oom a friend of his wh o fwas waiting
, , ,

“
lifted his hat and bowed Waite d that before .
, ,

the whole crowd whom such an action so swee t

,

and simple hushed into silence he might raise ,

his hat to me as handcu ffed and with bowed

, ,

head I passed him by

, .

A page or two is occupied with the poor

convict s gratitude for this simple sweet and
’

dignifi e d action A marvellous eulogy is pro

.

n o u n c e d upon it .

What prison means to a man in the upper

ranks of life is set forth in words of anguish and ,

then following these paragraphs is a frank

, ,

“
admission that Wilde had rui n ed himself I .

am quite ready to say so I am trying to say .

so though they may not think it at the present

,

moment This pitiless indictment I bring with

.

”
out pity against myself .

H e describes the great and brilliant position

he had held in the world H e tells of all the .

splendid things with which fortune had endowed

him H e admits that he allowed pleasure to
.

dominate him and that his end came with

irremediable disgrace .

H e has lain in prison for nearly two years and ,

now he begins to describe his mental develop

ment during the long torture Humility he .
,

says is what he has found like a treasure in a

, ,
 De Pr o fundi s 6
3 9
fi e ld From this newly discovered treasure he
.

builds up a method of conduct which he will

pursue when he is released from durance H e .

knows indeed that kind friends will await him

, ,

on the other side of the prison door H e will .

not have to beg his bread but nevertheless , , ,

humility shall bloom like a flower in his heart .

H e begins to speak of religion and avows his ,

atheism The faith that others give to what is

.

unseen I give to what one can touch and look

, ,

”
at. There is no help for him in religion .

H e goes on to speak of reason There is no .

help for him in reason R eason tells him that .

the laws under which he was convicted were

wrong and u nj ust laws the system under which ,

he su ffered a wrong and unj ust system .

Yet in pursuance of his determination of

,

Humility he resolves to make all that has hap

,

pened to him into a spiritualising medium H e .

is going to weave his pain and agony into the

warp and woof of his life with the same readiness
with which he wove the time of pleasure and
success into the completion of his tempera
ment .

Then there comes a long discussion of his own

position at the moment a common prisoner in ,

a common gaol and of what his position will be

,

afterwards H e tells of occasions on which h e

.

was allowed to see his friends in prison and ,

afterwards describes a moment of his deepest

2 A
 De Pr o fundi s 37 1

the night with stars so that I may walk abroad

in the darkness without stumbling and send the ,

wi nd over my footprints so that none may track

me to my hurt ; she will cleanse me in great
waters and with bitter herbs make me whole
, .

DE P R O FU N D I S AS A PIECE or PR O S E

There is very little of the wise and sensuous

geniality of Horace in O scar Wilde s outlook ’

upon life But some lines of the poet never a

.
,

great favourite with W ilde by the way certainly ,

have a direct application upon the style of the

“
author of D e Profundis
S ae pe st i lu m v t it um qu di gn l gi int
e r as, er a
e a e s

S cri pt u ru s ; n qu t
e et mi t
e utu b l b re ur r a a o re s,

Co n t e n tu s p u i l t ib —S I 1 0 7 2
a c s ec or us .
”
. .
,
.

A piece of prose to Oscar Wilde was always ,

in a sense like a de fi n it e musical composition in

,

which words took the place of notes and he ,

carried out the poet s inj unction to polish and ’

rewrite with meticulous care .

Wilde had in a marvellously developed degree

, ,

the sense that a piece of prose was a built u p -

thing proceeding piece by piece movement by ,

movement sentence by sentence and word by

, ,

word towards a de fi nit e and well understood -

effect. It was the architectural conception

of work which foresees the end in the beginning
and never loses sight of it and in every part is ,
37 2 O sca r W ild e
conscious of all the rest till the last sentence ,

does but with undiminished vigour unfold and

, ,

j ustify the first .

These lines were written by O scar Wilde s ’

master in Engli sh prose Walter Pater and we , ,

shall see how entirely Wilde has adhered to such

an artistic attitude L ike the Greeks he b e
.
,

lie v e d in an elaborate criticism of lang u age and ,

the metrical movements of prose were scie nt ifi

cally and artistically interesting to him as any ,

student of harmony takes pleasure in a contra

puntal exercise The analogy is perfectly correct
.
,

and Wilde himself has drawn attention to it

more than once in his prose writings C ounter .

po int consisted in the old days of music when

, ,

a s ystem of sounds called points were used for

notation in two or more lines of these points ;
,

each line represented a melody which when set ,

against each other and sounded simultaneously ,

produced correct harmony .

W ilde s prose was moulded entirely upon an

’

apprecia tion of t hese facts and the ear must ,

always be t he critic of the excellence of his prose

rather than the intelligence in the first instance , ,

as reached by the eye If we read aloud passages

.

“ ”
of D e Profundis the full splendour of them
strikes u s far more poignantly than in any other
way It is true that Wilde s prose makes an
.
’

appeal ad cleru m and it is not necessary for the

,

connoisseur the ini tiat e t o apply the test o f the

, ,
 D e Pr o fundi s 37 3
spoken word But those who are not actually
.

conversant with the more technical niceties of

’
style will do well to read Wilde s prose aloud .

They will discover in it new and unsuspected

beauties .

Wilde at one period of his career published

, ,

a series of short paragraph stories which he

called Poems in Prose With him there were
many points of contact between prose and
poetry The two things could overlap and
.

intermingle though in his hands neither lost

,

its own individuality in the process There has .

been too much said in the past about the old

principle of sharp division between poetry and
prose This was a classical tradition and was
.

one which well applied to the Greek and L atin

languages It was maintained until a late era
.
,

in our own English literature by the Gibbons ,

and Macaulays who moulded themselves upon

C icero and L ivy But during the last century
.

the force of the old tradition weakened very

much A newer and more fl e x ible style of writ
.

ing became permissible C oleridge D e Quincey .

, ,

Swift L amb to mention a few names at

, ,

random showed that at anyrat e prose need

, , ,

no longer be written as a stately cataract of

ordered words with due balance and antithesis ,

and with certain rigid movements which w ere

thought indispensable to correct writing .

Dr Boswell said apropos of style — “

S o me
,
 De Pr o fundi s 37 5
In Wilde s Intentions we have an example
’

of his most ornamented and decorated prose so ,

marvellously musical that it reminds u s of a

fugue played on a mighty organ with inn u m e r
able stops Yet at the same time in this book
.
, ,

of Essays Oscar Wil de frequently laid himself

,

open to the charge of precocity and over elabora -

tion It is possible to obscure the grand and

.

massive lines of a building by an over elabora -

tion of detail Beautiful as decorated Gothic is

.
,

I have in mind the C athedral of C ologne there ,

is a more massive grandeur in the early medi ae val

work than anything the later style can give .

D e Profundis is purged of all the faults

one might almost say the faults of excellence
that the hypercritical student may sometimes
fi n d in the earlier prose of its author J ust as .

the man himself was purged and pu rifi e d in mind

by the terrible e x periences of prison so his style ,

also became stronger and more beautiful and ,

what was once reminiscent of a marvellous

nocturne or ballade of C hopin or some mad ,

s carlet thing by D vorak inherent with all the

beauty of j ust this now acquires the harmony
,

and strength of a great wind blowing through a

forest .

The prose is still full of the old symbolism and

imagery but these two means of producing an
,

e ffect are used with much more restraint of

language and simplicity of words Note for .
,
37 6 O scar W ild e
e x ample how the following paragraph e spe ci
, ,

ally when read aloud proceeds from symbol to

,

symbol with a marvellously adroit use of the

dactyl and the spo n daa or rather their e qu iva
,

lents in English prosody until the fi nal thought

,

is enunciated the voice drops the sentence is

, ,

complete . When one has weighed the sun in

the balance and measured the steps of the moon ,

and mapped out the seven Heavens star by ,

”
star there still remains oneself
, .

Here we notice in addition the extraordinary

,

infl u e n ce that the wor ds of the Bible always had

upon the prose of Oscar Wilde In his lonely .

prison cell where nearly the whole of his reading

,

m ust have consisted of Holy S cripture the in ,

fl u e n c e was naturally greater than ever before .

“ ”
No one can read D e Profundis with its
rhythmic repetitions of phrase without realising
this in an e x traordinary degree Take the .

passage I have j ust quoted and the following

paragraph which let me assure my readers I
, , ,

have taken quite at random opening a Bible ,

and turning over but a very few leaves of the

Old Testament without any regular search ,

“
S o that they shall take no wood out of the
fi e ld neither cut down out of the forest ; for
,

they shall burn the weapons with fi re : and they

shall spoil those that spoiled them and rob those ,

”
that robbed them saith the L ord God
, .

Yes ! there can be no possible doubt that

 D e Pr o fundi s
“
much of the inspiration of D e Profundis
—
that is the purely literary inspiration cam e
,

from the solemn harmonies and balanced

phrases of the old Hebrew singers and poets .

With J o b Oscar Wilde might well have said

, ,

and his own lamentations are strangely re

m inisce nt of the phrase “
M y harp is turned
,

to mourning and my organ into the voice of

”
them that weep .

“
In D e Profundis the special passages of
rare and melodious beauty which star the printed
page at no long intervals have been very ,

widely commented upon and q uoted B y this .

time they are quite familiar to all who take an

interest in modern literature and this master
,

piece of it in particular Yet in considering the

.
,

prose of D e Profundis we must not forget to

pay a due meed of praise to the great substance
of the book in which an extraordinary ease and
dignity of style an absolute simplicity of e ffect
, ,

which conceals the most elaborate art and the

most profound knowle dge of the s cience of
words links together those more memorable
, ,

because more striking passages which leap out

,

from the page and plant themselves in the mind

of the appreciative reader like arrows .

There is hardly a word in D e Profundis ‘ ’

misplaced misused or used at all unless the

, ,

fullest possible value is got from its presence m

the sentence Even now and t hen when in the
.
, ,
 D e Pr o fundi s 37 9

D E P R O FU N D I S AS A R E V E L A TI O N or SEL F

We now c o me to a consideration of D e Pro

fundis as a revelation or not of the real senti , ,

ments and thoughts of the man who wrote it .

To the British temperament it is always far

more important in the judgment of a book that
, ,

the writer should be sincere in the writing than

that what he wrote should be perfectly artistic .

Th e British public i ndeed th e wh ole Anglo , ,

S axon world has never been able to adapt itself

,

to the French attitude that provided a thing i ,

a fl awle ss work of art the sincerity of the writer,

has n o t hing what e ve r to do with its worth ) This

n x
_ .

attitude Wilde himself consistently preached in

season and out of season For example he .
,

wrote a study of Wainwright the poisoner , ,

which read from the ordinary English ethical

,

point of View would seem to show him a most

,

sympathetic advocate of crime provided only ,

the criminal committed his crimes in an artistic

manner and had also a sense of art in life .

When a friend reproached the monster Wain

wright with the m urder of an innocent girl ,

Helen Abercrombie to whom he owed every ,

duty of kindness and protection he shrugged his ,

shoulders and said — “

Yes it was a dreadful ,

”
thing to do but she had very thick ankles
,
If .

“ ’

we are to take Oscar Wilde s essay Pen , ,

Pencil and Poison quite seri o usly we must,

”
3 8 0 O sc ar W ild e
believe him to be utterly indifferent to the
monstrous moral character of the hero of his
memoir H e speaks of him as being not merely
.

a poet and a painter an art critic and antiquarian

, ,

a writer of prose and a dilettante of things

delightful but also a forger of no mean nor
,

ordinary capacities and as a subtle and secret

,

poisoner almost without rival in this or any age .

When D e Profundis fi rst made its appear

ance and the flood of criticism began dozens of ,

critics pounced upon the book admitted its ,

marvellous literary charm and achievement and ,

said that its author was absolutely and utterly

insincere in all he wrote about himself The .

Times for example which still holds a certain

,

pre eminence of place although it is the fashion

-
,

of a younger generation to decry it and to pre

tend that it has lost all its in fl u e n ce owing both ,

to the change of public taste in j ournalistic

requirements and certain business enterprises
which have been associated with its name spoke ,

out to this e ffect with careful and calculated

sincerity .

In an article which was extremely well written

and had indubitably a certain psychological
“
insight the leading j ournal condemned D e
,

Profundis from an ethical point of view with

no uncertain voice It said that while it was
.
,

possessed by every wish to unders t and the

author and to sympathise with him in t he
 D e Pr o fundi s 3 8 1

hideous ruin of his brilliant career it was im po s ,

sible except in a very few instances to regard

, ,

his posthumous book as anything but a mere

literary feat .

The excellence of that was gran t ed but it was ,

not allowed to be anything more than that .

It was not in thi s way so said the writer in ,

The Times that souls were laid bare this was ,

not sorrow but the most de x trous counterfeit

,

of sorrow Wilde so the review stated was

.
, ,

o ba l bl
i pr b y e to cry from the depths at all
‘
u n a .
g ‘ fi

His book simply showed that there was an

armour of egotism which no arrow of fate was
“
able to pierce E ven in D e Profundis the
.

poseur supplemented the artist and the truth ,

was not in him If the heart of a broken man

.

showed at all in the book it must said The ,

Times , be looked for between the lines It .

”
was rarely in them ,

In short so the review when summed up and

, ,

crystallised implied Wilde was incapable of

, ,

telling the truth about himself or about any ,

thing at all S ometimes in his writings he fell

.

upon the truth by accident and then his works ,

contained a modicum of truth C onsciously he .

,

was never able to discover it consciously he was , ,

never able to enunciate it .

N o w that is a point of View which is natural

,

enough but which after careful study I cannot

, ,
-
,

substanti ate in any way Over and over again .

 D e Pr o fundi s 8
3 3
“
O scar Wilde describes himself as a lord of
language . This is perfectly true H e goes on .

“
to say that he stood in symbolic relations to
”
the art and culture of his time This is only .

half true H e continues that I felt it myself

.
“

”
and made others feel it The first half of this
.

sentence is too true t he second half is untrue

, ,

inasmuch as it implies that he made everyone

feel it whereas he mistook the flattery and
,

adulation of a tiny coterie for the applause and

sanction of a nation Os car Wilde always lived
.

within four very narrow walls A t one time .

they were the swaying misty walls conj ured up

by a few and not very important voices at ,

another they were the walls of concrete and

corrugated iron the whitewashed w alls of his
,

prison cell H e s ays that his relations to his

.

time were more noble more permanent of more , ,

’
Vital issue of larger s cope than Byron s relation
,

to his time Then almost in the same breath

.
, ,

he begins to tell u s that there is only one thing

“
for him now absolute humility
, That some .

thing hidden away in his nature like a treasure

in a fi e ld is humility .

C omment is almost cruel here

’
s
f
J
'
f ‘
.

In another part of D e Profundis the author

airily and lightly touches upon those horrors
which had ruined him and made him what he
was and which kept him where he was
,
.

“
People thought it dreadful of me to have
 8
3 4 O scar W ild e
entertained a t dinner the evil things of life and ,

to have found pleasure in their company Bu t .

then from the point of View through which I as

, ,

an artist in life approached them they were

, ,

delightfully suggestive and stimulating The .

danger was half the excitement .

Is this Humility and I S this R epentance ? To

me it seems as terrible a conviction of madness
and inability to understand the depth to which
he had sunk as one could find in the whole
realm of literature .

“
People thought it dreadful of me to have
entertained etc etc D oes not the very phrase
, . .

suggest that Wilde still thinks in his new found -

”
“
hu m ility that it was not dreadful of him at
all and that he had a perfect right to do so ?

There is no doubt of his absolute sincerity .

H e is absol u tely i ncapable of understanding .

H e still thinks lying in torture that he has done

, ,

nothing wrong H e has made an error of

.

j udgment he has misapprehended his attitude

,

towards society H e has not sinned

. Once .

only does he admit in a single sentence that

, ,

any real culpability attached to him I grew .

careless of the lives of others This shows that .

a m o m e nt ary glim pse of the truth had entered

'

that unhappy brain but it is carelessly uttere d

, ,

and carelessly dismissed All he cared for if we

.
,

believe this book to be sincere as I think nobody ,

who really understands the man and his mental

 De Pr o fundi s 8
3 5
condition at the time that it was written can ,

fail to believe is that every fresh sensation at

, ,

any cost to himself and others was his only duty ,

towards himself and his art .

“ ”
Doubtless when he wrote D e Profundis
Oscar “ ilde believed absolutely in his own
I

attitude H e was no L ucifer in his own ac

.

count no fallen angel H e was only a spirit of

, .

light which had made a mistake and found itself

in fetters That is the tragedy of the book that
.
,

its author could never see himself as others saw

him or realise that he had sinned When S atan .

fell from Heaven in Milton s mighty work he

,
’

made no attempt to persuade himself that he

had found something hidden away within him
”
like a treasure in a fi e ld Humility There .

was in the imaginary portrait of the Author of

Evil still an awful and impious de fi an ce of the
Forces that controlled all nature and him as a
part of nature .

Oscar Wilde could look back upon all he did

to himself and all the incalculable evil he wrought
upon others and say quite calmly that he did not
regret for a single moment having lived for
pleasure H e tells u s that he threw the pearl
.

of his soul into a cup of wine that he went ,

down the primrose path to the sound of

fl ut e s
. A nd then after living on honeycomb
,

he realises that to have continued living on

honeycomb would have been wrong because ,

2 B
 De Pr o fundi s 8
3 7
The Sinlessness of Christ referred to the ,

portions of D e Profundis with which I am ,

”

dealing now in no uncertain way

, .

There are here and there things that a C atholic

would not entirely endorse in C anon Beeching s ’

sermon yet on the whole it is a very sane and

, , ,

fair presentation of what a Christian must think

”
in reading D e Profundis It is as well to say
.

frankly that I write as a C atholic and in this

, , ,

section of my criticism for those who are also of

,

the Faith .

I print some e x tracts from C anon B eeching s ’

sermon
“
One wonders sometimes said h e if , ,

Englishmen have given up reading their gospels .

A book has lately appeared which presents a

caricature of the portrait of C hrist and especially ,

a travesty of His doctrine about sin that is quite ,

astonishing ; and with one or two honourable

exceptions the daily and weekly Press have
praised the book enthusiastically and especially ,

the study it gives of the character of Christ ;

whereas if that picture were true the Pharisees
, ,

were right when they said to Him that H e cast

out devils through B e e z le b ub and the priests ,

were right in sending Him to death as a per

verter of the people The writer of the book
.
,

who is dead was a man of exceptional literary

,

talent who fell into disgrace ; and whether it

,

is pity for his sad fate or admiration of his

3 8 8 O sc ar W ild e
style in writing that has cast a spell upon the
reviewers and blinded them t o his meaning I ,

cannot say ; but I do say they have not done

their duty to English society by lauding the
book as they have done without giving parents
,

and guardians some hin t that it preaches a

doc t rine of sin which if taken into romantic
, ,

and impressionable hearts will send them quick ,

ly down the road of shame The chief point on.

which the writer fi x e s is C hrist s behaviour to ’

t h e sinners ; and his the o ry is that C hrist con

sort ed with them because H e found them more
interes t ing than the good people who were ,

’
stupid . The world he says had always loved
, ,

the saint as being the neares t possible approach

to the per fecti o n o f God ; C hrist through some ,

divine ins t inct in Him seems t o have always

,

loved the sinner as being the nearest possible

approach to the perfec tion of man To turn an .

interesting thief into a t edious honest man was

not His aim . Bu t in a manner not yet
unders t ood of the world H e regarded sin and
suffering as being in t hemselves beautiful and
’
holy things and modes of perfection
, It seems .

to have struck the writer at this point that our

L ord had Himself explained t hat H e consorted
with sinners as a physician with the sick to call
, ,

them to repentance For he goes on

. Of
course the sinner must repent ; but why
simply b ecause o t herwise he would be unable
 D e Pr o fundi s 8
3 9
to realise what he had done In other words .
3

a man is the better for any sort of emotional

experience when it is past because he is fertil
, ,

ised by it as by a crop of wild oats ; a form of

philosophy which Tennyson in In Memoriam
well characterised as Procuress to the L ords of
But even t his writer absolutely shame
’
Hell.
,

less and unabashed as he is does not hint that ,

C hrist Himself gained His moral beauty by

sinning The lowest depth of woe is theirs
.

who call evil good and good evil for that is a ,

poisoning of the well of life What is the use of

.

calling J csus good if we destroy the very

meaning of goodness May God have pardoned
?

the sin of the man who put this stumbling block -

in the way of the simple and may H e shield o ur

,

boys and young men from that doctrine of devils

that the way of perfection lies through sin .

These words although they are obviously said

,

without any sympathy whatever for Oscar Wilde ,

have the germ of truth within them Strong as .

they are and no one who had really studied the

,

whole work and life of O sc arW ilde would perhaps

care to make so h erce a statement they are , ,

nevertheless words of weight and value I have

, .

no record among my documents of any Catholic

priest who dealt with the C hristian aspect of De
”
Profundis upon its publication Nevertheless ,
,

I have conversed with Christians of all de n o m i

nati o ns on t he subj ect of Wilde s discovery
’
 D e Pr o fundi s 39 1

in Wilde s eyes the source of all art H e is a

’

, .

requisite for the beautiful H e is in R omeo “

.

”
and J ulie t in The Winter s Tale in Provencal
,
’

“ “ ”
poetry and in The Ancient Mariner
, Hence .

C hrist becomes the palpitating centre of romance ,

H e has all the colour elements of life mystery , ,

strangeness pathos suggestion ecstasy love

, , , , .

A nd then Wilde finally says that is why he

is so fascinating to artists This summing up .

of the personality and mission of the S aviour of

the world as a mere element in the life of mental
or spiritual pleasure enj oyed by those who are
cultivated to such a life at all strikes the C hris ,

tian man or woman with dismay It is horrible .

,

this patronising analysis of the R edeemer as an

other and great D ante merely a supreme artist to
,

whom artists should bow because of that and no ,

more .

Wilde in fact de fi n it e ly states that the

, ,

artistic life means for him the tasting in turn

of good and evil the entertainment of saints
,

and devils for the sake of extending the circle of

,

his friends H e approaches the Personality of

.

C hrist su b sp ecie artis and only in this way and

, ,

his words are the more terrible to the devout

C hristian because they are so beautiful D o we .

not remember indeed that once when a young

, ,

man knelt to our L ord and called Him good ,

the S aviour put him aside ? Does it not strike

one that there is something very nearly blas
39 2 O scar W ild e
ph e m o u s in the man who had lived the con
scio u sly antinomian life that Oscar Wilde lived
daring to call the S aviour idyllic poetic dramatic , , ,

charming fascinating
,
? D oes not the poet use
the personality of our L ord as a mere peg on
which to hang his own gorgeous and j ewelled
imagery a reed through which he should make
,

his own artistic music 7 Our L ord did not come

in to the world to win admiration bu t to win the
soul from sin His appeal was not to our
.

imagination but to our dormant souls to rous e

,

and strengthen them .

O scar Wilde writes of J esus but there is no ,

C ross . There is a S aviour but no repentance , ,

no renewal of life no effort after Holiness

, , .

It is terrible indeed to think of the poor un

, ,

happy author striving to appreciate J esus though ,

surely even his blind semi appreciation of the -

Personality of our L ord was better than none at

all and then to know that even the little germ
,

of truth which seemed to have come into his life

was forgotten and pushed away when once more
the appreciator of J e su s of N az are t h returned
t o the world .

As an English minister pointed out the moral ,

of Wilde s attitude towards the C hristian Faith

’

is as old as S cripture itself and as modern as ,

Browning also who in the painter s question

, ,
’

gave art and what more wish you

, re

plied
 D e Pr o fundi s 39 3
m w lf a q ai t
To b e co e no se - c u n e rs,

A d p aint m
n m a wh at van ,th i u n, e er e ss e,

M k w h p hin th u gh th fl h th y f y
a e ne o es s e ro e es e ra ,

N w f a
e e
gg n di
rs a t h ra
g d tatt se e ra s an e rs,

T b in g t h invi ibl full int pl y

o r e s e o a

L t th vi ibl g t th d g —
,

e e s e wh at m att
o o P e o s e rs

Finally we have to ask ourselves what is the

precise value of this last legacy Oscar W ilde
f
has le to u s
t ? I think it is j ust this We have .

upon our shelves a piece of incomparable prose .

I know of nothing written in recent years that

comes anywhere near it as an almost fl awle ss
work of art Nobody who cares for English
.

literature or who understands in the least degree ,

what fi n e writing is and means will ever neglect ,

this minor classic From another point of view

.

also it has its value We who appreciate the

, .

immense genius of Oscar Wilde and mourn for

a wrecked life and the extinction of a bright
intellect will care for and treasure this volume
,

for its personal pathos its high and serene beauty ,

of e x pression and also b ecause as a psycho

, ,

logical doc ument it throws a greater light upon

,

the extraordinary brain and personality of its

author than anything he had written in the past .
 I N D EX

E S TH TI C E M O V EM ENT 7 9,
-
12, B i rth day f
o th e [ i zf a/z ta, Th e, 2 39
w ll q d
,

I
9 , 22, 29 Bo s e uo te , 37 3 37 4
-

z Esth e tics
l

A rt and m o ra ty, 337 -34 4 li Ch an son , 2 6 5

A rt c ri tici sm di st ngui sh e i d Ch arm z aes, 2 6 3 2 6 4
’

C
-

f
333 ro m , urri e , L ady, uo te d, q 2 85 -
2 86
M e aning and sco p e o i , 332
’
k
R us in s te ach ng re gar ng, i di D ai ly C h ron i cle
338 ’ 34 0 S a o mé l ”
Cri ti q u e in, q uo te d
bl f
-

l
W i de s e i e in h is v o catio n 1 90- 1 92
,

as to , 33 1 h is wr1 t1 ngs, 333 Wi l ’

l
de s e tte rs to , Ci te d, 8 1 8 4 -

h is e c ture s , 334 -336 l D ai ly [ Vl z rror Cl te d, 7 4

A
q
i ’

i f
l
me r ca, W i de s to ur 1 11 , 1 8 , 2 9 ;
uo tat o n ro m h is e c ture s, 334 l
D ai ly Tte legraph , e tract ro m, 6 5
68
x f
A
336
nde rso n , M iss M ar , 1 99 -2 00
’
D A ub re v 1 lly, B ar
D e Prof i m az s
’
b e y, q uo te d , 2 83

y
Apo logi a, 2 6 9 A uth e ntimty o f, as p riso n
Air sto t e Ci te d, l
34 2 w 7 6 , 36 4 36 5
ri tte n , 71 - -

A1 t Ch ir st as de p i c te d m , 38 6 39 2
’
A
rt s sa e , fo r, 34 5 k E im
st ate o f, 36 2 , 39 3
M o ra i ty and, 337 34 4 l -
Ex tracts f1 o m , 35 9 -36 0, 37 6 ,

VV 1 lde s wr1 tings o h , 333

’

37 8 , 38 3 38 6 39 0 39 1
- -

A ve [ 71 :fi e ratrz x , 2 4 8 -2 5 0 f
Pre ac e to , 36 6 -36 7
.

ii i
Pre ss c r t c sms o u, 38 0
B allad of R eadi ng G ao l Pubh cat1 o n and re ce p t o n o f, i
C i
ri t c i sms o i , 2 8 5 2 8 6
D e di catio n o i, 2 8 7
-
3 6 2 -
36 3
R o ss, R , o n p u i cat o n o i,
. bl i
E
sti m at e o f, 2 6 2 , 2 8 3 2 8 4 , 2 9 8 -
36 3 366
-

Quo tat1 o ns ro m , 2 8 7 2 9 7 f -
lf l
S e re ve ati o n ih , 360 37 9
-

i
,

R e vis o n o f, 2 8 6 38 6
O wi
th e r se m e nt o ne d, 8 6 , 2 7 3 i S mce rity o i , 38 2 , 38 4 -38 5
ll
B a ad p aro y, 2 6 6 d '
lb l l
S ty e O fa
B allade ae fil argi t érz te, 2 6 4 2 6 5
’
B i i ca 1 nfl ue nc e , 37 6 -37 7
C b
-

B au e aire ,dl l
h ar e s, m fi ue nce o f, S u j e c t m atte r o f, 36 7 -37 1
on ld
W i e , 2 4 5 2 4 6 , 2 5 8 , 2 7 3, -
D es Spon ettes, 2 6 9
2 74 , 2 82 uo te d, 245, q
252 ; D evo ted F ri en d, Th e , 2 2 9 , 2 33-2 34
D am e M acabre uo te , 2 74 q d D ale of th e K i ng s D augh ter, Th e,
’

2 76 2 65
B augh am, E A , uo te . on . q d D re ss, rati onale o f, 1 4 - 1 5
S alome, 1 9 5 - 1 9 7 D uch ess of Padu a, Th e
’

B e ar s e y,
B e e ch ng,
dl u rey, 4 0 -4 1
i
an o n , uo te
A
C boh D e q d—
A d
n e rso n , M iss M ary, re usa
b y, 1 99 -2 00
f l
Profi m di s, 38 7 -38 9 Estl mate o f, 1 9 9 , 2 05 2 06 -

B e rne va , W de s
’
l il
e at, 8 4 lif I nflue nces in , 4 9
l
d
Be rnh ar t, Mm e S arah , 1 6 1 , 1 8 7 P o t o i, 2 00 -2 04
il d i li
.

1 8 8 ; W de s so nn e t to , 2 6 7 Pro uct o n o f, in Ber n, 2 05

’

39 7
 I nd e x 39 9
Pe nningto n, H arp e r, p o rtrai t of
W i l d by 4 4
e B e a dsley s l llustratio ns to , 1 84
g
,

Pi ct u re f D o ori an G ray, Th e 1 5
E p ig m f ra s ro m , in W i ld ’
e s Be rnh ardt, r tte n fo r, 1 61 wi
p l
3I Says. h e r de a i ngs re gardi ng, 1 8 7l
Estl mate o f, 3 1 9 1 88
E xtrac ts fro m , 3 1 2
H uysmans i nfluence i n, 4 9
’
3
- 1
8 CC
e nso r s p ro h
’

ii
ri t c sms o u ,
i ti o n o i , 1 8 7

uo te d, 1 90 1 9 3
ib
q -

f
Pre ac e to , 303
S to ry o f, 304 -3 1 2
Po e , E A , influe nce o f, o n W
. .
Poems i n Prose, 34 8 -35 2 , 37 3
Po e m s, p asto ra , 2 5 9 -2 6 2
( S ee also
G e rman p o p u ari ty o f, 36 5 l
L anguage o i , 1 8 6
e, ild Pro ductl o n o i ih Par s, 1 8 8 ; — i
in L o ndo n , 1 8 9 - 1 9 3 ; in
i
v ar o us Co n tm e ntalco un tn e s
l
1 9 3- 1 9 4 ; in B e r i n , 1 9 5 ; m l ,

k
.

ti tles of Poems ) N ew Yo r , 1 95
l iw i
.

Po e try, W i de s v e s as to sim
’
S tage d re cti o ns o f, 1 6 7 , 1 8 5
plic1 ty in, 2 4 6 -2 4 7 1 86
Pre ci o us sto ne s, Wi ld k wl ’
e s no e dge S tage cra t o f, 1 8 1 - 1 8 2 f
o fi 31 2 S to ry o f, 1 62 - 1 8 0
Pro ve r b s, W i ld e s
’
transmutat i o ns o f, To ne o i , 1 8 3
S an Al m z ato, 2 5 5
31 9
Pu n ch ,
f
re e re n ce s
2 1 -2 2 ,
to
38 ; b
W il
ib li
de
o gra ph y o f
-2 8 ;
S co tt,
of L ady
Cl
ement , cr t c sm
Wm dermere s F an ,
’
by, iii
1 11 2 3
q d
,

uo tat l o n s 2 9 34 , 2 7 1 uo te 1 04 , 1 05
q
-
, ,

S etfis/z G i an t, Th e, 2 32 -2 33
Quee ns b e rry case , 56 S eren ade , A 2 6 3
k
S h a e sp e are s influe nce o n W i ld
Qaz a Al ain A mori ,
’
2 69 e,
2 64
R ave nn a, 2 4 7 -2 4 8 S h ann o n, M r, 2 39
i
Re ad ng G ao l S h e rard, R H , c te , 6 , 1 1 ,
. . i d
B allad of R eadi ng G aol, se e 84
th at ti t e l w
Sha , G B D on j am: i n H ell,
C li
rue t e s p e rp e trate d i h , 8 1 -8 3

VV 1 lde s re mo va to , 37 0 ; 11 1 5 l
i
.

c te d, 1 2 1 - 1 2 3, 1 5 7
.

S ib b e rn , C i te d, 34 2
’

lf
i e in , 7 6 - 7 8 , 8 5 S l m o n , J A , uo te d, 39 -4 1 q
b ll
R e e , H ugue s, e st mate o f W i de
b y, 4 8 - 5 0
i l
. .

S o c1 ah sm W 1 1de s V I CW S o h , 35 3
’
,

S o u l of M an , Th e , 2 35 , 35 2 -35 5
R emarh ahle R och et, Th e, 2 34 - 2 35 Sph i n x , Th e, 2 7 2 , 2 7 6 -2 8 3
R eq u iescat , 2 5 3-2 5 4 S tar- Ch z td, Th e, 2 4 1 -2 4 2
k
R i c e tts, C S , 1 9 2 , 1 9 3, 2 39 -2 4 0, S tory of an U n h appy F ri en dsh ip,
i d
. .

2 83 Th e , c te , 6
R o man Cath o h c
o f, o n W i ld
C
h urch , influence
e , 2 4 0, 2 5 4 -2 5 5 , 2 5 8 ,
l
S ty e , 2 4 6 , 37 1 -37 8
wi b
S n urne , A C , W e s e st mate ’
. i ld i
.

o f, 2 5 1

d A
Home U n msz t
—
2 4 0, 2 5 6 S ymo ns, rth ur, Ci te , 333
’
’

ea,

l
b
R o ss, Ro e rt , uo te d o h th e t o f

W i de s M S S , 2 1 5 o n p u i ca
’
q f
bl T W i ld
ape stry, k wl d e s
’
no o i,
. e ge
tl o n o f D e Prq m dz s, 36 3-36 6 3 3 1
cite d, 2 1 7 ; m e ntio n e , 7 5 d T Mi E ll
e rry, W ld ss e n, i
’
e s so nn e ts

R o sse tti , D G , in flue nce o i , o n

. . to , 2 6 7
W l lde , 2 4 6 , 2 5 2 , 2 5 4 , 2 5 6 2 5 8 , Ti mes, Th e
2 65 B al/ad of R eadi ng G aol p raise d
k
R us i n, Jo h n , uo te , 338 -34 0 q d by, 2 8 5
D e o z m az s cr t c se
’
by, ii i d
S age G reen , 2 66 38 0 -
38 1
S t j ames s G az ette ,
’
e x tract f ro m, x
x f f
Trihz m e, e tract ro m, 2 1 5 -2 1 7
Tru th , e trac t ro m, 6 9 -7 0
4 00 I nd e x
Vera, or Th e N i h i li sts C h aracte r s i ti —m cs n tz m z ea
’
’

i
D ramat s p e rso nae o i, 2 07 -2 08 i
Pe rv e rs ty an d h ms ca ty, 34 w i i li
E i
st mate o f, 2 1 2 -2 1 3 f i
Pro us o n and sp e n o ur, taste l d
l
P o t o f, 2 08 -2 1 2 fo r, 4 6
i
Pro duc t o n o i, in me r ca, 2 07 A i lf l
S e -p agiar sm , 3 1 5 i
V e rsat 90, 30 1il i ty,

W ain w igh r t th e p o i so ne r 37 9 W it, 4 6 , 9 8 , 1 03

l C
W i de o nstan ce Mary, 2 35 ,
,

2 48 i
D ram at c p o e rs o f w
q d illi di l
,

uo te 44 46 -
B r ancy o f a o gue , 9 5 -9 9 ,
W i ld O Fi l
,

O F lah e rtie
’
e, scar nga 1 10
W 1 lls P otl i 9 7 98
nte rest, -

An cestry o f, 1 1 l
R e a i ty o f ch aracte rs and
A pp re c at i i —i on o gro wh t o f, 3 5 sc e ne s 9 6 , 1 00 , 1 02
Care e r o i fi
se c o n d,
rst
,

p er o id , 7 ,

th rd, i
16 E i st mates o f, b y

G ro lle au, M
,

h ar e s, 4 7 -4 8 C l
42 ; 4 2 53
5 3 79 ;
-

in A me r ca,
f o urth ,

i 7 9 90 ; to ur
1 8, 2 9 ; an
-

b k b
L a o uch e re , H 1 7 - 1 9
N o rdau, D r M ax , 1 2 - 1 6
.

ruptcy,
fusal to
2 1
f fior e
5, 2 2 0 , 36 8 ; t e
t h is a , 54 b il Fi i
bl
R e e ! , H ugues, 4 8 -5 0
ct o n o i , ch aracte r st cs o f, 302 i i
5 7 ; th e

l Que e ns
and se nt e nce ,
b e rry case , 303
H o me o f, C l he
5 6 ; tri a 65 ; at se a, 4 3 44
-

Cl l f
ap h am J
unc t o n d
di G l
i e p iso e, I nsani ty o f 1 1
I nte rvi ew wi th
9 1 , 38 2 , 38 4
,

uo t e d, 35 38
-1 2
q
,

370 ; i e 1 11 R e a ng ao
l 7 l i
, ,

6
7 7 , 8 5 ; re e ase , 6 ;
- 8
ast L if e qf, b y S h e rard, c te d, 6
y e ars 8 4 88 ;
-
e ath , d 88 L ite rary sty e o f, 37 1 -37 8 l
CC i i ,

h aracte r st cs o f
h arm o f manne r, 4 6 W or k
o f,
i
Po rtra t o f, by Pe nn into n , 4 4
a so u te y di st nct blif l l i
C p l xi
o m e ty, 5 0 5 1 , 79 f
ro m p rivate e , 4 , 68

C i l b illi
o nve rsat o na r ancy, 34 , il
W de , W am, c te , 5 5
C
i lli
i d
Wo man overed Wz thj e wels, The
E t i i ty 38
cc e n r c , B e rnh ar t, d wi
r tte n fo r, 2 2 1
Eg i m 5 5 34 9
o s 38 2 1 - 2, L o ss o f M S o f, 2 2 0-2 2 1
l l l
.
, ,

F o we rs, o ve o f, 2 5 0 -2 5 1 , 2 60 P o t o f, 2 2 2 -2 2 3
G e ne ro s ty, 4 6 , 5 1 i Woman Of N o I mportance, A
H umo ur, 1 7
I maginat ve acu ty, 30 1 i f l
Ci l
h aracte rs o f, 1 2 6 - 1 2 8
D a o gue o f, 1 2 0- 1 2 3
i li
K nd ne ss and ge nt e ne ss, 4 6 l l
P o t o i , 1 2 3- 1 2 5
5 1 , 77 l i
Po pu ar ty o f 1 2 1 - 1 2 3, 1 2 8
i
,

L anguage , fe lic1 ty o f, 2 5 2 , 378 Re ce p t o n o i, 1 1 9

l
L o ya ty to r e n ds, 5 3, 5 5 fi Woman s World, Th e , W e s
’ ’
i ld
l
M o o n i gh t , se ntl me nt fo r 1 68 e dito rsh p o i, 4 2 i
w i i ld f li i i
,

N arro ne ss o f v e w, 38 3 W 01 ds, W e s e c to us ch o ce o f,
’

l
N ature , o ve o f, 2 6 0, 2 7 1 -2 72 2 52
 A Catalo gue o f the
Publicatio ns o f T . We rne r Laurie .

A BB E Y S O F G R EAT B R I TAIN , Th (H Cl i b Di n e . a r o rn e xo

and E R m d n) 6 .
( C th d
a l S i ) s e . 5 . ne t . a e ra e r es .

A BB E Y S O F ENG L AN D Th ( El i M L n g) L th ,
e s e . a . ea e r,

25 6d
.
( L th B
. kl t
net ) . ea er oo e s .

A D A M (H Th St y f C i m
. F ully Illu t t d D my e or o r e . s ra e . e

8vo .6d 1 08 . . ne t .

A DD ISON (JU L IA) C l i M yth i A Illu t t d with 4 , ass c s n rt s ra e 0

plat p du t i n f m fam u p a nt
e re ro C wn 8 c o s ro o s i e rs . ro vo ,

c ol th gilt 6 t 5 ne
A DV EN TU R ES O F AN E M P R ESS ( H l n V a a
.
, .

) 6 e e e c re sco . s .

A F L A L O (F Sun h in a d Sp t i F l ida a d th W t s e n or n or n e es

D my 8 6 t
.

Ind i 6 Illu t at i n
es 0 s r o s . e vo ,
1 s . ne .

A L I EN Th ( H l n V a a
.

, e ) 6 e e e c re sco . s .

ANTHONY (E ) ( C ut Th C mpl t B id g “
e o e e r e

P l ay W ith a C h apt M i y B idg (V l I

.

er . er on se r r e . o . .
,

L ib a y f Sp t ) 3 p ag
r r o C wn 8 6d t
o r s. 20 es . ro vo , 25 . . ne .

A R M O U R (J O G D EN ) Th P a k . a d th P pl E ight e c e rs n e eo e
Illu t at i n 38 P ag
, .

s r o C wn 8 s 6 n t
. 0 es . ro vo , 5 . e .

A R N CL I FF E P U ZZL E Th (G d n H lm ) 6 , e or o o es . 5 .

A R T IN TH E D U MP S ( Eu g n M ill) I S t e e e rr . . ne .

A R TI ST S L I F E Th (J hn Ol iv H bb )
’
6d n t
, e o er o es . 28 . . e .

B EAUTY S HO P Th (D an i l W d ff ) 6 , e e oo ro e . s .

B E CK E N t f m M y S uth S a L g C wn 8 o es l th ro o e o . ro vo , c o

g ilt 6, t 5 ne .

M y W and ing i th S uth S a Illu t at d

.

B E C KE er s n e o e s . s r e .

C wn 8
ro 6 t vo , 5 . ne .

B E CK E S k t h i N m an dy C wn 8 l th 6
e c es n or . ro vo , c o , s .

B E LL AN D A RR O W Th ( N a H pp ) 6 . e or o er , s .

BENN ETT S P h illp tt ee o s .

BIOG R A PH Y F O R BEGINN E R S Th (E C l ih w) 6 , e . er e . 5 .

ne t .

B L A N D ( H u b t) ( H u b t f th S nday Ch i l )
er
“
er o e u ron c e
a D au ght Illu t at d F nt i p i
,

L tt
e t
e rs o C wn er s r e ro s ec e ro
l th 3 6 d n t ; p ap I S n t
. .

8
vo , c o , s . . e e r, . e .
 T . Werner L auri e s C atalogue
’
.

FAI R W O M EN ,
Th e B oo k of (Tra n l at d by El s e s ie M . L an g) .

65 ne t

F INAN C I E R S W I F E Th (F l
. .

’
6 , e o re n W a d n)
ce r e . s .

F IS H E R M AN Th C mpl t (W M G lli h ) 6d, e o e e . . a c an . 25 . . net .

F ISHING F O R PL E A S U R E AN D C AT C HING I T ( E
M t n) C l th 3 6 d
ars o l th 5 . o , 5 . . ne t ; ea e r, 5 . n et .

F R AN C E Th C th d l f N th n (F n i Mil ) 6
, e a e ra s o or er ra c s t o un . 5 .

ne t

F R AN C E Th C th d l f S uth n (F n i Mil ) 6
.

, e a e ra s o o er ra c s t o un . 5 .

net .

F R I EN D S THE F R EN C H M y (R H Sh d) 6 , . . e rar . 1 s . ne t

G AL L I C HAN (W Th C mpl t F i h m n Illu t t d . e o e e s er a . s ra e .

( L ib y f Sp t V
rar l I I ) C w n 8o 6 d o r s, o . . ro vo , 2 3 . . ne t .

GEEN D y St l n f S p t Illu t t d D my 8 a s o e or or . s ra e . e vo ,
1 0s . 6d . ne t.

GI B E R N E (Agn ) R w n a A N v l C es , o e . o e . ro w n 8 vo , 6 s .

GI V EN P R OO F Th (H H P n ) 6 , e . . e ro s e . s .

G L A S S C H INA AN D S I L V E R E ay
, , ,
ss s on ( F ra s n C n n) oe e .

65 ne t
GO L F E R S M A N U A L Th (W M dith Butl ) 6 d n t
. .

’
, e . e re er . 25 . . e .

G R I FF ITH Th M ummy a d M i N it i A N l e n ss o cr s. o ve .

C wn 8
ro 6 vo , s .

G U LL ( R an g ) Th C h ain Inv i ibl er A N v l C wn 8

, e s e . o e . ro vo ,
6
s
G U LL ( R an g ) R t ib ut i n
.

A N v l C wn 8 6
er , e r o . o e . ro vo , s .

HA R D Y ( R E W h at M n L ik in W m n
ev . C wn
. e e o e . ro
8
vo p ap I S t ; l th e r, ne c o 25 .

H AW THO R N E ,
.
,

Th S a l t L tt ( E l t i L ib a y e c re e er . c ec c r r .

V l I ) 3
o p ag C wn 8 l th gilt20 t es ro vo , c o I S ne
H AYN I E
. . . . .
,

Th C apt ain a d t h K in g Int im at R m i e s n e s : e e

i f N t ab il it i
n sc e nce s o 34 8 p ag 8} 5 4 l th gilt o es . es . x
, c o ,

6
5 t ne

H IT C H C O C K (F
. .
J

Th Bu il din g f a B k C wn 8
. e o oo . ro vo ,

65 . t ne .

H O B B E S (J Th A t i t L if a d Oth E ay W ith
. e r s
’
s e, n er ss s
f nt i p i and a v d ign by C h a l E D aw n
.

ro s ec e co er es r es . so .

C wn 8
ro 6d t vo 25 . . ne
H O L M ES (G d n) Th A n l iff P u l A N v l C wn
.
,

or o , e r c e z z e . o e . ro
8vo ’ 6 s
H O PP E R (N a) (M H u gh C h n) Th B ll a d th
.

or rs . e sso ,
e e n e
A w An En gl i h L v St y C wn 8
rro . l th 6 s o e or . ro vo ,
c o ,
s .

HO R A C E Th W k , f (C S m a t ) e 6d t or s o . r . 25 . . ne .
 T . Wem er L aurie s Catalogue
’
.

HO R AN D A Y (W C m p F i i h C n d i n R ki a res n t e a a a oc es .

with 7 illu t t i n f m p h t g ph t k n by J hn M
.

0 s ra o s ro o o ra s a e o .

P h ill ip d w m p D my 8 6 s an t o a s . e vo , 1 s . net .

H O S K EN ( H th ) S S t nt n ea . ee a o .

H U M E (F gu ) L dy Jim f C u n S t t A N v l C v
er s a o rz o re e o e o er
E D w n
.
, .

d ign b y C h l
es C wn 8 l th gilt 6 ar e s . a so . ro vo , c o ,
s
p p a e r, 1 5l th 6d ne t ; c o 1 s. ne t
H U M E ( F gu ) Th C wn d Skull A N v l C wn 8
. .
,
.

er s , e ro e . o e . ro v0 ,
6 s .

H U M E ( F gu ) Th P th f P in A N v l C wn 8 6
er s , e a o a . o e . ro vo , 5 .

HUN EK E R M l m ni W gn I b n C h p in e o a ac s : a e r, se , o ,

Ni t h e z sc C wn 8 6 e, e tc . ro v0 , 5 . n et .

HUN EKE R (L) I n l t A B k f D m t i t Illu , co o c as s : oo o ra a s s .

t i al tu di
m in at ing f m d n c ri c s es o o er re v lut i n a y pl ay
o o r

ht C wn 8 6
wrig s t ro vo , 5 . ne
H UN E KE R
. .

V i i n a i C wn 8 s o r es . ro vo , 6s .

H UNT (V i l t) Th W k ad ay W m an
o e , e or o . A No vl e . C ro wn
8 vo , 6 s .

HU S A B N D H UNTE R Th (Oliv i , e a R o y) 6 5
I C ONO CL AST S (J m H un k )
. .

a es e er 6 5 ne t
IN D IA ( P i
. . .

L t i) 6d e rre o . 1 05 n et
y App
. . .

ING L E BY ( L O W ild sc ar e : A L it e rar re c ia ti no

D my 8
. .

e 6d vo , 1 25 . net
R g D in wid di S ul D t
. .

I R V IN E (A . A N v l o er e, o oc or . o e .

C wn 8 ro 6 vo s .

ITA L Y Th C ath d al f N th n (T F an i Bumpu )

,

, e e r s o or er . r c s s .

6 1 t 5 . ne .

JA PP ( A R L St v n n A R d a E t im at a d e e so : eco r n s e, n
a M m
. . .
,

ial Illu t at d with fa im il l tt a d ph t

e or . s r e cs e e e rs n o o

g a vu r f nt i p i re C w n 8 ro l th g ilt 6 t
s ece . ro vo , c o ,
5 . ne .

JOH N B U LL AN D JONAT H AN W ith (J hn M gan , o or

R i ha d ) 6c rt s 1 s ne .

H F
. .

JO N JOHNS T h A dv ntu s f ( d ,
i C a l ) 6 d e e re o re er c rre . 25 . .

net
P
.

JOHNSON (T n h h a a d N a m
re Th i c O i g in r se s n es : e r r s
a d M anin g
n C wn 8
e l th gilt 6 s t ro vo , c o 5 . ne .

D L p
.
,

JUNG L E T R AI L S AN JUNG L E P E O P E ( C a a W h it s r

y)
ne t . 1 25 ne .

K E NN A R D ( H R u ian P a ant
.

Th .
9 illu t at i n e ss e s . 1 s r o s .

C wn 8 ro l th gilt 6 tvo , c o ,
5 . ne .

K ING S W I F E Th ( H l n V a a
’
) 6 e e e e c re sc o 5

K U R O P ATK IN Th C am p aign with (D u gl a St y)

. .
,

, e o s or .

1 05 . 6d . n et .
 T . Werner L auri e
’
s C atalogue .

L A D Y JI M O F C U R ZO N ST R E ET ( F gu Hum ) C l th er s e . o
p ap l th
,

6 5 t 6d e r, 1 5 ne c o 15

L A D Y L EE (F l n W a d n ) 6
. . . . .
,

o re ce r e s
L A NG (E
. .

L it a y L n d n 4 illu t at i n
. C w er r o o . 2 s r o s . ro n
8 l th gilt 6
V 0, c o t 5 ne
L A NG ( E B k f F ai W m n B y F d ig
. .
,

Th e oo o r o e e er o

T an l at d f m th V n t ian d t i n
. .

L u igin f U din o o e r s e ro e e e e i o

f 5 5 4 W ith 6 p i tu
.

o 1 F l ap 8
. h and m ad p ap c re s . o o sc vo , -
e e r,
p a hm nt b in ding 6 n t
rc e . 5 e .

L A NG ( E
.

Th A bb y
. f En gl an d ( Th L a th B k e e s o . e e er oo

l t V l V ) Illu t at d 5 3 t am p d l ath
e s, o . . s r e . x
, s e e e r,
2 5 6d t . ne
L AST E MP R ESS O F TH E F R EN C H Th (P W S
. .

, e . . er

g ant )
e 6d t 1 25 ne
L AST M I R A CL E Th (M P Sh i l) 6
. . . .

e . . e . s .

L ATH R O P ( E ) W h
,

Sh ak p a S t Hi St ag W ith e re es e re e s e
num u full p ag illu t at i n D my 8
.
,

e ro s l th 8 6 0 -
e s r o s . e vo , c o , 5 . .

ne t .

L EATH E R BOOK L ETS Th 5 3 t amp d l ath 6d , e . x , s e e e r, 25 . .

ne t a h e c
V l I Th P
.

o k t C ath d al Gu id By W J R b t
. . e oc e e r e . . . o er s .

3 0illu t at i n s r o s .

V l II S m o O ld Inn
. f En gl and .By G T B o e s o . . . ur
ro w s 4 i11ust rat io ns
. 2 .

V ol Th e . as e s o f III g a d B y .E B d
’
Au C tl En l n . . .

v e rg e n
th Illu t t n
W i 30 s ra io s
. .

V olIV S m o L nd n M m l
e . O ld o o e o ria s
. By W J . . .

R t
o be r s th ph t
Wi 25 ph o o grauth
. s b y th e a or .

V ol V A by En l nd
Th e b e s o f
. Elg a L n
.B y s ie M a g 2 0 . . .

illu t t i n
s ra o s

L ETHB R I D GE O F TH E M O O R ( M au i D ak ) 6
.

r ce r e s
L ETTE R S TO A D AUGHTE R ( H u b t Bl an d) 3 6 d t ;
. .

er s ne
p ap
. . .

te r, 1 5 ne
L I F E IN TH E L AW (J hn G g W itt) 6
. .

t o eo r e . 5 . ne .

L I F E S S H O P W IN D O W (V i t i C ) 6
’
c or a ro ss . 5 .

L IN D SAY S L O V E A (C h a l L w ) 6 ’
,
r es o e . s .

L ITE R A R Y L ON D O N ( El i M L an g) 6 t s e . . 5 . ne .

L OTI ( P i ) In dia D my 8 e rre 6d t , . e vo ,

1 05 . . ne .

L OTUS L A N D (P A Th mp n ) 6 t . . o so . 1 5 . ne .

L O V E R O F Q U E EN E L I ZAB ETH Th (Au b y R i h a d , e re c r

so n )
. 1 25 . 6d . net .

LOW E A L in d ay s
’
s Lo v e A Ta e o f t h e l Tuil i e r es an d
P
.

th e Si e ge o f aris . AN vl o e . C ro w 8 vo , c n l th gilt
o ,
6s .