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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Hollis Ramsey <holliser@ev1.net> + + + + + +Oscar Wilde, His Life and Confessions, Volume 1 + +by Frank Harris + + + + +CONTENTS + + +VOLUME I + +Introduction + +Chapter I--Oscar's Father and Mother on Trial + +Chapter II--Oscar Wilde as a Schoolboy + +Chapter III--Trinity, Dublin: Magdalen, Oxford + +Chapter IV--Formative Influences: Oscar's Poems + +Chapter V--Oscar's Quarrel with Whistler and Marriage + +Chapter VI--Oscar Wilde's Faith and Practice + +Chapter VII--Oscar's Reputation and Supporters + +Chapter VIII--Oscar's Growth to Originality About 1890 + +Chapter IX--The Summer of Success: Oscar's First Play + +Chapter X--The First Meeting with Lord Alfred Douglas + +Chapter XI--The Threatening Cloud Draws Nearer + +Chapter XII--Danger Signals: the Challenge + +Chapter XIII--Oscar Attacks Queensberry and is Worsted + +Chapter XIV--How Genius is Persecuted in England + +Chapter XV--The Queen vs. Wilde: The First Trial + +Chapter XVI--Escape Rejected: The Second Trial and Sentence + + +VOLUME II + +Chapter XVII--Prison and the Effects of Punishment + +Chapter XVIII--Mitigation of Punishment; but not Release + +Chapter XIX--His St. Martin's Summer: His Best Work + +Chapter XX--The Results of His Second Fall: His Genius + +Chapter XXI--His Sense of Rivalry; His Love of Life and Laziness + +Chapter XXII--"A Great Romantic Passion!" + +Chapter XXIII--His Judgments of Writers and of Women + +Chapter XXIV--We Argue About His "Pet Vice" and Punishment + +Chapter XXV--The Last Hope Lost + +Chapter XXVI--The End + +Chapter XXVII--A Last Word + +Shaw's "Memories" + +The Appendix + + + + +The crucifixion of the guilty is still more awe-inspiring than the crucifixion +of the innocent; what do we men know of innocence? + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + +I was advised on all hands not to write this book, and some English friends +who have read it urge me not to publish it. + +"You will be accused of selecting the subject," they say, "because sexual +viciousness appeals to you, and your method of treatment lays you open +to attack. + +"You criticise and condemn the English conception of justice, and English +legal methods: you even question the impartiality of English judges, and throw +an unpleasant light on English juries and the English public--all of which is +not only unpopular but will convince the unthinking that you are a presumptuous, +or at least an outlandish, person with too good a conceit of himself and +altogether too free a tongue." + +I should be more than human or less if these arguments did not give me pause. +I would do nothing willingly to alienate the few who are still friendly to me. +But the motives driving me are too strong for such personal considerations. +I might say with the Latin: + +"Non me tua fervida terrent, +Dicta, ferox: Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis." + +Even this would be only a part of the truth. Youth it seems to me should always +be prudent, for youth has much to lose: but I am come to that time of life when +a man can afford to be bold, may even dare to be himself and write the best +in him, heedless of knaves and fools or of anything this world may do. The +voyage for me is almost over: I am in sight of port: like a good shipman, I have +already sent down the lofty spars and housed the captious canvas in preparation +for the long anchorage: I have little now to fear. + +And the immortals are with me in my design. Greek tragedy treated of far more +horrible and revolting themes, such as the banquet of Thyestes: and Dante did +not shrink from describing the unnatural meal of Ugolino. The best modern +critics approve my choice. "All depends on the subject," says Matthew Arnold, +talking of great literature: "choose a fitting action--a great and significant +action--penetrate yourself with the feeling of the situation: this done, +everything else will follow; for expression is subordinate and secondary." + +Socrates was found guilty of corrupting the young and was put to death for +the offence. His accusation and punishment constitute surely a great and +significant action such as Matthew Arnold declared was alone of the highest +and most permanent literary value. + +The action involved in the rise and ruin of Oscar Wilde is of the same kind +and of enduring interest to humanity. Critics may say that Wilde is a smaller +person than Socrates, less significant in many ways: but even if this were true, +it would not alter the artist's position; the great portraits of the world are +not of Napoleon or Dante. The differences between men are not important in +comparison with their inherent likeness. To depict the mortal so that he takes +on immortality--that is the task of the artist. + +There are special reasons, too, why I should handle this story. Oscar Wilde +was a friend of mine for many years: I could not help prizing him to the very +end: he was always to me a charming, soul-animating influence. He was +dreadfully punished by men utterly his inferiors: ruined, outlawed, persecuted +till Death itself came as a deliverance. His sentence impeaches his judges. +The whole story is charged with tragic pathos and unforgettable lessons. I have +waited for more than ten years hoping that some one would write about him in +this spirit and leave me free to do other things, but nothing such as I propose +has yet appeared. + +Oscar Wilde was greater as a talker, in my opinion, than as a writer, and no +fame is more quickly evanescent. If I do not tell his story and paint his +portrait, it seems unlikely that anyone else will do it. + +English "strachery" may accuse me of attacking morality: the accusation +is worse than absurd. The very foundations of this old world are moral: the +charred ember itself floats about in space, moves and has its being in obedience +to inexorable law. The thinker may define morality: the reformer may try to +bring our notions of it into nearer accord with the fact: human love and pity +may seek to soften its occasional injustices and mitigate its intolerable +harshness: but that is all the freedom we mortals enjoy, all the breathing-space +allotted to us. + +In this book the reader will find the figure of the Prometheus-artist clamped, +so to speak, with bands of steel to the huge granitic cliff of English +puritanism. No account was taken of his manifold virtues and graces: no credit +given him for his extraordinary achievements: he was hounded out of life because +his sins were not the sins of the English middle-class. The culprit was in much +nobler and better than his judges. + +Here are all the elements of pity and sorrow and fear that are required in +great tragedy. + +The artist who finds in Oscar Wilde a great and provocative subject for his +art needs no argument to justify his choice. If the picture is a great and +living portrait, the moralist will be satisfied: the dark shadows must all be +there, as well as the high lights, and the effect must be to increase our +tolerance and intensify our pity. + +If on the other hand the portrait is ill-drawn or ill-painted, all the reasoning +in the world and the praise of all the sycophants will not save the picture +from contempt and the artist from censure. + +There is one measure by which intention as apart from accomplishment can be +judged, and one only: "If you think the book well done," says Pascal, +"and on re-reading find it strong; be assured that the man who wrote it, +wrote it on his knees." No book could have been written more reverently +than this book of mine. + +Nice, 1910. + +Frank Harris. + + + + +CHAPTER I--OSCAR'S FATHER AND MOTHER ON TRIAL + + + +On the 12th of December, 1864, Dublin society was abuzz with excitement. A +tidbit of scandal which had long been rolled on the tongue in semi-privacy was +to be discussed in open court, and all women and a good many men were agog with +curiosity and expectation. + +The story itself was highly spiced and all the actors in it well known. + +A famous doctor and oculist, recently knighted for his achievements, was the +real defendant. He was married to a woman with a great literary reputation as +a poet and writer who was idolized by the populace for her passionate advocacy +of Ireland's claim to self-government; "Speranza" was regarded by the Irish +people as a sort of Irish Muse. + +The young lady bringing the action was the daughter of the professor of medical +jurisprudence at Trinity College, who was also the chief at Marsh's library. + +It was said that this Miss Travers, a pretty girl just out of her teens, had +been seduced by Dr. Sir William Wilde while under his care as a patient. +Some went so far as to say that chloroform had been used, and that the girl +had been violated. + +The doctor was represented as a sort of Minotaur: lustful stories were invented +and repeated with breathless delight; on all faces, the joy of malicious +curiosity and envious denigration. + +The interest taken in the case was extraordinary: the excitement beyond +comparison; the first talents of the Bar were engaged on both sides; Serjeant +Armstrong led for the plaintiff, helped by the famous Mr. Butt, Q.C., and +Mr. Heron, Q.C., who were in turn backed by Mr. Hamill and Mr. Quinn; while +Serjeant Sullivan was for the defendant, supported by Mr. Sidney, Q.C., and +Mr. Morris, Q.C., and aided by Mr. John Curran and Mr. Purcell. + +The Court of Common Pleas was the stage; Chief Justice Monahan presiding with +a special jury. The trial was expected to last a week, and not only the Court +but the approaches to it were crowded. + +To judge by the scandalous reports, the case should have been a criminal case, +should have been conducted by the Attorney-General against Sir William Wilde; +but that was not the way it presented itself. The action was not even brought +directly by Miss Travers or by her father, Dr. Travers, against Sir William +Wilde for rape or criminal assault, or seduction. It was a civil action brought +by Miss Travers, who claimed L2,000 damages for a libel written by Lady +Wilde to her father, Dr. Travers. The letter complained of ran as follows:-- + +Tower, Bray, May 6th. + +Sir, you may not be aware of the disreputable conduct of your daughter at Bray +where she consorts with all the low newspaper boys in the place, employing them +to disseminate offensive placards in which my name is given, and also tracts +in which she makes it appear that she has had an intrigue with Sir William +Wilde. If she chooses to disgrace herself, it is not my affair, but as her +object in insulting me is in the hope of extorting money for which she has +several times applied to Sir William Wilde with threats of more annoyance if +not given, I think it right to inform you, as no threat of additional insult +shall ever extort money from our hands. The wages of disgrace she has so basely +treated for and demanded shall never be given her. + +Jane F. Wilde. + +To Dr. Travers. + +The summons and plaint charged that this letter written to the father of the +plaintiff by Lady Wilde was a libel reflecting on the character and chastity +of Miss Travers, and as Lady Wilde was a married woman, her husband Sir William +Wilde was joined in the action as a co-defendant for conformity. + +The defences set up were:-- + +First, a plea of "No libel": secondly, that the letter did not bear the +defamatory sense imputed by the plaint: thirdly, a denial of the publication, +and, fourthly, a plea of privilege. This last was evidently the real defence +and was grounded upon facts which afforded some justification of Lady Wilde's +bitter letter. + +It was admitted that for a year or more Miss Travers had done her uttermost +to annoy both Sir William Wilde and his wife in every possible way. The trouble +began, the defence stated, by Miss Travers fancying that she was slighted by +Lady Wilde. She thereupon published a scandalous pamphlet under the title of +"Florence Boyle Price, a Warning; by Speranza," with the evident intention +of causing the public to believe that the booklet was the composition of +Lady Wilde under the assumed name of Florence Boyle Price. In this pamphlet +Miss Travers asserted that a person she called Dr. Quilp had made an attempt +on her virtue. She put the charge mildly. "It is sad," she wrote, "to think +that in the nineteenth century a lady must not venture into a physician's +study without being accompanied by a bodyguard to protect her." + +Miss Travers admitted that Dr. Quilp was intended for Sir William Wilde; indeed +she identified Dr. Quilp with the newly made knight in a dozen different ways. +She went so far as to describe his appearance. She declared that he had "an +animal, sinister expression about his mouth which was coarse and vulgar in the +extreme: the large protruding under lip was most unpleasant. Nor did the upper +part of his face redeem the lower part. His eyes were small and round, mean +and prying in expression. There was no candour in the doctor's countenance, +where one looked for candour." Dr. Quilp's quarrel with his victim, it +appeared, was that she was "unnaturally passionless." + +The publication of such a pamphlet was calculated to injure both Sir William +and Lady Wilde in public esteem, and Miss Travers was not content to let the +matter rest there. She drew attention to the pamphlet by letters to the papers, +and on one occasion, when Sir William Wilde was giving a lecture to the Young +Men's Christian Association at the Metropolitan Hall, she caused large placards +to be exhibited in the neighbourhood having upon them in large letters the words +"Sir William Wilde and Speranza." She employed one of the persons bearing a +placard to go about ringing a large hand bell which she, herself, had given to +him for the purpose. She even published doggerel verses in the "Dublin Weekly +Advertiser", and signed them "Speranza," which annoyed Lady Wilde intensely. +One read thus:-- + +Your progeny is quite a pest +To those who hate such "critters"; +Some sport I'll have, or I'm blest +I'll fry the Wilde breed in the West +Then you can call them Fritters. + +She wrote letters to "Saunders Newsletter", and even reviewed a book of +Lady Wilde's entitled "The First Temptation," and called it a "blasphemous +production." Moreover, when Lady Wilde was staying at Bray, Miss Travers sent +boys to offer the pamphlet for sale to the servants in her house. In fine +Miss Travers showed a keen feminine ingenuity and pertinacity in persecution +worthy of a nobler motive. + +But the defence did not rely on such annoyance as sufficient provocation for +Lady Wilde's libellous letter. The plea went on to state that Miss Travers +had applied to Sir William Wilde for money again and again, and accompanied +these applications with threats of worse pen-pricks if the requests were not +acceded to. It was under these circumstances, according to Lady Wilde, that +she wrote the letter complained of to Dr. Travers and enclosed it in a sealed +envelope. She wished to get Dr. Travers to use his parental influence to +stop Miss Travers from further disgracing herself and insulting and annoying +Sir William and Lady Wilde. + +The defence carried the war into the enemy's camp by thus suggesting that Miss +Travers was blackmailing Sir William and Lady Wilde. + +The attack in the hands of Serjeant Armstrong was still more deadly and +convincing. He rose early on the Monday afternoon and declared at the beginning +that the case was so painful at the beginning that he would have preferred not +to have been engaged in it--a hypocritical statement which deceived no one, and +was just as conventional-false as his wig. But with this exception the story he +told was extraordinarily clear and gripping. + +Some ten years before, Miss Travers, then a young girl of nineteen, was +suffering from partial deafness, and was recommended by her own doctor to go to +Dr. Wilde, who was the chief oculist and aurist in Dublin. Miss Travers went +to Dr. Wilde, who treated her successfully. Dr. Wilde would accept no fees from +her, stating at the outset that as she was the daughter of a brother-physician, +he thought it an honour to be of use to her. Serjeant Armstrong assured his +hearers that in spite of Miss Travers' beauty he believed that at first Dr. +Wilde took nothing but a benevolent interest in the girl. Even when his +professional services ceased to be necessary, Dr. Wilde continued his +friendship. He wrote Miss Travers innumerable letters: he advised her as to +her reading and sent her books and tickets for places of amusement: he even +insisted that she should be better dressed, and pressed money upon her to buy +bonnets and clothes and frequently invited her to his house for dinners and +parties. The friendship went on in this sentimental kindly way for some five +or six years till 1860. + +The wily Serjeant knew enough about human nature to feel that it was necessary +to discover some dramatic incident to change benevolent sympathy into passion, +and he certainly found what he wanted. + +Miss Travers, it appeared, had been burnt low down on her neck when a child: +the cicatrice could still be seen, though it was gradually disappearing. When +her ears were being examined by Dr. Wilde, it was customary for her to kneel +on a hassock before him, and he thus discovered this burn on her neck. After +her hearing improved he still continued to examine the cicatrice from time to +time, pretending to note the speed with which it was disappearing. Some time +in '60 or '61 Miss Travers had a corn on the sole of her foot which gave her +some pain. Dr. Wilde did her the honour of paring the corn with his own hands +and painting it with iodine. The cunning Serjeant could not help saying with +some confusion, natural or assumed, "that it would have been just as well--at +least there are men of such temperament that it would be dangerous to have such +a manipulation going on." The spectators in the court smiled, feeling that +in "manipulation" the Serjeant had found the most neatly suggestive word. + +Naturally at this point Serjeant Sullivan interfered in order to stem the rising +tide of interest and to blunt the point of the accusation. Sir William Wilde, +he said, was not the man to shrink from any investigation: but he was only in +the case formally and he could not meet the allegations, which therefore were +"one-sided and unfair" and so forth and so on. + +After the necessary pause, Serjeant Armstrong plucked his wig straight and +proceeded to read letters of Dr. Wilde to Miss Travers at this time, in which +he tells her not to put too much iodine on her foot, but to rest it for a few +days in a slipper and keep it in a horizontal position while reading a pleasant +book. If she would send in, he would try and send her one. + +"I have now," concluded the Serjeant, like an actor carefully preparing +his effect, "traced this friendly intimacy down to a point where it begins +to be dangerous: I do not wish to aggravate the gravity of the charge in the +slightest by any rhetoric or by an unconscious overstatement; you shall +therefore, gentlemen of the jury, hear from Miss Travers herself what took +place between her and Dr. Wilde and what she complains of." + +Miss Travers then went into the witness-box. Though thin and past her first +youth, she was still pretty in a conventional way, with regular features and +dark eyes. She was examined by Mr. Butt, Q.C. After confirming point by point +what Serjeant Armstrong had said, she went on to tell the jury that in the +summer of '62 she had thought of going to Australia, where her two brothers +lived, who wanted her to come out to them. Dr. Wilde lent her L40 to go, +but told her she must say it was L20 or her father might think the sum too +large. She missed the ship in London and came back. She was anxious to impress +on the jury the fact that she had repaid Dr. Wilde, that she had always repaid +whatever he had lent her. + +She went on to relate how one day Dr. Wilde had got her in a kneeling position +at his feet, when he took her in his arms, declaring that he would not let her +go until she called him William. Miss Travers refused to do this, and took +umbrage at the embracing and ceased to visit at his house: but Dr. Wilde +protested extravagantly that he had meant nothing wrong, and begged her to +forgive him and gradually brought about a reconciliation which was consummated +by pressing invitations to parties and by a loan of two or three pounds for a +dress, which loan, like the others, had been carefully repaid. + +The excitement in the court was becoming breathless. It was felt that the +details were cumulative; the doctor was besieging the fortress in proper form. +The story of embracings, reconciliations and loans all prepared the public for +the great scene. + +The girl went on, now answering questions, now telling bits of the story in +her own way, Mr. Butt, the great advocate, taking care that it should all be +consecutive and clear with a due crescendo of interest. In October, 1862, it +appeared Lady Wilde was not in the house at Merrion Square, but was away at +Bray, as one of the children had not been well, and she thought the sea air +would benefit him. Dr. Wilde was alone in the house. Miss Travers called and +was admitted into Dr. Wilde's study. He put her on her knees before him and +bared her neck, pretending to examine the burn; he fondled her too much and +pressed her to him: she took offence and tried to draw away. Somehow or other +his hand got entangled in a chain at her neck. She called out to him, "You are +suffocating me," and tried to rise: but he cried out like a madman: "I will, +I want to," and pressed what seemed to be a handkerchief over her face. +She declared that she lost consciousness. + +When she came to herself she found Dr. Wilde frantically imploring her to come +to her senses, while dabbing water on her face, and offering her wine to drink. + +"If you don't drink," he cried, "I'll pour it over you." + +For some time, she said, she scarcely realized where she was or what had +occurred, though she heard him talking. But gradually consciousness came back +to her, and though she would not open her eyes she understood what he was +saying. He talked frantically: + +"Do be reasonable, and all will be right. . . I am in your power . . . . spare +me, oh, spare me . . . . strike me if you like. I wish to God I could hate you, +but I can't. I swore I would never touch your hand again. Attend to me and do +what I tell you. Have faith and confidence in me and you may remedy the past +and go to Australia. Think of the talk this may give rise to. Keep up +appearances for your own sake. . . . ." + +He then took her up-stairs to a bedroom and made her drink some wine and lie +down for some time. She afterwards left the house; she hardly knew how; he +accompanied her to the door, she thought; but could not be certain; she was +half dazed. + +The judge here interposed with the crucial question: + +"Did you know that you had been violated?" + +The audience waited breathlessly; after a short pause Miss Travers replied: + +"Yes." + +Then it was true, the worst was true. The audience, excited to the highest +pitch, caught breath with malevolent delight. But the thrills were not +exhausted. Miss Travers next told how in Dr. Wilde's study one evening she had +been vexed at some slight, and at once took four pennyworth of laudanum which +she had bought. Dr. Wilde hurried her round to the house of Dr. Walsh, a +physician in the neighbourhood, who gave her an antidote. Dr. Wilde was +dreadfully frightened lest something should get out. . . . + +She admitted at once that she had sometimes asked Dr. Wilde for money: she +thought nothing of it as she had again and again repaid him the monies which +he had lent her. + +Miss Travers' examination in chief had been intensely interesting. The +fashionable ladies had heard all they had hoped to hear, and it was noticed that +they were not so eager to get seats in the court from this time on, though the +room was still crowded. + +The cross-examination of Miss Travers was at least as interesting to the student +of human nature as the examination in chief had been, for in her story of what +took place on that 14th of October, weaknesses and discrepancies of memory were +discovered and at length improbabilities and contradictions in the narrative +itself. + +First of all it was elicited that she could not be certain of the day; it might +have been the 15th or the 16th: it was Friday the 14th, she thought. . . . It +was a great event to her; the most awful event in her whole life; yet she could +not remember the day for certain. + +"Did you tell anyone of what had taken place?" + +"No." + +"Not even your father?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"I did not wish to give him pain." + +"But you went back to Dr. Wilde's study after the awful assault?" + +"Yes." + +"You went again and again, did you not?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he ever attempt to repeat the offence?" + +"Yes." + +The audience was thunderstruck; the plot was deepening. Miss Travers went on +to say that the Doctor was rude to her again; she did not know his intention; +he took hold of her and tried to fondle her; but she would not have it. + +"After the second offence you went back?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he ever repeat it again?" + +"Yes." + +Miss Travers said that once again Dr. Wilde had been rude to her. + +"Yet you returned again?" + +"Yes." + +"And you took money from this man who had violated you against your will?" + +"Yes." + +"You asked him for money?" + +"Yes." + +"This is the first time you have told about this second and third assault, +is it not?" + +"Yes," the witness admitted. + +So far all that Miss Travers had said hung together and seemed eminently +credible; but when she was questioned about the chloroform and the handkerchief +she became confused. At the outset she admitted that the handkerchief might +have been a rag. She was not certain it was a rag. It was something she saw +the doctor throw into the fire when she came to her senses. + +"Had he kept it in his hands, then, all the time you were unconscious?" + +"I don't know." + +"Just to show it to you?" + +The witness was silent. + +When she was examined as to her knowledge of chloroform, she broke down +hopelessly. She did not know the smell of it; could not describe it; did not +know whether it burnt or not; could not in fact swear that it was chloroform +Dr. Wilde had used; would not swear that it was anything; believed that it was +chloroform or something like it because she lost consciousness. That was her +only reason for saying that chloroform had been given to her. + +Again the judge interposed with the probing question: + +"Did you say anything about chloroform in your pamphlet?" + +"No," the witness murmured. + +It was manifest that the strong current of feeling in favour of Miss Travers +had begun to ebb. The story was a toothsome morsel still: but it was +regretfully admitted that the charge of rape had not been pushed home. It was +felt to be disappointing, too, that the chief prosecuting witness should have +damaged her own case. + +It was now the turn of the defence, and some thought the pendulum might swing +back again. + +Lady Wilde gave her evidence emphatically, but was too bitter to be a persuasive +witness. It was tried to prove from her letter that she believed that Miss +Travers had had an intrigue with Sir William Wilde, but she would not have it. +She did not for a moment believe in her husband's guilt. Miss Travers wished to +make it appear, she said, that she had an intrigue with Sir William Wilde, but +in her opinion it was utterly untrue. Sir William Wilde was above suspicion. +There was not a particle of truth in the accusation; "her" husband would never +so demean himself. + +Lady Wilde's disdainful speeches seemed to persuade the populace, but had small +effect on the jury, and still less on the judge. + +When she was asked if she hated Miss Travers, she replied that she did not +hate anyone, but she had to admit that she disliked Miss Travers' methods of +action. + +"Why did you not answer Miss Travers when she wrote telling you of your +husband's attempt on her virtue?" + +"I took no interest in the matter," was the astounding reply. + +The defence made an even worse mistake than this. When the time came, +Sir William Wilde was not called. + +In his speech for Miss Travers, Mr. Butt made the most of this omission. He +declared that the refusal of Sir William Wilde to go into the witness box was +an admission of guilt; an admission that Miss Travers' story of her betrayal +was true and could not be contradicted. But the refusal of Sir William Wilde +to go into the box was not, he insisted, the worst point in the defence. He +reminded the jury that he had asked Lady Wilde why she had not answered Miss +Travers when she wrote to her. He recalled Lady Wilde's reply: + +"I took no interest in the matter." + +Every woman would be interested in such a thing, he declared, even a stranger; +but Lady Wilde hated her husband's victim and took no interest in her seduction +beyond writing a bitter, vindictive and libellous letter to the girl's father. +. . . . + +The speech was regarded as a masterpiece and enhanced the already great +reputation of the man who was afterwards to become the Home Rule Leader. + +It only remained for the judge to sum up, for everyone was getting impatient +to hear the verdict. Chief Justice Monahan made a short, impartial speech, +throwing the dry, white light of truth upon the conflicting and passionate +statements. First of all, he said, it was difficult to believe in the story +of rape whether with or without chloroform. If the girl had been violated she +would be expected to cry out at the time, or at least to complain to her father +as soon as she reached home. Had it been a criminal trial, he pointed out, +no one would have believed this part of Miss Travers' story. When you find +a girl does not cry out at the time and does not complain afterwards, and +returns to the house to meet further rudeness, it must be presumed that she +consented to the seduction. + +But was there a seduction? The girl asserted that there was guilty intimacy, +and Sir William Wilde had not contradicted her. It was said that he was only +formally a defendant; but he was the real defendant and he could have gone +into the box if he had liked and given his version of what took place and +contradicted Miss Travers in whole or in part. + +"It is for you, gentlemen of the jury, to draw your own conclusions from +his omission to do what one would have thought would be an honourable man's +first impulse and duty." + +Finally it was for the jury to consider whether the letter was a libel and +if so what the amount of damages should be. + +His Lordship recalled the jury at Mr. Butt's request to say that in assessing +damages they might also take into consideration the fact that the defence was +practically a justification of the libel. The fair-mindedness of the judge was +conspicuous from first to last, and was worthy of the high traditions of the +Irish Bench. + +After deliberating for a couple of hours the jury brought in a verdict which +had a certain humour in it. They awarded to Miss Travers a farthing damages +and intimated that the farthing should carry costs. In other words they rated +Miss Travers' virtue at the very lowest coin of the realm, while insisting that +Sir William Wilde should pay a couple of thousands of pounds in costs for having +seduced her. + +It was generally felt that the verdict did substantial justice; though the +jury, led away by patriotic sympathy with Lady Wilde, the true "Speranza," +had been a little hard on Miss Travers. No one doubted that Sir William Wilde +had seduced his patient. He had, it appeared, an unholy reputation, and the +girl's admission that he had accused her of being "unnaturally passionless" +was accepted as the true key of the enigma. This was why he had drawn away from +the girl, after seducing her. And it was not unnatural under the circumstances +that she should become vindictive and revengeful. + +Such inferences as these, I drew from the comments of the Irish papers at the +time; but naturally I wished if possible to hear some trustworthy contemporary +on the matter. Fortunately such testimony was forthcoming. + +A Fellow of Trinity, who was then a young man, embodied the best opinion of +the time in an excellent pithy letter. He wrote to me that the trial simply +established, what every one believed, that "Sir William Wilde was a pithecoid +person of extraordinary sensuality and cowardice (funking the witness-box left +him without a defender!) and that his wife was a highfalutin' pretentious +creature whose pride was as extravagant as her reputation founded on second-rate +verse-making. . . . . Even when a young woman she used to keep her rooms in +Merrion Square in semi-darkness; she laid the paint on too thick for any +ordinary light, and she gave herself besides all manner of airs." + +This incisive judgment of an able and fairly impartial contemporary (As he has +died since this was written, there is no longer any reason for concealing his +name: R. Y. Tyrrell, for many years before his death Regius Professor of Greek +in Trinity College, Dublin.) corroborates, I think, the inferences which one +would naturally draw from the newspaper accounts of the trial. It seems to me +that both combine to give a realistic photograph, so to speak, of Sir William +and Lady Wilde. An artist, however, would lean to a more kindly picture. +Trying to see the personages as they saw themselves he would balance the +doctor's excessive sensuality and lack of self-control by dwelling on the fact +that his energy and perseverance and intimate adaptation to his surroundings +had brought him in middle age to the chief place in his profession, and if +Lady Wilde was abnormally vain, a verse-maker and not a poet, she was still +a talented woman of considerable reading and manifold artistic sympathies. + +Such were the father and mother of Oscar Wilde. + + + + +CHAPTER II--OSCAR WILDE AS A SCHOOLBOY + + + +The Wildes had three children, two sons and a daughter. The first son was born +in 1852, a year after the marriage, and was christened after his father William +Charles Kingsbury Wills. The second son was born two years later, in 1854 and +the names given to him seem to reveal the Nationalist sympathies and pride of +his mother. He was christened Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde; but he +appears to have suffered from the pompous string only in extreme youth. At +school he concealed the "Fingal," as a young man he found it advisable to omit +the "O'Flahertie." + +In childhood and early boyhood Oscar was not considered as quick or engaging +or handsome as his brother, Willie. Both boys had the benefit of the best +schooling of the time. They were sent as boarders to the Portora School at +Enniskillen, one of the four Royal schools of Ireland. Oscar went to Portora in +1864 at the age of nine, a couple of years after his brother. He remained at +the school for seven years and left it on winning an Exhibition for Trinity +College, Dublin, when he was just seventeen. + +The facts hitherto collected and published about Oscar as a schoolboy are sadly +meagre and insignificant. Fortunately for my readers I have received from Sir +Edward Sullivan, who was a contemporary of Oscar both at school and college, +an exceedingly vivid and interesting pen-picture of the lad, one of those +astounding masterpieces of portraiture only to be produced by the plastic +sympathies of boyhood and the intimate intercourse of years lived in common. +It is love alone which in later life can achieve such a miracle of +representment. I am very glad to be allowed to publish this realistic +miniature, in the very words of the author. + +"I first met Oscar Wilde in the early part of 1868 at Portora Royal School. +He was thirteen or fourteen years of age. His long straight fair hair was a +striking feature of his appearance. He was then, as he remained for some years +after, extremely boyish in nature, very mobile, almost restless when out of +the schoolroom. Yet he took no part in the school games at any time. Now and +then he would be seen in one of the school boats on Loch Erne: yet he was a +poor hand at an oar. + +"Even as a schoolboy he was an excellent talker: his descriptive power +being far above the average, and his humorous exaggerations of school +occurrences always highly amusing. + +"A favourite place for the boys to sit and gossip in the late afternoon +in winter time was round a stove which stood in 'The Stone Hall.' Here Oscar +was at his best; although his brother Willie was perhaps in those days even +better than he was at telling a story. + +"Oscar would frequently vary the entertainment by giving us extremely quaint +illustrations of holy people in stained-glass attitudes: his power of twisting +his limbs into weird contortions being very great. (I am told that Sir William +Wilde, his father, possessed the same power.) It must not be thought, however, +that there was any suggestion of irreverence in the exhibition. + +"At one of these gatherings, about the year 1870, I remember a discussion +taking place about an ecclesiastical prosecution that made a considerable stir +at the time. Oscar was present, and full of the mysterious nature of the Court +of Arches; he told us there was nothing he would like better in after life than +to be the hero of such a "cause celebre" and to go down to posterity as the +defendant in such a case as 'Regina versus Wilde!' + +"At school he was almost always called 'Oscar'--but he had a nick-name, +'Grey-crow,' which the boys would call him when they wished to annoy him, and +which he resented greatly. It was derived in some mysterious way from the name +of an island in the Upper Loch Erne, within easy reach of the school by boat. + +"It was some little time before he left Portora that the boys got to know of his +full name, Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. Just at the close of his +school career he won the 'Carpenter' Greek Testament Prize,--and on presentation +day was called up to the dais by Dr. Steele, by all his names--much to Oscar's +annoyance; for a great deal of schoolboy chaff followed. + +"He was always generous, kindly, good-tempered. I remember he and myself were +on one occasion mounted as opposing jockeys on the backs of two bigger boys in +what we called a 'tournament,' held in one of the class-rooms. Oscar and his +horse were thrown, and the result was a broken arm for Wilde. Knowing that it +was an accident, he did not let it make any difference in our friendship. + +"He had, I think, no very special chums while at school. I was perhaps as +friendly with him all through as anybody, though his junior in class by a +year. . . . . + +"Willie Wilde was never very familiar with him, treating him always, in those +days, as a younger brother. . . . . + +"When in the head class together, we with two other boys were in the town of +Enniskillen one afternoon, and formed part of an audience who were listening +to a street orator. One of us, for the fun of the thing, got near the speaker +and with a stick knocked his hat off and then ran for home followed by the other +three. Several of the listeners, resenting the impertinence, gave chase, and +Oscar in his hurry collided with an aged cripple and threw him down--a fact +which was duly reported to the boys when we got safely back. Oscar was +afterwards heard telling how he found his way barred by an angry giant with whom +he fought through many rounds and whom he eventually left for dead in the road +after accomplishing prodigies of valour on his redoubtable opponent. Romantic +imagination was strong in him even in those schoolboy days; but there was always +something in his telling of such a tale to suggest that he felt his hearers were +not really being taken in; it was merely the romancing indulged in so humorously +by the two principal male characters in 'The Importance of Being Earnest.' . . . + +"He never took any interest in mathematics either at school or college. +He laughed at science and never had a good word for a mathematical or science +master, but there was nothing spiteful or malignant in anything he said against +them; or indeed against anybody. + +"The romances that impressed him most when at school were Disraeli's novels. +He spoke slightingly of Dickens as a novelist. . . . . + +"The classics absorbed almost his whole attention in his later school days, and +the flowing beauty of his oral translations in class, whether of Thucydides, +Plato or Virgil, was a thing not easily to be forgotten." + +This photograph, so to speak, of Oscar as a schoolboy is astonishingly clear +and lifelike; but I have another portrait of him from another contemporary, +who has since made for himself a high name as a scholar at Trinity, which, while +confirming the general traits sketched by Sir Edward Sullivan, takes somewhat +more notice of certain mental qualities which came later to the fruiting. + +This observer who does not wish his name given, writes: + +"Oscar had a pungent wit, and nearly all the nicknames in the school were +given by him. He was very good on the literary side of scholarship, with a +special leaning to poetry. . . . . + +"We noticed that he always liked to have editions of the classics that were of +stately size with large print. . . . . He was more careful in his dress than +any other boy. + +"He was a wide reader and read very fast indeed; how much he assimilated I never +could make out. He was poor at music. + +"We thought him a fair scholar but nothing extraordinary. However, he startled +everyone the last year at school in the classical medal examination, by walking +easily away from us all in the "viva voce" of the Greek play ('The Agamemnon')." + +I may now try and accentuate a trait or two of these photographs, so to speak, +and then realise the whole portrait by adding an account given to me by Oscar +himself. The joy in humorous romancing and the sweetness of temper recorded +by Sir Edward Sullivan were marked traits in Oscar's character all through his +life. His care in dressing too, and his delight in stately editions; his love +of literature "with a special leaning to poetry" were all qualities which +distinguished him to the end. + +"Until the last year of my school life at Portora," he said to me once, "I had +nothing like the reputation of my brother Willie. I read too many English +novels, too much poetry, dreamed away too much time to master the school tasks. + +"Knowledge came to me through pleasure, as it always comes, I imagine. . . . . + +"I was nearly sixteen when the wonder and beauty of the old Greek life began +to dawn upon me. Suddenly I seemed to see the white figures throwing purple +shadows on the sun-baked palaestra; 'bands of nude youths and maidens'--you +remember Gautier's words--'moving across a background of deep blue as on the +frieze of the Parthenon.' I began to read Greek eagerly for love of it all, +and the more I read the more I was enthralled: + +Oh what golden hours were for us +As we sat together there, +While the white vests of the chorus +Seemed to wave up a light air; +While the cothurns trod majestic +Down the deep iambic lines +And the rolling anapaestics +Curled like vapour over shrines. + +"The head master was always holding my brother Willie up to me as an example; +but even he admitted that in my last year at Portora I had made astounding +progress. I laid the foundation there of whatever classical scholarship +I possess." + +It occurred to me once to ask Oscar in later years whether the boarding school +life of a great, public school was not responsible for a good deal of sensual +viciousness. + +"Englishmen all say so," he replied, "but it did not enter into my experience. +I was very childish, Frank; a mere boy till I was over sixteen. Of course I was +sensual and curious, as boys are, and had the usual boy imaginings; but I did +not indulge in them excessively. + +"At Portora nine out of ten boys only thought of football or cricket or rowing. +Nearly every one went in for athletics--running and jumping and so forth; no one +appeared to care for sex. We were healthy young barbarians and that was all." + +"Did you go in for games?" I asked. + +"No," Oscar replied smiling, "I never liked to kick or be kicked." + +"Surely you went about with some younger boy, did you not, to whom you told your +dreams and hopes, and whom you grew to care for?" + +The question led to an intimate personal confession, which may take its place +here. + +"It is strange you should have mentioned it," he said. "There was one boy, +and," he added slowly, "one peculiar incident. It occurred in my last year at +Portora. The boy was a couple of years younger than I--we were great friends; +we used to take long walks together and I talked to him interminably. I told +him what I should have done had I been Alexander, or how I'd have played king in +Athens, had I been Alcibiades. As early as I can remember I used to identify +myself with every distinguished character I read about, but when I was fifteen +or sixteen I noticed with some wonder that I could think of myself as Alcibiades +or Sophocles more easily than as Alexander or Caesar. The life of books had +begun to interest me more than real life. . . . . + +"My friend had a wonderful gift for listening. I was so occupied with talking +and telling about myself that I knew very little about him, curiously little +when I come to think of it. But the last incident of my school life makes me +think he was a sort of mute poet, and had much more in him than I imagined. +It was just before I first heard that I had won an Exhibition and was to go to +Trinity. Dr. Steele had called me into his study to tell me the great news; +he was very glad, he said, and insisted that it was all due to my last year's +hard work. The 'hard' work had been very interesting to me, or I would not have +done much of it. The doctor wound up, I remember, by assuring me that if I went +on studying as I had been studying during the last year I might yet do as well +as my brother Willie, and be as great an honour to the school and everybody +connected with it as he had been. + +"This made me smile, for though I liked Willie, and knew he was a fairly good +scholar, I never for a moment regarded him as my equal in any intellectual +field. He knew all about football and cricket and studied the schoolbooks +assiduously, whereas I read everything that pleased me, and in my own opinion +always went about 'crowned.'" Here he laughed charmingly with amused deprecation +of the conceit. + +"It was only about the quality of the crown, Frank, that I was in any doubt. +If I had been offered the Triple Tiara, it would have appeared to me only the +meet reward of my extraordinary merit. . . . . + +"When I came out from the doctor's I hurried to my friend to tell him all +the wonderful news. To my surprise he was cold and said, a little bitterly, +I thought: + +"'You seem glad to go?' + +"'Glad to go,' I cried; 'I should think I was; fancy going to Trinity College, +Dublin, from this place; why, I shall meet men and not boys. Of course I am +glad, wild with delight; the first step to Oxford and fame.' + +"'I mean,' my chum went on, still in the same cold way, 'you seem glad to +leave me.' + +"His tone startled me. + +"'You silly fellow,' I exclaimed, 'of course not; I'm always glad to be with +you: but perhaps you will be coming up to Trinity too; won't you?' + +"'I'm afraid not,' he said, 'but I shall come to Dublin frequently.' + +"'Then we shall meet,' I remarked; 'you must come and see me in my rooms. My +father will give me a room to myself in our house, and you know Merrion Square +is the best part of Dublin. You must come and see me.' + +"He looked up at me with yearning, sad, regretful eyes. But the future was +beckoning to me, and I could not help talking about it, for the golden key of +wonderland was in my hand, and I was wild with desires and hopes. + +"My friend was very silent, I remember, and only interrupted me to ask: + +"'When do you go, Oscar?' + +"'Early,' I replied thoughtlessly, or rather full of my own thoughts, 'early +to-morrow morning, I believe; the usual train.' + +"In the morning just as I was starting for the station, having said 'goodbye' +to everyone, he came up to me very pale and strangely quiet. + +"'I'm coming with you to the station, Oscar,' he said; 'the Doctor gave me +permission, when I told him what friends we had been.' + +"'I'm glad,' I cried, my conscience pricking me that I had not thought of +asking for his company. 'I'm very glad. My last hours at school will always +be associated with you.' + +"He just glanced up at me, and the glance surprised me; it was like a dog looks +at one. But my own hopes soon took possession of me again, and I can only +remember being vaguely surprised by the appeal in his regard. + +"When I was settled in my seat in the train, he did not say 'goodbye' and go, +and leave me to my dreams; but brought me papers and things and hung about. + +"The guard came and said: + +"'Now, sir, if you are going.' + +"I liked the 'Sir.' To my surprise my friend jumped into the carriage and said: + +"'All right, guard, I'm not going, but I shall slip out as soon as you whistle.' + +"The guard touched his cap and went. I said something, I don't know what; I was +a little embarrassed. + +"'You will write to me, Oscar, won't you, and tell me about everything?' + +"'Oh, yes,' I replied, 'as soon as I get settled down, you know. There will +be such a lot to do at first, and I am wild to see everything. I wonder how +the professors will treat me. I do hope they will not be fools or prigs; +what a pity it is that all professors are not poets. . . . .' And so I went +on merrily, when suddenly the whistle sounded and a moment afterwards the train +began to move. + +"'You must go now,' I said to him. + +"'Yes,' he replied, in a queer muffled voice, while standing with his hand on +the door of the carriage. Suddenly he turned to me and cried: + +"'Oh, Oscar,' and before I knew what he was doing he had caught my face in his +hot hands, and kissed me on the lips. The next moment he had slipped out of the +door and was gone. . . . . + +"I sat there all shaken. Suddenly I became aware of cold, sticky drops +trickling down my face--his tears. They affected me strangely. As I wiped them +off I said to myself in amaze: + +"'This is love: this is what he meant--love.' . . . . + +"I was trembling all over. For a long while I sat, unable to think, all shaken +with wonder and remorse." + + + + +CHAPTER III--TRINITY, DUBLIN: MAGDALEN, OXFORD + + + +Oscar Wilde did well at school, but he did still better at college, where the +competition was more severe. He entered Trinity on October 19th, 1871, just +three days after his seventeenth birthday. Sir Edward Sullivan writes me that +when Oscar matriculated at Trinity he was already "a thoroughly good classical +scholar of a brilliant type," and he goes on to give an invaluable snap-shot +of him at this time; a likeness, in fact, the chief features of which grew more +and more characteristic as the years went on. + +"He had rooms in College at the north side of one of the older squares, known +as Botany Bay. These rooms were exceedingly grimy and ill-kept. He never +entertained there. On the rare occasions when visitors were admitted, an +unfinished landscape in oils was always on the easel, in a prominent place in +his sitting room. He would invariably refer to it, telling one in his +humorously unconvincing way that 'he had just put in the butterfly.' Those of us +who had seen his work in the drawing class presided over by 'Bully' Wakeman at +Portora were not likely to be deceived in the matter. . . . . + +"His college life was mainly one of study; in addition to working for his +classical examinations, he devoured with voracity all the best English +writers. + +"He was an intense admirer of Swinburne and constantly reading his poems; +John Addington Symond's works too, on the Greek authors, were perpetually in +his hands. He never entertained any pronounced views on social, religious or +political questions while in College; he seemed to be altogether devoted to +literary matters. + +"He mixed freely at the same time in Dublin society functions of all kinds, and +was always a very vivacious and welcome guest at any house he cared to visit. +All through his Dublin University days he was one of the purest minded men that +could be met with. + +"He was not a card player, but would on occasions join in a game of limited loo +at some man's rooms. He was also an extremely moderate drinker. He became a +member of the junior debating society, the Philosophical, but hardly ever took +any part in their discussions. + +"He read for the Berkeley medal (which he afterwards gained) with an excellent, +but at the same time broken-down, classical scholar, John Townsend Mills, and, +besides instruction, he contrived to get a good deal of amusement out of his +readings with his quaint teacher. He told me for instance that on one occasion +he expressed his sympathy for Mills on seeing him come into his rooms wearing +a tall hat completely covered in crape. Mills, however, replied, with a smile, +that no one was dead--it was only the evil condition of his hat that had made +him assume so mournful a disguise. I have often thought that the incident was +still fresh in Oscar Wilde's mind when he introduced John Worthing in 'The +Importance of Being Earnest,' in mourning for his fictitious brother. . . . . + +"Shortly before he started on his first trip to Italy, he came into my rooms in +a very striking pair of trousers. I made some chaffing remark on them, but he +begged me in the most serious style of which he was so excellent a master not to +jest about them. + +"'They are my Trasimene trousers, and I mean to wear them there.'" + +Already his humour was beginning to strike all his acquaintances, and what +Sir Edward Sullivan here calls his "puremindedness," or what I should rather +call his peculiar refinement of nature. No one ever heard Oscar Wilde tell a +suggestive story; indeed he always shrank from any gross or crude expression; +even his mouth was vowed always to pure beauty. + +The Trinity Don whom I have already quoted about Oscar's school-days sends me a +rather severe critical judgment of him as a student. There is some truth in it, +however, for in part at least it was borne out and corroborated by Oscar's later +achievement. It must be borne in mind that the Don was one of his competitors +at Trinity, and a successful one; Oscar's mind could not limit itself to college +tasks and prescribed books. + +"When Oscar came to college he did excellently during the first year; he was top +of his class in classics; but he did not do so well in the long examinations +for a classical scholarship in his second year. He was placed fifth, which was +considered very good, but he was plainly not the man for the dolichos (or long +struggle), though first-rate for a short examination." + +Oscar himself only completed these spirit-photographs by what he told me of +his life at Trinity. + +"It was the fascination of Greek letters, and the delight I took in Greek life +and thought," he said to me once, "which made me a scholar. I got my love of +the Greek ideal and my intimate knowledge of the language at Trinity from +Mahaffy and Tyrrell; they were Trinity to me; Mahaffy was especially valuable +to me at that time. Though not so good a scholar as Tyrrell, he had been in +Greece, had lived there and saturated himself with Greek thought and Greek +feeling. Besides he took deliberately the artistic standpoint towards +everything, which was coming more and more to be my standpoint. He was a +delightful talker, too, a really great talker in a certain way--an artist in +vivid words and eloquent pauses. Tyrrell, too, was very kind to me--intensely +sympathetic and crammed with knowledge. If he had known less he would have +been a poet. Learning is a sad handicap, Frank, an appalling handicap," and +he laughed irresistibly. + +"What were the students like in Dublin?" I asked. "Did you make friends with +any of them?" + +"They were worse even than the boys at Portora," he replied; "they thought of +nothing but cricket and football, running and jumping; and they varied these +intellectual exercises with bouts of fighting and drinking. If they had any +souls they diverted them with coarse "amours" among barmaids and the women +of the streets; they were simply awful. Sexual vice is even coarser and more +loathsome in Ireland than it is in England:-- + +"'Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.' + +"When I tried to talk they broke into my thought with stupid gibes and jokes. +Their highest idea of humour was an obscene story. No, no, Tyrrell and Mahaffy +represent to me whatever was good in Trinity." + +In 1874 Oscar Wilde won the gold medal for Greek. The subject of the year was +"The Fragments of the Greek Comic Poets, as edited by Meineke." In this year, +too, he won a classical scholarship--a demyship of the annual value of L95, +which was tenable for five years, which enabled him to go to Oxford without +throwing an undue strain on his father's means. + +He noticed with delight that his success was announced in the "Oxford University +Gazette" of July 11th, 1874. He entered Magdalen College, Oxford, on October +17th, a day after his twentieth birthday. + +Just as he had been more successful at Trinity than at school, so he was +destined to be far more successful and win a far greater reputation at Oxford +than in Dublin. + +He had the advantage of going to Oxford a little later than most men, at twenty +instead of eighteen, and thus was enabled to win high honours with comparative +ease, while leading a life of cultured enjoyment. + +He was placed in the first class in "Moderations" in 1876 and had even then +managed to make himself talked about in the life of the place. The Trinity Don +whom I have already quoted, after admitting that there was not a breath against +his character either at school or Trinity, goes on to write that "at Trinity he +did not strike us as a very exceptional person," and yet there must have been +some sharp eyes at Trinity, for our Don adds with surprising divination: + +"I fancy his rapid development took place after he went to Oxford, where he +was able to specialize more; in fact where he could study what he most affected. +It is, I feel sure, from his Oxford life more than from his life in Ireland that +one would be able to trace the good and bad features by which he afterwards +attracted the attention of the world." + +In 1878 Oscar won a First Class in "Greats." In this same Trinity term, 1878, +he further distinguished himself by gaining the Newdigate prize for English +verse with his poem "Ravenna," which he recited at the annual Commemoration in +the Sheldonian Theatre on June 26th. His reciting of the poem was the literary +event of the year in Oxford. + +There had been great curiosity about him; he was said to be the best talker +of the day, and one of the ripest scholars. There were those in the University +who predicted an astonishing future for him, and indeed all possibilities seemed +within his reach. "His verses were listened to," said "The Oxford and Cambridge +Undergraduates' Journal", "with rapt attention." It was just the sort of thing, +half poetry, half rhythmic rhetoric, which was sure to reach the hearts and +minds of youth. His voice, too, was of beautiful tenor quality, and exquisitely +used. When he sat down people crowded to praise him and even men of great +distinction in life flattered him with extravagant compliments. Strange to say +he used always to declare that his appearance about the same time as Prince +Rupert, at a fancy dress ball, given by Mrs. George Morrell, at Headington Hill +Hall, afforded him a far more gratifying proof of the exceptional position he +had won. + +"Everyone came round me, Frank, and made me talk. I hardly danced at all. +I went as Prince Rupert, and I talked as he charged but with more success, for +I turned all my foes into friends. I had the divinest evening; Oxford meant +so much to me. . . . . + +"I wish I could tell you all Oxford did for me. + +"I was the happiest man in the world when I entered Magdalen for the +first time. Oxford--the mere word to me is full of an inexpressible, an +incommunicable charm. Oxford--the home of lost causes and impossible ideals; +Matthew Arnold's Oxford--with its dreaming spires and grey colleges, set in +velvet lawns and hidden away among the trees, and about it the beautiful fields, +all starred with cowslips and fritillaries where the quiet river winds its way +to London and the sea. . . . . The change, Frank, to me was astounding; Trinity +was as barbarian as school, with coarseness superadded. If it had not been for +two or three people, I should have been worse off at Trinity than at Portora; +but Oxford--Oxford was paradise to me. My very soul seemed to expand within me +to peace and joy. Oxford--the enchanted valley, holding in its flowerlet cup +all the idealism of the middle ages. (Oscar was always fond of loosely quoting +or paraphrasing in conversation the purple passages from contemporary writers. +He said them exquisitely and sometimes his own embroidery was as good as +the original. This discipleship, however, always suggested to me a lack of +originality. In especial Matthew Arnold had an extraordinary influence upon +him, almost as great indeed as Pater.) Oxford is the capital of romance, Frank; +in its own way as memorable as Athens, and to me it was even more entrancing. +In Oxford, as in Athens, the realities of sordid life were kept at a distance. +No one seemed to know anything about money or care anything for it. Everywhere +the aristocratic feeling; one must have money, but must not bother about it. +And all the appurtenances of life were perfect: the food, the wine, the +cigarettes; the common needs of life became artistic symbols, our clothes even +won meaning and significance. It was at Oxford I first dressed in knee breeches +and silk stockings. I almost reformed fashion and made modern dress +aesthetically beautiful; a second and greater reformation, Frank. What a pity +it is that Luther knew nothing of dress, had no sense of the becoming. He had +courage but no fineness of perception. I'm afraid his neckties would always +have been quite shocking!" and he laughed charmingly. + +"What about the inside of the platter, Oscar?" + +"Ah, Frank, don't ask me, I don't know; there was no grossness, no coarseness; +but all delicate delights! + +"'Fair passions and bountiful pities and loves without +pain,'" ("Stain," not "pain," in the original.) + +and he laughed mischievously at the misquotation. + +"Loves?" I questioned, and he nodded his head smiling; but would not be drawn. + +"All romantic and ideal affections. Every successive wave of youths from the +public schools brought some chosen spirits, perfectly wonderful persons, the +most graceful and fascinating disciples that a poet could desire, and I preached +the old-ever-new gospel of individual revolt and individual perfection. +I showed them that sin with its curiosities widened the horizons of life. +Prejudices and prohibitions are mere walls to imprison the soul. Indulgence +may hurt the body, Frank, but nothing except suffering hurts the spirit; it is +self-denial and abstinence that maim and deform the soul." + +"Then they knew you as a great talker even at Oxford?" I asked in some surprise. + +"Frank," he cried reprovingly, laughing at the same time delightfully, "I was a +great talker at school. I did nothing at Trinity but talk, my reading was done +at odd hours. I was the best talker ever seen in Oxford." + +"And did you find any teacher there like Mahaffy?" I asked, "any professor with +a touch of the poet?" + +He came to seriousness at once. + +"There were two or three teachers, Frank," he replied, "greater than Mahaffy; +teachers of the world as well as of Oxford. There was Ruskin for instance, who +appealed to me intensely--a wonderful man and a most wonderful writer. A sort +of exquisite romantic flower; like a violet filling the whole air with the +ineffable perfume of belief. Ruskin has always seemed to me the Plato of +England--a Prophet of the Good and True and Beautiful, who saw as Plato saw that +the three are one perfect flower. But it was his prose I loved, and not his +piety. His sympathy with the poor bored me: the road he wanted us to build was +tiresome. I could see nothing in poverty that appealed to me, nothing; I shrank +away from it as from a degradation of the spirit; but his prose was lyrical and +rose on broad wings into the blue. He was a great poet and teacher, Frank, and +therefore of course a most preposterous professor; he bored you to death when he +taught, but was an inspiration when he sang. + +"Then there was Pater, Pater the classic, Pater the scholar, who had already +written the greatest English prose: I think a page or two of the greatest prose +in all literature. Pater meant everything to me. He taught me the highest form +of art: the austerity of beauty. I came to my full growth with Pater. He was a +sort of silent, sympathetic elder brother. Fortunately for me he could not talk +at all; but he was an admirable listener, and I talked to him by the hour. I +learned the instrument of speech with him, for I could see by his face when I +had said anything extraordinary. He did not praise me but quickened me +astonishingly, forced me always to do better than my best--an intense vivifying +influence, the influence of Greek art at its supremest." + +"He was the Gamaliel then?" I questioned, "at whose feet you sat?" + +"Oh, no, Frank," he chided, "everyone sat at my feet even then. But Pater was a +very great man. Dear Pater! I remember once talking to him when we were seated +together on a bench under some trees in Oxford. I had been watching the +students bathing in the river: the beautiful white figures all grace and ease +and virile strength. I had been pointing out how Christianity had flowered into +romance, and how the crude Hebraic materialism and all the later formalities of +an established creed had fallen away from the tree of life and left us the +exquisite ideals of the new paganism. . . . + +"The pale Christ had been outlived: his renunciations and his sympathies were +mere weaknesses: we were moving to a synthesis of art where the enchanting +perfume of romance should be wedded to the severe beauty of classic form. +I really talked as if inspired, and when I paused, Pater--the stiff, quiet, +silent Pater--suddenly slipped from his seat and knelt down by me and kissed +my hand. I cried: + +"'You must not, you really must not. What would people think if they saw you?' + +"He got up with a white strained face. + +"'I had to,' he muttered, glancing about him fearfully, 'I had to--once. . . .'" + +I must warn my readers that this whole incident is ripened and set in a higher +key of thought by the fact that Oscar told it more than ten years after it +happened. + + + + +CHAPTER IV--FORMATIVE INFLUENCES: OSCAR'S POEMS + + + +The most important event in Oscar's early life happened while he was still +an undergraduate at Oxford: his father, Sir William Wilde, died in 1876, leaving +to his wife, Lady Wilde, nearly all he possessed, some L7,000, the interest +of which was barely enough to keep her in genteel poverty. The sum is so small +that one is constrained to believe the report that Sir William Wilde in his +later years kept practically open house--"lashins of whisky and a good larder," +and was besides notorious for his gallantries. Oscar's small portion, a little +money and a small house with some land, came to him in the nick of time: he used +the cash partly to pay some debts at Oxford, partly to defray the expenses of a +trip to Greece. It was natural that Oscar Wilde, with his eager sponge-like +receptivity, should receive the best academic education of his time, and should +better that by travel. We all get something like the education we desire, and +Oscar Wilde, it always seemed to me, was over-educated, had learned, that is, +too much from books and not enough from life and had thought too little for +himself; but my readers will be able to judge of this for themselves. + +In 1877 he accompanied Professor Mahaffy on a long tour through Greece. The +pleasure and profit Oscar got from the trip were so great that he failed to +return to Oxford on the date fixed. The Dons fined him forty-five pounds for +the breach of discipline; but they returned the money to him in the following +year when he won First Honours in "Greats" and the Newdigate prize. + +This visit to Greece when he was twenty-three confirmed the view of life which +he had already formed and I have indicated sufficiently perhaps in that talk +with Pater already recorded. But no one will understand Oscar Wilde who for +a moment loses sight of the fact that he was a pagan born: as Gautier says, +"One for whom the visible world alone exists," endowed with all the Greek +sensuousness and love of plastic beauty; a pagan, like Nietzsche and Gautier, +wholly out of sympathy with Christianity, one of "the Confraternity of +the faithless who "cannot" believe," (His own words in "De Profundis.") +to whom a sense of sin and repentance are symptoms of weakness and disease. + +Oscar used often to say that the chief pleasure he had in visiting Rome was +to find the Greek gods and the heroes and heroines of Greek story throned in +the Vatican. He preferred Niobe to the Mater Dolorosa and Helen to both; the +worship of sorrow must give place, he declared, to the worship of the beautiful. + +Another dominant characteristic of the young man may here find its place. + +While still at Oxford his tastes--the bent of his mind, and his temperament-- +were beginning to outline his future. He spent his vacations in Dublin and +always called upon his old school friend Edward Sullivan in his rooms at +Trinity. Sullivan relates that when they met Oscar used to be full of his +occasional visits to London and could talk of nothing but the impression made +upon him by plays and players. From youth on the theatre drew him irresistibly; +he had not only all the vanity of the actor; but what might be called the born +dramatist's love for the varied life of the stage--its paintings, costumings, +rhetoric--and above all the touch of emphasis natural to it which gives such +opportunity for humorous exaggeration. + +"I remember him telling me," Sullivan writes, "about Irving's 'Macbeth,' which +made a great impression on him; he was fascinated by it. He feared, however, +that the public might be similarly affected--a thing which, he declared, would +destroy his enjoyment of an extraordinary performance." He admired Miss Ellen +Terry, too, extravagantly, as he admired Marion Terry, Mrs. Langtry, and Mary +Anderson later. + +The death of Sir William Wilde put an end to the family life in Dublin, and +set the survivors free. Lady Wilde had lost her husband and her only daughter +in Merrion Square: the house was full of sad memories to her, she was eager to +leave it all and settle in London. + +The "Requiescat" in Oscar's first book of poems was written in memory of this +sister who died in her teens, whom he likened to "a ray of sunshine dancing +about the house." He took his vocation seriously even in youth: he felt that he +should sing his sorrow, give record of whatever happened to him in life. But he +found no new word for his bereavement. + +Willie Wilde came over to London and got employment as a journalist and was +soon given almost a free hand by the editor of the society paper "The World". +With rare unselfishness, or, if you will, with Celtic clannishness, he did a +good deal to make Oscar's name known. Every clever thing that Oscar said or +that could be attributed to him, Willie reported in "The World". This puffing +and Oscar's own uncommon power as a talker; but chiefly perhaps a whispered +reputation for strange sins, had thus early begun to form a sort of myth around +him. He was already on the way to becoming a personage; there was a certain +curiosity about him, a flutter of interest in whatever he did. He had published +poems in the Trinity College magazine, "Kottabos", and elsewhere. People were +beginning to take him at his own valuation as a poet and a wit; and the more +readily as that ambition did not clash in any way with their more material +strivings. + +The time had now come for Oscar to conquer London as he had conquered Oxford. +He had finished the first class in the great World-School and was eager to try +the next, where his mistakes would be his only tutors and his desires his +taskmasters. His University successes flattered him with the belief that he +would go from triumph to triumph and be the exception proving the rule that +the victor in the academic lists seldom repeats his victories on the battlefield +of life. + +It is not sufficiently understood that the learning of Latin and Greek and +the forming of expensive habits at others' cost are a positive disability and +handicap in the rough-and-tumble tussle of the great city, where greed and +unscrupulous resolution rule, and where there are few prizes for feats of memory +or taste in words. When the graduate wins in life he wins as a rule in spite of +his so-called education and not because of it. + +It is true that the majority of English 'Varsity men give themselves an +infinitely better education than that provided by the authorities. They devote +themselves to athletic sports with whole-hearted enthusiasm. Fortunately for +them it is impossible to develop the body without at the same time steeling the +will. The would-be athlete has to live laborious days; he may not eat to his +liking, nor drink to his thirst. He learns deep lessons almost unconsciously; +to conquer his desires and make light of pain and discomfort. He needs no +Aristotle to teach him the value of habits; he is soon forced to use them as +defences against his pet weaknesses; above all he finds that self-denial has its +reward in perfect health; that the thistle pain, too, has its flower. It is a +truism that 'Varsity athletes generally succeed in life, Spartan discipline +proving itself incomparably superior to Greek accidence. + +Oscar Wilde knew nothing of this discipline. He had never trained his body +to endure or his will to steadfastness. He was the perfect flower of academic +study and leisure. At Magdalen he had been taught luxurious living, the delight +of gratifying expensive tastes; he had been brought up and enervated so to speak +in Capua. His vanity had been full-fed with cloistered triumphs; he was at +once pleasure-loving, vainly self-confident and weak; he had been encouraged +for years to give way to his emotions and to pamper his sensations, and as the +Cap-and-Bells of Folly to cherish a fantastic code of honour even in mortal +combat, while despising the religion which might have given him some hold on +the respect of his compatriots. What chance had this cultured honour-loving +Sybarite in the deadly grapple of modern life where the first quality is will +power, the only knowledge needed a knowledge of the value of money. I must not +be understood here as in any degree disparaging Oscar. I can surely state that +a flower is weaker than a weed without exalting the weed or depreciating the +flower. + +The first part of life's voyage was over for Oscar Wilde; let us try to see him +as he saw himself at this time and let us also determine his true relations to +the world. Fortunately he has given us his own view of himself with some care. + +In Foster's "Alumni Oxonienses", Oscar Wilde described himself on leaving Oxford +as a "Professor of aesthetics, and a Critic of Art"--an announcement to me at +once infinitely ludicrous and pathetic. "Ludicrous" because it betrays such +complete ignorance of life all given over to men industrious with muck-rakes: +"Gadarene swine," as Carlyle called them, "busily grubbing and grunting in +search of pignuts." "Pathetic" for it is boldly ingenuous as youth itself with +a touch of youthful conceit and exaggeration. Another eager human soul on the +threshold longing to find some suitable high work in the world, all unwitting +of the fact that ideal strivings are everywhere despised and discouraged-- +jerry-built cottages for the million being the day's demand and not oratories +or palaces of art or temples for the spirit. + +Not the time for a "professor of aesthetics," one would say, and assuredly +not the place. One wonders whether Zululand would not be more favourable for +such a man than England. Germany, France, and Italy have many positions in +universities, picture-galleries, museums, opera houses for lovers of the +beautiful, and above all an educated respect for artists and writers just +as they have places too for servants of Truth in chemical laboratories and +polytechnics endowed by the State with excellent results even from the +utilitarian point of view. But rich England has only a few dozen such places +in all at command and these are usually allotted with a cynical contempt for +merit; miserable anarchic England, soul-starved amid its creature comforts, +proving now by way of example to helots that man cannot live by bread alone:-- +England and Oscar Wilde! the "Black Country" and "the professor of aesthetics"-- +a mad world, my masters! + +It is necessary for us now to face this mournful truth that in the quarrel +between these two the faults were not all on one side, mayhap England was even +further removed from the ideal than the would-be professor of aesthetics, +which fact may well give us pause and food for thought. Organic progress we +have been told; indeed, might have seen if we had eyes, evolution so-called +is from the simple to the complex; our rulers therefore should have provided +for the ever-growing complexity of modern life and modern men. The good +gardener will even make it his ambition to produce new species; our politicians, +however, will not take the trouble to give even the new species that appear a +chance of living; they are too busy, it appears, in keeping their jobs. + +No new profession has been organized in England since the Middle Ages. In the +meantime we have invented new arts, new sciences and new letters; when will +these be organized and regimented in new and living professions, so that young +ingenuous souls may find suitable fields for their powers and may not be forced +willy-nilly to grub for pignuts when it would be more profitable for them and +for us to use their nobler faculties? Not only are the poor poorer and more +numerous in England than elsewhere; but there is less provision made for the +"intellectuals" too, consequently the organism is suffering at both extremities. +It is high time that both maladies were taken in hand, for by universal consent +England is now about the worst organized of all modern States, the furthest +from the ideal. + +Something too should be done with the existing professions to make them worthy +of honourable ambition. One of them, the Church, is a noble body without a +soul; the soul, our nostrils tell us, died some time ago, while the medical +profession has got a noble spirit with a wretched half-organized body. It says +much for the inherent integrity and piety of human nature that our doctors +persist in trying to cure diseases when it is clearly to their self-interest to +keep their patients ailing--an anarchic world, this English one, and stupefied +with self-praise. What will this professor of aesthetics make of it? + +Here he is, the flower of English University training, a winner of some of the +chief academic prizes without any worthy means of earning a livelihood, save +perchance by journalism. And journalism in England suffers from the prevailing +anarchy. In France, Italy, and Germany journalism is a career in which an +eloquent and cultured youth may honourably win his spurs. In many countries +this way of earning one's bread can still be turned into an art by the gifted +and high-minded; but in England thanks in the main to the anonymity of the press +cunningly contrived by the capitalist, the journalist or modern preacher is +turned into a venal voice, a soulless Cheapjack paid to puff his master's wares. +Clearly our "Professor of aesthetics and Critic of Art" is likely to have a +doleful time of it in nineteenth century London. + +Oscar had already dipped into his little patrimony, as we have seen, and he +could not conceal from himself that he would soon have to live on what he could +earn--a few pounds a week. But then he was a poet and had boundless confidence +in his own ability. To the artist nature the present is everything; just for +to-day he resolved that he would live as he had always lived; so he travelled +first class to London and bought all the books and papers that could distract +him on the way: "Give me the luxuries," he used to say, "and anyone can have +the necessaries." + +In the background of his mind there were serious misgivings. Long afterwards +he told me that his father's death and the smallness of his patrimony had been +a heavy blow to him. He encouraged himself, however, at the moment by dwelling +on his brother's comparative success and waved aside fears and doubts as +unworthy. + +It is to his credit that at first he tried to cut down expenses and live +laborious days. He took a couple of furnished rooms in Salisbury Street off the +Strand, a very Grub Street for a man of fashion, and began to work at journalism +while getting together a book of poems for publication. His journalism at first +was anything but successful. It was his misfortune to appeal only to the best +heads and good heads are not numerous anywhere. His appeal, too, was still +academic and laboured. His brother Willie with his commoner sympathies appeared +to be better equipped for this work. But Oscar had from the first a certain +social success. + +As soon as he reached London he stepped boldly into the limelight, going to +all "first nights" and taking the floor on all occasions. He was not only an +admirable talker but he was invariably smiling, eager, full of life and the joy +of living, and above all given to unmeasured praise of whatever and whoever +pleased him. This gift of enthusiastic admiration was not only his most +engaging characteristic, but also, perhaps, the chief proof of his extraordinary +ability. It was certainly, too, the quality which served him best all through +his life. He went about declaring that Mrs. Langtry was more beautiful than +the 'Venus of Milo,' and Lady Archie Campbell more charming than Rosalind and +Mr. Whistler an incomparable artist. Such enthusiasm in a young and brilliant +man was unexpected and delightful and doors were thrown open to him in all sets. +Those who praise passionately are generally welcome guests and if Oscar could +not praise he shrugged his shoulders and kept silent; scarcely a bitter word +ever fell from those smiling lips. No tactics could have been more successful +in England than his native gift of radiant good-humour and enthusiasm. He got +to know not only all the actors and actresses, but the chief patrons and +frequenters of the theatre: Lord Lytton, Lady Shrewsbury, Lady Dorothy Nevill, +Lady de Grey and Mrs. Jeune; and, on the other hand, Hardy, Meredith, Browning, +Swinburne, and Matthew Arnold--all Bohemia, in fact, and all that part of +Mayfair which cares for the things of the intellect. + +But though he went out a great deal and met a great many distinguished people, +and won a certain popularity, his social success put no money in his purse. +It even forced him to spend money; for the constant applause of his hearers +gave him self-confidence. He began to talk more and write less, and cabs and +gloves and flowers cost money. He was soon compelled to mortgage his little +property in Ireland. + +At the same time it must be admitted he was still indefatigably intent on +bettering his mind, and in London he found more original teachers than in +Oxford, notably Morris and Whistler. Morris, though greatly overpraised during +his life, had hardly any message for the men of his time. He went for his +ideals to an imaginary past and what he taught and praised was often totally +unsuited to modern conditions. Whistler on the other hand was a modern of the +moderns, and a great artist to boot: he had not only assimilated all the newest +thought of the day, but with the alchemy of genius had transmuted it and made it +his own. Before even the de Goncourts he had admired Chinese porcelain and +Japanese prints and his own exquisite intuition strengthened by Japanese example +had shown him that his impression of life was more valuable than any mere +transcript of it. Modern art he felt should be an interpretation and not a +representment of reality, and he taught the golden rule of the artist that the +half is usually more expressive than the whole. He went about London preaching +new schemes of decoration and another Renaissance of art. Had he only been a +painter he would never have exercised an extraordinary influence; but he was a +singularly interesting appearance as well and an admirable talker gifted with +picturesque phrases and a most caustic wit. + +Oscar sat at his feet and imbibed as much as he could of the new aesthetic +gospel. He even ventured to annex some of the master's most telling stories +and thus came into conflict with his teacher. + +One incident may find a place here. + +The art critic of "The Times", Mr. Humphry Ward, had come to see an exhibition +of Whistler's pictures. Filled with an undue sense of his own importance, he +buttonholed the master and pointing to one picture said: + +"That's good, first-rate, a lovely bit of colour; but that, you know," he went +on, jerking his finger over his shoulder at another picture, "that's bad, +drawing all wrong . . . bad!" + +"My dear fellow," cried Whistler, "you must never say that this painting's good +or that bad, never! Good and bad are not terms to be used by you; but say, I +like this, and I dislike that, and you'll be within your right. And now come +and have a whiskey for you're sure to like that." + +Carried away by the witty fling, Oscar cried: + +"I wish I had said that." + +"You will, Oscar, you will," came Whistler's lightning thrust. + +Of all the personal influences which went to the moulding of Oscar Wilde's +talent, that of Whistler, in my opinion, was the most important; Whistler taught +him that men of genius stand apart and are laws unto themselves; showed him, +too, that all qualities--singularity of appearance, wit, rudeness even, count +doubly in a democracy. But neither his own talent nor the bold self-assertion +learned from Whistler helped him to earn money; the conquest of London seemed +further off and more improbable than ever. Where Whistler had missed the laurel +how could he or indeed anyone be sure of winning? + +A weaker professor of aesthetics would have been discouraged by the monetary +and other difficulties of his position and would have lost heart at the outset +in front of the impenetrable blank wall of English philistinism and contempt. +But Oscar Wilde was conscious of great ability and was driven by an inordinate +vanity. Instead of diminishing his pretensions in the face of opposition he +increased them. He began to go abroad in the evening in knee breeches and silk +stockings wearing strange flowers in his coat--green cornflowers and gilded +lilies--while talking about Baudelaire, whose name even was unfamiliar, as a +world poet, and proclaiming the strange creed that "nothing succeeds like +excess." Very soon his name came into everyone's mouth; London talked of +him and discussed him at a thousand tea-tables. For one invitation he had +received before, a dozen now poured in; he became a celebrity. + +Of course he was still sneered at by many as a mere "poseur"; it still seemed +to be all Lombard Street to a china orange that he would be beaten down +under the myriad trampling feet of middle-class indifference and disdain. + +Some circumstances were in his favour. Though the artistic movement inaugurated +years before by the Pre-Raphaelites was still laughed at and scorned by the +many as a craze, a few had stood firm, and slowly the steadfast minority had +begun to sway the majority as is often the case in democracies. Oscar Wilde +profited by the victory of these art-loving forerunners. Here and there among +the indifferent public, men were attracted by the artistic view of life and +women by the emotional intensity of the new creed. Oscar Wilde became the +prophet of an esoteric cult. But notoriety even did not solve the monetary +question, which grew more and more insistent. A dozen times he waved it aside +and went into debt rather than restrain himself. Somehow or other he would fall +on his feet, he thought. Men who console themselves in this way usually fall +on someone else's feet and so did Oscar Wilde. At twenty-six years of age and +curiously enough at the very moment of his insolent-bold challenge of the world +with fantastic dress, he stooped to ask his mother for money, money which she +could ill spare, though to do her justice she never wasted a second thought on +money where her affections were concerned, and she not only loved Oscar but was +proud of him. Still she could not give him much; the difficulty was only +postponed; what was to be done? + +His vanity had grown with his growth; the dread of defeat was only a spur +to the society favourite; he cast about for some means of conquering the +Philistines, and could think of nothing but his book of poems. He had been +trying off and on for nearly a year to get it published. The publishers told +him roundly that there was no money in poetry and refused the risk. But the +notoriety of his knee-breeches and silken hose, and above all the continual +attacks in the society papers, came to his aid and his book appeared in the +early summer of 1881 with all the importance that imposing form, good paper, +broad margins, and high price (10/6) could give it. The truth was, he paid for +the printing and production of the book himself, and David Bogue, the publisher, +put his name on for a commission. + +Oscar had built high fantastic hopes on this book. To the very end of his +life he believed himself a poet and in the creative sense of the word he was +assuredly justified, but he meant it in the singing sense as well, and there his +claim can only be admitted with serious qualifications. But whether he was a +singer or not the hopes founded on this book were extravagant; he expected to +make not only reputation by it, but a large amount of money, and money is not +often made in England by poetry. + +The book had an extraordinary success, greater, it may safely be said, than any +first book of real poetry has ever had in England or indeed is ever likely to +have: four editions were sold in a few weeks. Two of the Sonnets in the book +were addressed to Ellen Terry, one as "Portia," the other as "Henrietta Maria"; +and these partly account for the book's popularity, for Miss Terry was delighted +with them and praised the book and its author to the skies. (In her +"Recollections" Miss Terry says that she was more impressed by the genius of +Oscar Wilde and of Whistler than by that of any other men.) I reproduce the +"Henrietta Maria" sonnet here as a fair specimen of the work: + +QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA + +In the lone tent, waiting for victory, + She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, + Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain: +The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky, +War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry, + To her proud soul no common fear can bring: + Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King, +Her soul aflame with passionate ecstasy. +O Hair of Gold! O Crimson Lips! O Face! + Made for the luring and the love of man! + With thee I do forget the toil and stress, +The loveless road that knows no resting-place, + Time's straitened pulse, the soul's dread weariness, +My freedom and my life republican. + +Lyric poetry is by its excellence the chief art of England, as music is the +art of Germany. A book of poetry is almost sure of fair appreciation in the +English press which does not trouble to notice a "Sartor Resartus" or the first +essays of an Emerson. The excessive consideration given to Oscar's book by the +critics showed that already his personality and social success had affected the +reporters. + +"The Athenaeum" gave the book the place of honour in its number for the 23rd of +July. The review was severe; but not unjust. "Mr. Wilde's volume of poems," it +says, "may be regarded as the evangel of a new creed. From other gospels it +differs in coming after, instead of before, the cult it seeks to establish. +. . . . We fail to see, however, that the apostle of the new worship has any +distinct message." + +The critic then took pains to prove that "nearly all the book is imitative" +. . . . and concluded: "Work of this nature has no element of endurance." + +"The Saturday Review "dismissed the book at the end of an article on "Recent +Poetry" as "neither good nor bad." The reviewer objected in the English fashion +to the sensual tone of the poems; but summed up fairly enough: "This book is not +without traces of cleverness, but it is marred everywhere by imitation, +insincerity, and bad taste." + +At the same time the notices in "Punch" were extravagantly bitter, while of +course the notices in "The World", mainly written by Oscar's brother, were +extravagantly eulogistic. "Punch" declared that "Mr. Wilde may be aesthetic, +but he is not original . . . . a volume of echoes. . . . . Swinburne and water." + +Now what did "The Athenaeum" mean by taking a new book of imitative verse so +seriously and talking of it as the "evangel of a new creed," besides suggesting +that "it comes after the cult," and so forth? + +It seems probable that "The Athenaeum" mistook Oscar Wilde for a continuator +of the Pre-Raphaelite movement with the sub-conscious and peculiarly English +suggestion that whatever is "aesthetic" or "artistic" is necessarily weak and +worthless, if not worse. + +Soon after Oscar left Oxford "Punch" began to caricature him and ridicule the +cult of what it christened "The Too Utterly Utter." Nine Englishmen out of ten +took delight in the savage contempt poured upon what was known euphemistically +as "the aesthetic craze" by the pet organ of the English middle class. + +This was the sort of thing "Punch" published under the title of "A Poet's Day": + +"Oscar at Breakfast! Oscar at Luncheon!! +Oscar at Dinner!!! Oscar at Supper!!!!" + +"'You see I am, after all, mortal,' 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 nonchalance of a D'Orsay. + +"After this effort Mr. Wilde expressed himself as feeling somewhat faint; and +with a half apologetic smile ordered another portion of Ham and Eggs." + +"Punch"'s verses on the subject were of the same sort, showing spite rather +than humour. Under the heading of "Sage Green" (by a fading-out aesthete) it +published such stuff as this: + +My love is as fair as a lily flower. + ("The Peacock blue has a sacred sheen!") +Oh, bright are the blooms in her maiden bower. + ("Sing Hey! Sing Ho! for the sweet Sage Green!") +. . . . . . . . . . . . . +And woe is me that I never may win; + ("The Peacock blue has a sacred sheen!") +For the Bard's hard up, and she's got no tin. + ("Sing Hey! Sing Ho! for the sweet Sage Green!") + +Taking the criticism as a whole it would be useless to deny that there is an +underlying assumption of vicious sensuality in the poet which is believed to +be reflected in the poetry. This is the only way to explain the condemnation +which is much more bitter than the verse deserves. + +The poems gave Oscar pocket money for a season; increased too his notoriety; +but did him little or no good with the judicious: there was not a memorable +word or a new cadence, or a sincere cry in the book. Still, first volumes of +poetry are as a rule imitative and the attempt, if inferior to "Venus and +Adonis," was not without interest. + +Oscar was naturally disappointed with the criticism, but the sales encouraged +him and the stir the book made and he was as determined as ever to succeed. +What was to be done next? + + + + +CHAPTER V--OSCAR'S QUARREL WITH WHISTLER AND MARRIAGE + + + +The first round in the battle with Fate was inconclusive. Oscar Wilde had +managed to get known and talked about and had kept his head above water for +a couple of years while learning something about life and more about himself. +On the other hand he had spent almost all his patrimony, had run into some debt +besides; yet seemed as far as ever from earning a decent living. The outlook +was disquieting. + +Even as a young man Oscar had a very considerable understanding of life. He +could not make his way as a journalist, the English did not care for his poetry; +but there was still the lecture-platform. In his heart he knew that he could +talk better than he wrote. + +He got his brother to announce boldly in "The World" that owing to the +"astonishing success of his 'Poems' Mr. Oscar Wilde had been invited to +lecture in America." + +The invitation was imaginary; but Oscar had resolved to break into this new +field; there was money in it, he felt sure. + +Besides he had another string to his bow. When the first rumblings of the +social storm in Russia reached England, our aristocratic republican seized +occasion by the forelock and wrote a play on the Nihilist Conspiracy called +"Vera". This drama was impregnated with popular English liberal sentiment. +With the interest of actuality about it "Vera" was published in September, 1880; +but fell flat. + +The assassination of the Tsar Alexander, however, in March, 1881; the way +Oscar's poems published in June of that year were taken up by Miss Terry and +puffed in the press, induced Mrs. Bernard Beere, an actress of some merit, to +accept "Vera" for the stage. It was suddenly announced that "Vera" would be put +on by Mrs. Bernard Beere at The Adelphi in December, '81; but the author had to +be content with this advertisement. December came and went and "Vera" was not +staged. It seemed probable to Oscar that it might be accepted in America; at +any rate, there could be no harm in trying: he sailed for New York. + +It was on the cards that he might succeed in his new adventure. The taste of +America in letters and art is still strongly influenced, if not formed, by +English taste, and, if Oscar Wilde had been properly accredited, it is probable +that his extraordinary gift of speech would have won him success in America as +a lecturer. + +His phrase to the Revenue officers on landing: "I have nothing to declare +except my genius," turned the limelight full upon him and excited comment and +discussion all over the country. But the fuglemen of his caste whose praise had +brought him to the front in England were almost unrepresented in the States, and +never bold enough to be partisans. Oscar faced the American Philistine public +without his accustomed "claque", and under these circumstances a half-success +was evidence of considerable power. His subjects were "The English Renaissance" +and "House Decoration." + +His first lecture at Chickering Hall on January 9, 1882, was so much talked +about that the famous impresario, Major Pond, engaged him for a tour which, +however, had to be cut short in the middle as a monetary failure. "The Nation" +gave a very fair account of his first lecture: "Mr. Wilde is essentially a +foreign product and can hardly succeed in this country. What he has to say is +not new, and his extravagance is not extravagant enough to amuse the average +American audience. His knee-breeches and long hair are good as far as they go; +but Bunthorne has really spoiled the public for Wilde." + +"The Nation" underrated American curiosity. Oscar lectured some ninety times +from January till July, when he returned to New York. The gross receipts +amounted to some L4,000: he received about L1,200, which left him with a few +hundreds above his expenses. His optimism regarded this as a triumph. + +One is fain to confess today that these lectures make very poor reading. There +is not a new thought in them; not even a memorable expression; they are nothing +but student work, the best passages in them being mere paraphrases of Pater and +Arnold, though the titles were borrowed from Whistler. Dr. Ernest Bendz in his +monograph on "The Influence of Pater and Matthew Arnold in the Prose-Writings of +Oscar Wilde" has established this fact with curious erudition and completeness. + +Still, the lecturer was a fine figure of a man: his knee-breeches and silk +stockings set all the women talking, and he spoke with suave authority. Even +the dullest had to admit that his elocution was excellent, and the manner of +speech is keenly appreciated in America. In some of the Eastern towns, in +New York especially, he had a certain success, the success of sensation and of +novelty, such success as every large capital gives to the strange and eccentric. + +In Boston he scored a triumph of character. Fifty or sixty Harvard students +came to his lecture dressed to caricature him in "swallow tail coats, knee +breeches, flowing wigs and green ties. They all wore large lilies in their +buttonholes and each man carried a huge sunflower as he limped along." That +evening Oscar appeared in ordinary dress and went on with his lecture as if he +had not noticed the rudeness. The chief Boston paper gave him due credit: + +"Everyone who witnessed the scene on Tuesday evening must feel about it very +much as we do, and those who came to scoff, if they did not exactly remain to +pray, at least left the Music Hall with feelings of cordial liking, and, perhaps +to their own surprise, of respect for Oscar Wilde." (By way of heaping coals of +fire on the students' heads Oscar presented a cast of the Hermes (then recently +unearthed) to the University of Harvard.) + +As he travelled west to Louisville and Omaha his popularity dwined and dwindled. +Still he persevered and after leaving the States visited Canada, reaching +Halifax in the autumn. + +One incident must find a place here. On September 6 he sent L80 to Lady Wilde. +I have been told that this was merely a return of money she had advanced; but +there can be no doubt that Oscar, unlike his brother Willie, helped his mother +again and again most generously, though Willie was always her favourite. + +Oscar returned to England in April, 1883, and lectured to the Art Students at +their club in Golden Square. This at once brought about a break with Whistler +who accused him of plagiarism:--"Picking from our platters the plums for the +puddings he peddles in the provinces." + +If one compares this lecture with Oscar's on "The English Renaissance of Art," +delivered in New York only a year before, and with Whistler's well-known +opinions, it is impossible not to admit that the charge was justified. Such +phrases as "artists are not to copy beauty but to create it . . . . a picture +is a purely decorative thing," proclaim their author. + +The long newspaper wrangle between the two was brought to a head in 1885, when +Whistler gave his famous "Ten o'clock" discourse on Art. This lecture was +infinitely better than any of Oscar Wilde's. Twenty odd years older than Wilde, +Whistler was a master of all his resources: he was not only witty, but he had +new views on art and original ideas. As a great artist he knew that "there +never was an artistic period. There never was an Art-loving nation." Again +and again he reached pure beauty of expression. The masterly persiflage, too, +filled me with admiration and I declared that the lecture ranked with the best +ever heard in London with Coleridge's on Shakespeare and Carlyle's on Heroes. +To my astonishment Oscar would not admit the superlative quality of Whistler's +talk; he thought the message paradoxical and the ridicule of the professors +too bitter. "Whistler's like a wasp," he cried, "and carries about with him a +poisoned sting." Oscar's kindly sweet nature revolted against the disdainful +aggressiveness of Whistler's attitude. Besides, in essence, Whistler's lecture +was an attack on the academic theory taught in the universities, and defended +naturally by a young scholar like Oscar Wilde. Whistler's view that the artist +was sporadic, a happy chance, a "sport," in fact, was a new view, and Oscar had +not yet reached this level; he reviewed the master in the "Pall Mall Gazette", +a review remarkable for one of the earliest gleams of that genial humour which +later became his most characteristic gift: "Whistler," he said, "is indeed one +of the very greatest masters of painting in my opinion. And I may add that in +this opinion Mr. Whistler himself entirely concurs." + +Whistler retorted in "The World" and Oscar replied, but Whistler had the best of +the argument. . . . . "Oscar--the amiable, irresponsible, esurient Oscar--with +no more sense of a picture than of the fit of a coat, has the courage of the +opinions . . . . of others!" + +It should be noted here that one of the bitterest of tongues could not help +doing homage to Oscar Wilde's "amiability": Whistler even preferred to call him +"amiable and irresponsible" rather than give his plagiarism a harsher attribute. + +Oscar Wilde learned almost all he knew of art (confer Appendix: "Criticisms by +Robert Ross.") and of controversy from Whistler, but he was never more than a +pupil in either field; for controversy in especial he was poorly equipped: he +had neither the courage, nor the contempt, nor the joy in conflict of his great +exemplar. + +Unperturbed by Whistler's attacks, Oscar went on lecturing about the country on +"Personal Impressions of America," and in August crossed again to New York to +see his play "Vera" produced by Marie Prescott at the Union Square Theatre. It +was a complete failure, as might have been expected; the serious part of it was +such as any talented young man might have written. Nevertheless I find in this +play for the first time, a characteristic gleam of humour, an unexpected flirt +of wing, so to speak, which, in view of the future, is full of promise. At the +time it passed unappreciated. + +September, 1883, saw Oscar again in England. The platform gave him better +results than the theatre, but not enough for freedom or ease. It is the more to +his credit that as soon as he got a couple of hundred pounds ahead, he resolved +to spend it in bettering his mind. + +His longing for wider culture, and perhaps in part, the example of Whistler, +drove him to Paris. He put up at the little provincial Hotel Voltaire on the +Quai Voltaire and quickly made acquaintance with everyone of note in the world +of letters, from Victor Hugo to Paul Bourget. He admired Verlaine's genius to +the full but the grotesque physical ugliness of the man himself (Verlaine was +like a masque of Socrates) and his sordid and unclean way of living prevented +Oscar from really getting to know him. During this stay in Paris Oscar read +enormously and his French, which had been schoolboyish, became quite good. He +always said that Balzac, and especially his poet, Lucien de Rubempre, had been +his teachers. + +While in Paris he completed his blank-verse play, "The Duchess of Padua," and +sent it to Miss Mary Anderson in America, who refused it, although she had +commissioned him, he always said, to write it. It seems to me inferior even +to "Vera" in interest, more academic and further from life, and when produced +in New York in 1891 it was a complete frost. + +In a few months Oscar Wilde had spent his money and had skimmed the cream from +Paris, as he thought; accordingly he returned to London and took rooms again, +this time in Charles Street, Mayfair. He had learned some rude lessons in the +years since leaving Oxford, and the first and most impressive lesson was the +fear of poverty. Yet his taking rooms in the fashionable part of town showed +that he was more determined than ever to rise and not to sink. + +It was Lady Wilde who urged him to take rooms near her; she never doubted +his ultimate triumph. She knew all his poems by heart, took the strass for +diamonds and welcomed the chance of introducing her brilliant son to the Irish +Nationalist Members and other pinchbeck celebrities who flocked about her. + +It was about this time that I first saw Lady Wilde. I was introduced to her +by Willie, Oscar's elder brother, whom I had met in Fleet Street. Willie was +then a tall, well-made fellow of thirty or thereabouts with an expressive +taking face, lit up with a pair of deep blue laughing eyes. He had any amount +of physical vivacity, and told a good story with immense verve, without for a +moment getting above the commonplace: to him the Corinthian journalism of "The +Daily Telegraph" was literature. Still he had the surface good nature and good +humour of healthy youth and was generally liked. He took me to his mother's +house one afternoon; but first he had a drink here and a chat there so that we +did not reach the West End till after six o'clock. + +The room and its occupants made an indelible grotesque impression on me. It +seemed smaller than it was because overcrowded with a score of women and half +a dozen men. It was very dark and there were empty tea-cups and cigarette ends +everywhere. Lady Wilde sat enthroned behind the tea-table looking like a sort +of female Buddha swathed in wraps--a large woman with a heavy face and prominent +nose; very like Oscar indeed, with the same sallow skin which always looked +dirty; her eyes too were her redeeming feature--vivacious and quick-glancing +as a girl's. She "made up" like an actress and naturally preferred shadowed +gloom to sunlight. Her idealism came to show as soon as she spoke. It was a +necessity of her nature to be enthusiastic; unfriendly critics said hysterical, +but I should prefer to say high-falutin' about everything she enjoyed or +admired. She was at her best in misfortune; her great vanity gave her a certain +proud stoicism which was admirable. + +The Land League was under discussion as we entered, and Parnell's attitude +to it. Lady Wilde regarded him as the predestined saviour of her country. +"Parnell," she said with a strong accent on the first syllable, "is the man +of destiny; he will strike off the fetters and free Ireland, and throne her +as Queen among the nations." + +A murmur of applause came from a thin birdlike woman standing opposite, who +floated towards us clad in a sage-green gown, which sheathed her like an +umbrella case; had she had any figure the dress would have been indecent. + +"How like 'Speranza'!" she cooed, "dear Lady Wilde!" I noticed that her glance +went towards Willie, who was standing on the other side of his mother, talking +to a tall, handsome girl. Willie's friend seemed amused at the lyrical outburst +of the green spinster, for smiling a little she questioned him: + +"'Speranza' is Lady Wilde?" she asked with a slight American accent. + +Lady Wilde informed the company with all the impressiveness she had at command +that she did not expect Oscar that afternoon; "he is so busy with his new poems, + you know; they say there has been no such sensation since Byron," she added; +"already everyone is talking of them." + +"Indeed, yes," sighed the green lily, "do you remember, dear Speranza, what he +said about 'The Sphinx,' that he read to us. He told us the written verse was +quite different from what the printed poem would be just as the sculptor's clay +model differs from the marble. Subtle, wasn't it?" + +"Perfectly true, too!" cried a man, with a falsetto voice, moving into the +circle; "Leonardo himself might have said that." + +The whole scene seemed to me affected and middle-class, untidy, too, with an un- +English note about it of shiftlessness; the aesthetic dresses were extravagant, +the enthusiasms pumped up and exaggerated. I was glad to leave quietly. + +It was on this visit to Lady Wilde, or a later one, that I first heard of that +other poem of Oscar, "The Harlot's House," which was also said to have been +written in Paris. Though published in an obscure sheet and in itself +commonplace enough it made an astonishing stir. Time and advertisement had been +working for him. Academic lectures and imitative poetry alike had made him +widely known; and, thanks to the small body of enthusiastic admirers whom I have +already spoken of, his reputation instead of waning out had grown like the Jinn +when released from the bottle. + +The fuglemen were determined to find something wonderful in everything he did, +and the title of "The Harlot's House," shocking Philistinism, gave them a +certain opportunity which they used to the uttermost. On all sides one +was asked: "Have you seen Oscar's latest?" And then the last verse would be +quoted:--"Divine, don't ye think?" + +"And down the long and silent street, + The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet, +Crept like a frightened girl." + +In spite of all this extravagant eulogy Oscar Wilde's early plays and poems, +like his lectures, were unimportant. The small remnant of people in England who +really love the things of the spirit were disappointed in them, failed to find +in them the genius so loudly and so arrogantly vaunted. + +But, if Oscar Wilde's early writings were failures, his talk was more successful +than ever. He still tried to show off on all occasions and sometimes fell flat +in consequence; but his failures in this field were few and merely comparative; +constant practice was ripening his extraordinary natural gift. About this time, +too, he began to develop that humorous vein in conversation, which later lent a +singular distinction to his casual utterances. + +His talk brought him numerous invitations to dinner and lunch and introduced him +to some of the best houses in London, but it produced no money. He was earning +very little and he needed money, comparatively large sums of money, from week +to week. + +Oscar Wilde was extravagant in almost every possible way. He wished to be well- +fed, well-dressed, well-wined, and prodigal of "tips." He wanted first editions +of the poets; had a liking for old furniture and old silver, for fine pictures, +Eastern carpets and Renascence bronzes; in fine, he had all the artist's desires +as well as those of the poet and "viveur". He was constantly in dire need of +cash and did not hesitate to borrow fifty pounds from anyone who would lend it +to him. He was beginning to experience the truth of the old verse: + +'Tis a very good world to live in, + To lend or to spend or to give in, +But to beg or to borrow or get a man's own, + 'Tis the very worst world that ever was known. + +The difficulties of life were constantly increasing upon him. He despised bread +and butter and talked only of champagne and caviare; but without bread, hunger +is imminent. Victory no longer seemed indubitable. It was possible, it began +even to be probable that the fair ship of his fame might come to wreck on the +shoals of poverty. + +It was painfully clear that he must do something without further delay, must +either conquer want or overleap it. Would he bridle his desires, live savingly, +and write assiduously till such repute came as would enable him to launch out +and indulge his tastes? He was wise enough to see the advantages of such a +course. Every day his reputation as a talker was growing. Had he had a little +more self-control, had he waited a little longer till his position in society +was secured, he could easily have married someone with money and position who +would have placed him above sordid care and fear for ever. But he could not +wait; he was colossally vain; he would wear the peacock's feathers at all times +and all costs: he was intensely pleasure-loving, too; his mouth watered for +every fruit. Besides, he couldn't write with creditors at the door. Like +Bossuet he was unable to work when bothered about small economies:--"s'il etait +a l'etroit dans son domestique". + +What was to be done? Suddenly he cut the knot and married the daughter of a +Q.C., a Miss Constance Lloyd, a young lady without any particular qualities +or beauty, whom he had met in Dublin on a lecture tour. Miss Lloyd had a few +hundreds a year of her own, just enough to keep the wolf from the door. The +couple went to live in Tite Street, Chelsea, in a modest little house. The +drawing-room, however, was decorated by Godwin and quickly gained a certain +notoriety. It was indeed a charming room with an artistic distinction and +appeal of its own. + +As soon as the dreadful load of poverty was removed, Oscar began to go about a +great deal, and his wife would certainly have been invited with him if he had +refused invitations addressed to himself alone; but from the beginning he +accepted them and consequently after the first few months of marriage his wife +went out but little, and later children came and kept her at home. Having +earned a respite from care by his marriage, Oscar did little for the next three +years but talk. Critical observers began to make up their minds that he was a +talker and not a writer. "He was a power in the art," as de Quincey said of +Coleridge; "and he carried a new art into the power." Every year this gift grew +with him: every year he talked more and more brilliantly, and he was allowed +now, and indeed expected, to hold the table. + +In London there is no such thing as conversation. Now and then one hears a +caustic or witty phrase, but nothing more. The tone of good society everywhere +is to be pleasant without being prominent. In every other European country, +however, able men are encouraged to talk; in England alone they are discouraged. +People in society use a debased jargon or slang, snobbish shibboleths for the +most part, and the majority resent any one man monopolising attention. But +Oscar Wilde was allowed this privileged position, was encouraged to hold forth +to amuse people, as singers are brought in to sing after dinner. + +Though his fame as a witty and delightful talker grew from week to week, even +his marriage did not stifle the undertone of dislike and disgust. Now +indignantly, now with contempt, men spoke of him as abandoned, a creature of +unnatural viciousness. There were certain houses in the best set of London +society the doors of which were closed to him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI--OSCAR WILDE'S FAITH AND PRACTICE + + + +From 1884 on I met Oscar Wilde continually, now at the theatre, now in some +society drawing room; most often, I think, at Mrs. Jeune's (afterwards Lady St. +Helier). His appearance was not in his favour; there was something oily and fat +about him that repelled me. Naturally being British-born and young I tried to +give my repugnance a moral foundation; fleshly indulgence and laziness, I said +to myself, were written all over him. The snatches of his monologues which I +caught from time to time seemed to me to consist chiefly of epigrams almost +mechanically constructed of proverbs and familiar sayings turned upside down. +Two of Balzac's characters, it will be remembered, practised this form of +humour. The desire to astonish and dazzle, the love of the uncommon for its own +sake, was so evident that I shrugged my shoulders and avoided him. One evening, +however, at Mrs. Jeune's, I got to know him better. At the very door Mrs. Jeune +came up to me: + +"Have you ever met Mr. Oscar Wilde? You ought to know him: he is so +delightfully clever, so brilliant!" + +I went with her and was formally introduced to him. He shook hands in a limp +way I disliked; his hands were flabby, greasy; his skin looked bilious and +dirty. He wore a great green scarab ring on one finger. He was over-dressed +rather than well-dressed; his clothes fitted him too tightly; he was too stout. +He had a trick which I noticed even then, which grew on him later, of pulling +his jowl with his right hand as he spoke, and his jowl was already fat and +pouchy. His appearance filled me with distaste. I lay stress on this physical +repulsion, because I think most people felt it, and in itself, it is a tribute +to the fascination of the man that he should have overcome the first impression +so completely and so quickly. I don't remember what we talked about, but I +noticed almost immediately that his grey eyes were finely expressive; in turn +vivacious, laughing, sympathetic; always beautiful. The carven mouth, too, with +its heavy, chiselled, purple-tinged lips, had a certain attraction and +significance in spite of a black front tooth which shocked one when he laughed. +He was over six feet in height and both broad and thick-set; he looked like a +Roman Emperor of the decadence. + +We had a certain interest in each other, an interest of curiosity, for I +remember that he led the way almost at once into the inner drawing room in order +to be free to talk in some seclusion. After half an hour or so I asked him to +lunch next day at "The Cafe Royal", then the best restaurant in London. + +At this time he was a superb talker, more brilliant than any I have ever heard +in England, but nothing like what he became later. His talk soon made me forget +his repellant physical peculiarities; indeed I soon lost sight of them so +completely that I have wondered since how I could have been so disagreeably +affected by them at first sight. There was an extraordinary physical vivacity +and geniality in the man, an extraordinary charm in his gaiety, and lightning- +quick intelligence. His enthusiasms, too, were infectious. Every mental +question interested him, especially if it had anything to do with art or +literature. His whole face lit up as he spoke and one saw nothing but his +soulful eyes, heard nothing but his musical tenor voice; he was indeed what the +French call a "charmeur". + +In ten minutes I confessed to myself that I liked him, and his talk was +intensely quickening. He had something unexpected to say on almost every +subject. His mind was agile and powerful and he took a delight in using it. +He was well-read too, in several languages, especially in French, and his +excellent memory stood him in good stead. Even when he merely reproduced +what the great writers had said perfectly, he added a new colouring. And +already his characteristic humour was beginning to illumine every topic with +lambent flashes. + +It was at our first lunch, I think, that he told me he had been asked by +Harper's to write a book of one hundred thousand words and offered a large sum +for it--I think some five thousand dollars--in advance. He wrote to them +gravely that there were not one hundred thousand words in English, so he could +not undertake the work, and laughed merrily like a child at the cheeky reproof. + +"I have sent their letters and my reply to the press," he added, and laughed +again, while probing me with inquisitive eyes: how far did I understand the need +of self-advertisement? + +About this time an impromptu of his moved the town to laughter. At some +dinner party it appeared the ladies sat a little too long; Oscar wanted to +smoke. Suddenly the hostess drew his attention to a lamp the shade of which +was smouldering. + +"Please put it out, Mr. Wilde," she said, "it's smoking." + +Oscar turned to do as he was told with the remark: + +"Happy lamp!" + +The delightful impertinence had an extraordinary success. + +Early in our friendship I was fain to see that the love of the uncommon, his +paradoxes and epigrams were natural to him, sprang immediately from his taste +and temperament. Perhaps it would be well to define once for all his attitude +towards life with more scope and particularity than I have hitherto done. + +It is often assumed that he had no clear and coherent view of life, no belief, +no faith to guide his vagrant footsteps; but such an opinion does him injustice. +He had his own philosophy, and held to it for long years with astonishing +tenacity. His attitude towards life can best be seen if he is held up against +Goethe. He took the artist's view of life which Goethe was the first to state +and indeed in youth had overstated with an astonishing persuasiveness: "the +beautiful is more than the good," said Goethe; "for it includes the good." + +It seemed to Oscar, as it had seemed to young Goethe, that "the extraordinary +alone survives"; the extraordinary whether good or bad; he therefore sought +after the extraordinary, and naturally enough often fell into the extravagant. +But how stimulating it was in London, where sordid platitudes drip and drizzle +all day long, to hear someone talking brilliant paradoxes. + +Goethe did not linger long in the halfway house of unbelief; the murderer may +win notoriety as easily as the martyr, but his memory will not remain. "The +fashion of this world passeth away," said Goethe, "I would fain occupy myself +with that which endures." Midway in life Goethe accepted Kant's moral +imperative and restated his creed: "A man must resolve to live," he said, +"for the Good, and Beautiful, and for the Common Weal." + +Oscar did not push his thought so far: the transcendental was not his field. + +It was a pity, I sometimes felt, that he had not studied German as thoroughly +as French; Goethe might have done more for him than Baudelaire or Balzac, for +in spite of all his stodgy German faults, Goethe is the best guide through the +mysteries of life whom the modern world has yet produced. Oscar Wilde stopped +where the religion of Goethe began; he was far more of a pagan and individualist +than the great German; he lived for the beautiful and extraordinary, but not for +the Good and still less for the Whole; he acknowledged no moral obligation; "in +commune bonis" was an ideal which never said anything to him; he cared nothing +for the common weal; he held himself above the mass of the people with an +Englishman's extravagant insularity and aggressive pride. Politics, social +problems, religion--everything interested him simply as a subject of art; life +itself was merely material for art. He held the position Goethe had abandoned +in youth. + +The view was astounding in England and new everywhere in its onesidedness. +Its passionate exaggeration, however, was quickening, and there is, of course, +something to be said for it. The artistic view of life is often higher than +the ordinary religious view; at least it does not deal in condemnations and +exclusions; it is more reasonable, more catholic, more finely perceptive. + +"The artist's view of life is the only possible one," Oscar used to say, +"and should be applied to everything, most of all to religion and morality. +Cavaliers and Puritans are interesting for their costumes and not for their +convictions. . . . + +"There is no general rule of health; it is all personal, individual. . . . . +I only demand that freedom which I willingly concede to others. No one +condemns another for preferring green to gold. Why should any taste be +ostracized? Liking and disliking are not under our control. I want to +choose the nourishment which suits "my" body and "my" soul." + +I can almost hear him say the words with his charming humorous smile and +exquisite flash of deprecation, as if he were half inclined to make fun of +his own statement. + +It was not his views on art, however, which recommended him to the aristocratic +set in London; but his contempt for social reform, or rather his utter +indifference to it, and his English love of inequality. The republicanism he +flaunted in his early verses was not even skin deep; his political beliefs and +prejudices were the prejudices of the English governing class and were all in +favour of individual freedom, or anarchy under the protection of the policeman. + +"The poor are poor creatures," was his real belief, "and must always be hewers +of wood and drawers of water. They are merely the virgin soil out of which men +of genius and artists grow like flowers. Their function is to give birth to +genius and nourish it. They have no other "raison d'etre". Were men as +intelligent as bees, all gifted individuals would be supported by the community, +as the bees support their queen. We should be the first charge on the state +just as Socrates declared that he should be kept in the Prytaneum at the +public expense. + +"Don't talk to me, Frank, about the hardships of the poor. The hardships of +the poor are necessities, but talk to me of the hardships of men of genius, and +I could weep tears of blood. I was never so affected by any book in my life as +I was by the misery of Balzac's poet, Lucien de Rubempre." + +Naturally this creed of an exaggerated individualism appealed peculiarly to the +best set in London. It was eminently aristocratic and might almost be defended +as scientific, for to a certain extent it found corroboration in Darwinism. All +progress according to Darwin comes from peculiar individuals; "sports" as men of +science call them, or the "heaven-sent" as rhetoricians prefer to style them. +The many are only there to produce more "sports" and ultimately to benefit +by them. All this is valid enough; but it leaves the crux of the question +untouched. The poor in aristocratic England are too degraded to produce +"sports" of genius, or indeed any "sports" of much value to humanity. Such +an extravagant inequality of condition obtains there that the noble soul is +miserable, the strongest insecure. But Wilde's creed was intensely popular +with the "Smart Set" because of its very one-sidedness, and he was hailed as +a prophet partly because he defended the cherished prejudices of the "landed" +oligarchy. + +It will be seen from this that Oscar Wilde was in some danger of suffering from +excessive popularity and unmerited renown. Indeed if he had loved athletic +sports, hunting and shooting instead of art and letters, he might have been the +selected representative of aristocratic England. + +In addition to his own popular qualities a strong current was sweeping him to +success. He was detested by the whole of the middle or shop-keeping class which +in England, according to Matthew Arnold, has "the sense of conduct--and has but +little else." This class hated and feared him; feared him for his intellectual +freedom and his contempt of conventionality, and hated him because of his light- +hearted self-indulgence, and also because it saw in him none of its own sordid +virtues. "Punch" is peculiarly the representative of this class and of all +English prejudices, and "Punch" jeered at him now in prose, now in verse, +week after week. Under the heading, "More Impressions" (by Oscuro Wildgoose) +I find this: + +"My little fancy's clogged with gush, + My little lyre is false in tone, + And when I lyrically moan, +I hear the impatient critic's 'Tush!' + +"But I've 'Impressions.' These are grand! + Mere dabs of words, mere blobs of tint, + Displayed on canvas or in print, +Men laud, and think they understand. + +"A smudge of brown, a smear of yellow, + No tale, no subject,--there you are! + Impressions!--and the strangest far +Is--that the bard's a clever fellow." + +A little later these lines appeared: + +"My languid lily, my lank limp lily, + My long, lithe lily-love, men may grin-- +Say that I'm soft and supremely silly-- +What care I, while you whisper still; + What care I, while you smile? Not a pin! + While you smile, while you whisper-- + 'Tis sweet to decay! + I have watered with chlorodine, tears of chagrin, + The churchyard mould I have planted thee in, + Upside down, in an intense way, + In a rough red flower-pot, "sweeter than sin", + That I bought for a halfpenny, yesterday!" + +The italics are mine; but the suggestion was always implicit; yet this +constant wind of puritanic hatred blowing against him helped instead of +hindering his progress: strong men are made by opposition; like kites they +go up against the wind. + + + + +CHAPTER VII--OSCAR'S REPUTATION AND SUPPORTERS + + + +"Believe me, child, all the gentleman's misfortunes arose from his being +educated at a public school. . . . ."--Fielding. + +In England success is a plant of slow growth. The tone of good society, though +responsive to political talent, and openly, eagerly sensitive to money-making +talent, is contemptuous of genius and rates the utmost brilliancy of the talker +hardly higher than the feats of an acrobat. Men are obstinate, slow, trusting +a bank-balance rather than brains; and giving way reluctantly to sharp-witted +superiority. The road up to power or influence in England is full of pitfalls +and far too arduous for those who have neither high birth nor wealth to help +them. The natural inequality of men instead of being mitigated by law or +custom is everywhere strengthened and increased by a thousand effete social +distinctions. Even in the best class where a certain easy familiarity reigns +there is circle above circle, and the summits are isolated by heredity. + +The conditions of English society being what they are, it is all but impossible +at first to account for the rapidity of Oscar Wilde's social success; yet if +we tell over his advantages and bring one or two into the account which have +not yet been reckoned, we shall find almost every element that conduces to +popularity. By talent and conviction he was the natural pet of the aristocracy +whose selfish prejudices he defended and whose leisure he amused. The middle +class, as has been noted, disliked and despised him: but its social influence is +small and its papers, and especially "Punch", made him notorious by attacking +him in and out of season. The comic weekly, indeed, helped to build up his +reputation by the almost inexplicable bitterness of its invective. + +Another potent force was in his favour. From the beginning he set himself to +play the game of the popular actor, and neglected no opportunity of turning the +limelight on his own doings. As he said, his admiration of himself was "a +lifelong devotion," and he proclaimed his passion on the housetops. + +Our names happened to be mentioned together once in some paper, I think it was +"The Pall Mall Gazette". He asked me what I was going to reply. + +"Nothing," I answered, "why should I bother? I've done nothing yet that +deserves trumpeting." + +"You're making a mistake," he said seriously. "If you wish for reputation and +fame in this world, and success during your lifetime, you ought to seize every +opportunity of advertising yourself. You remember the Latin word, 'Fame springs +from one's own house.' Like other wise sayings, it's not quite true; fame comes +from oneself," and he laughed delightedly; "you must go about repeating how +great you are till the dull crowd comes to believe it." + +"The prophet must proclaim himself, eh? and declare his own mission?" + +"That's it," he replied with a smile; "that's it. + +"Every time my name is mentioned in a paper, I write at once to admit that I am +the Messiah. Why is Pears' soap successful? Not because it is better or +cheaper than any other soap, but because it is more strenuously puffed. The +journalist is my 'John the Baptist.' What would you give, when a book of yours +comes out, to be able to write a long article drawing attention to it in "The +Pall Mall Gazette"? Here you have the opportunity of making your name known +just as widely; why not avail yourself of it? I miss no chance," and to do him +justice he used occasion to the utmost. + +Curiously enough Bacon had the same insight, and I have often wondered since +whether Oscar's worldly wisdom was original or was borrowed from the great +Elizabethan climber. Bacon says: + +"'Boldly sound your own praises and some of them will stick.' . . . . It will +stick with the more ignorant and the populace, though men of wisdom may smile at +it; and the reputation won with many will amply countervail the disdain of a +few. . . . . And surely no small number of those who are of solid nature, and +who, from the want of this ventosity, cannot spread all sail in pursuit of their +own honour, suffer some prejudice and lose dignity by their moderation." + +Many of Oscar's letters to the papers in these years were amusing, some of them +full of humour. For example, when he was asked to give a list of the hundred +best books, as Lord Avebury and other mediocrities had done, he wrote saying +that "he could not give a list of the hundred best books, as he had only written +five." + +Winged words of his were always passing from mouth to mouth in town. +Some theatre was opened which was found horribly ugly: one spoke of it as +"Early Victorian." + +"No, no," replied Oscar, "nothing so distinctive. 'Early Maple,' rather." + +Even his impertinences made echoes. At a great reception, a friend asked him +in passing, how the hostess, Lady S----, could be recognized. Lady S---- being +short and stout, Oscar replied, smiling: + +"Go through this room, my dear fellow, and the next and so on till you come to +someone looking like a public monument, say the effigy of Britannia or Victoria +--that's Lady S----." + +Though he used to pretend that all this self-advertisement was premeditated +and planned, I could hardly believe him. He was eager to write about himself +because of his exaggerated vanity and reflection afterwards found grounds to +justify his inclination. But whatever the motive may have been the effect +was palpable: his name was continually in men's mouths, and his fame grew by +repetition. As Tiberius said of Mucianus: + +""Omnium quae dixerat feceratque, arte quadam ostentator"" (He had a knack of +showing off and advertising whatever he said or did). + +But no personal qualities, however eminent, no gifts, no graces of heart or +head or soul could have brought a young man to Oscar Wilde's social position +and popularity in a few years. + +Another cause was at work lifting him steadily. From the time he left Oxford he +was acclaimed and backed by a small minority of passionate admirers whom I have +called his fuglemen. These admirers formed the constant factor in his progress +from social height to height. For the most part they were persons usually +called "sexual inverts," who looked to the brilliancy of his intellect to gild +their esoteric indulgence. This class in England is almost wholly recruited +from the aristocracy and the upper middle-class that apes the "smart set." It +is an inevitable product of the English boarding school and University system; +indeed one of the most characteristic products. I shall probably bring upon +myself a host of enemies by this assertion, but it has been weighed and must +stand. Fielding has already put the same view on record: he says: + +"A public school, Joseph, was the cause of all the calamities which he +afterwards suffered. Public schools are the nurseries of all vice and +immorality. All the wicked fellows whom I remember at the University were +bred at them....." + +If boarding-school life with its close intimacies between boys from twelve to +eighteen years of age were understood by English mothers, it is safe to say that +every boarding-house in every school would disappear in a single night, and +Eton, Harrow, Winchester and the rest would be turned into day-schools. + +Those who have learned bad habits at school or in the 'Varsity are inclined to +continue the practices in later life. Naturally enough these men are usually +distinguished by a certain artistic sympathy, and often by most attractive, +intellectual qualities. As a rule the epicene have soft voices and ingratiating +manners, and are bold enough to make a direct appeal to the heart and emotions; +they are considered the very cream of London society. + +These admirers and supporters praised and defended Oscar Wilde from the +beginning with the persistence and courage of men who if they don't hang +together are likely to hang separately. After his trial and condemnation +"The Daily Telegraph" spoke with contempt of these "decadents" and "aesthetes" +who, it asserted, "could be numbered in London society on the fingers of one +hand"; but even "The Daily Telegraph" must have known that in the "smart set" +alone there are hundreds of these acolytes whose intellectual and artistic +culture gives them an importance out of all proportion to their number. It was +the passionate support of these men in the first place which made Oscar Wilde +notorious and successful. + +This fact may well give pause to the thoughtful reader. In the middle ages, +when birth and position had a disproportionate power in life, the Catholic +Church supplied a certain democratic corrective to the inequality of social +conditions. It was a sort of "Jacob's Ladder" leading from the lowest strata of +society to the very heavens and offering to ingenuous, youthful talent a career +of infinite hope and unlimited ambition. This great power of the Roman Church +in the middle-ages may well be compared to the influence exerted by those whom I +have designated as Oscar Wilde's fuglemen in the England of today. The easiest +way to success in London society is to be notorious in this sense. Whatever +career one may have chosen, however humble one's birth, one is then certain of +finding distinguished friends and impassioned advocates. If you happen to be in +the army and unmarried, you are declared to be a strategist like Caesar, or an +organizer like Moltke; if you are an artist, instead of having your faults +proclaimed and your failings scourged, your qualifications are eulogised and +you find yourself compared to Michel Angelo or Titian! I would not willingly +exaggerate here; but I could easily give dozens of instances to prove that +sexual perversion is a "Jacob's Ladder" to most forms of success in our time +in London. + +It seems a curious effect of the great compensatory balance of things that a +masculine rude people like the English, who love nothing so much as adventures +and warlike achievements, should allow themselves to be steered in ordinary +times by epicene aesthetes. But no one who knows the facts will deny that these +men are prodigiously influential in London in all artistic and literary matters, +and it was their constant passionate support which lifted Oscar Wilde so quickly +to eminence. + +From the beginning they fought for him. He was regarded as a leader among +them when still at Oxford. Yet his early writings show no trace of such a +prepossession; they are wholly void of offence, without even a suggestion of +coarseness, as pure indeed as his talk. Nevertheless, as soon as his name came +up among men in town, the accusation of abnormal viciousness was either made or +hinted. Everyone spoke as if there were no doubt about his tastes, and this in +spite of the habitual reticence of Englishmen. I could not understand how the +imputation came to be so bold and universal; how so shameful a calumny, as I +regarded it, was so firmly established in men's minds. Again and again I +protested against the injustice, demanded proofs; but was met only by shrugs +and pitying glances as if my prejudice must indeed be invincible if I needed +evidence of the obvious. + +I have since been assured, on what should be excellent authority, that the evil +reputation which attached to Oscar Wilde in those early years in London was +completely undeserved. I, too, must say that in the first period of our +friendship, I never noticed anything that could give colour even to suspicion +of him; but the belief in his abnormal tastes was widespread and dated from his +life in Oxford. + +From about 1886-7 on, however, there was a notable change in Oscar Wilde's +manners and mode of life. He had been married a couple of years, two children +had been born to him; yet instead of settling down he appeared suddenly to have +become wilder. In 1887 he accepted the editorship of a lady's paper, "The +Woman's World", and was always mocking at the selection of himself as the +"fittest" for such a post: he had grown noticeably bolder. I told myself that +an assured income and position give confidence; but at bottom a doubt began to +form in me. It can't be denied that from 1887-8 on, incidents occurred from +time to time which kept the suspicion of him alive, and indeed pointed and +strengthened it. I shall have to deal now with some of the more important of +these occurrences. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII--OSCAR'S GROWTH TO ORIGINALITY ABOUT 1890 + + + +The period of growth of any organism is the most interesting and most +instructive. And there is no moment of growth in the individual life which +can be compared in importance with the moment when a man begins to outtop his +age, and to suggest the future evolution of humanity by his own genius. Usually +this final stage is passed in solitude: + +"Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, + Sich ein Charakter in dem Strome der Welt." + +After writing a life of Schiller which almost anyone might have written, Carlyle +retired for some years to Craigenputtoch, and then brought forth "Sartor +Resartus", which was personal and soul-revealing to the verge of eccentricity. +In the same way Wagner was a mere continuator of Weber in "Lohengrin" and +"Tannhaeuser", and first came to his own in the "Meistersinger" and "Tristan", +after years of meditation in Switzerland. + +This period for Oscar Wilde began with his marriage; the freedom from sordid +anxieties allowed him to lift up his head and be himself. Kepler, I think, it +is who praises poverty as the foster-mother of genius; but Bernard Palissy was +nearer the truth when he said:--"Pauvrete empeche bons esprits de parvenir" +(poverty hinders fine minds from succeeding). There is no such mortal enemy of +genius as poverty except riches: a touch of the spur from time to time does +good; but a constant rowelling disables. As editor of "The Woman's World "Oscar +had some money of his own to spend. Though his salary was only some six pounds +a week, it made him independent, and his editorial work gave him an excuse for +not exhausting himself by writing. For some years after marriage; in fact, till +he lost his editorship, he wrote little and talked a great deal. + +During this period we were often together. He lunched with me once or twice a +week and I began to know his method of work. Everything came to him in the +excitement of talk, epigrams, paradoxes and stories; and when people of great +position or title were about him he generally managed to surpass himself: all +social distinctions appealed to him intensely. I chaffed him about this one day +and he admitted the snobbishness gaily. + +"I love even historic names, Frank, as Shakespeare did. Surely everyone prefers +Norfolk, Hamilton and Buckingham to Jones or Smith or Robinson." + +As soon as he lost his editorship he took to writing for the reviews; his +articles were merely the "resume" of his monologues. After talking for months +at this and that lunch and dinner he had amassed a store of epigrams and +humorous paradoxes which he could embody in a paper for "The Fortnightly Review" +or "The Nineteenth Century". + +These papers made it manifest that Wilde had at length, as Heine phrased it, +reached the topmost height of the culture of his time and was now able to say +new and interesting things. His "Lehrjahre" or student-time may be said to have +ended with his editorship. The articles which he wrote on "The Decay of Lying," +"The Critic as Artist," and "Pen, Pencil and Poison"; in fact, all the papers +which in 1891 were gathered together and published in book form under the title +of "Intentions," had about them the stamp of originality. They achieved a +noteworthy success with the best minds, and laid the foundation of his fame. +Every paper contained, here and there, a happy phrase, or epigram, or flirt of +humour, which made it memorable to the lover of letters. + +They were all, however, conceived and written from the standpoint of the artist, +and the artist alone, who never takes account of ethics, but uses right and +wrong indifferently as colours of his palette. "The Decay of Lying" seemed to +the ordinary, matter-of-fact Englishman a cynical plea in defence of mendacity. +To the majority of readers, "Pen, Pencil and Poison" was hardly more than a +shameful attempt to condone cold-blooded murder. The very articles which +grounded his fame as a writer, helped to injure his standing and repute. + +In 1889 he published a paper which did him even more damage by appearing to +justify the peculiar rumours about his private life. He held the opinion, +which was universal at that time, that Shakespeare had been abnormally vicious. +He believed with the majority of critics that Lord William Herbert was addressed +in the first series of Sonnets; but his fine sensibility or, if you will, his +peculiar temperament, led him to question whether Thorpe's dedication to +"Mr. W. H." could have been addressed to Lord William Herbert. He preferred +the old hypothesis that the dedication was addressed to a young actor named +Mr. William Hughes, a supposition which is supported by a well-known sonnet. +He set forth this idea with much circumstance and considerable ingenuity in an +article which he sent to me for publication in "The Fortnightly Review". The +theme was scabrous; but his treatment of it was scrupulously reserved and adroit +and I saw no offence in the paper, and to tell the truth, no great ability in +his handling of the subject. (confer Appendix: "Criticisms by Robert Ross.") + +He had talked over the article with me while he was writing it, and I told him +that I thought the whole theory completely mistaken. Shakespeare was as sensual +as one could well be; but there was no evidence of abnormal vice; indeed, all +the evidence seemed to me to be against this universal belief. The assumption +that the dedication was addressed to Lord William Herbert I had found it +difficult to accept, at first; the wording of it is not only ambiguous but +familiar. If I assumed that "Mr. W. H." was meant for Lord William Herbert, +it was only because that seemed the easiest way out of the maze. In fine, I +pointed out to Oscar that his theory had very little that was new in it, and +more that was untrue, and advised him not to publish the paper. My conviction +that Shakespeare was not abnormally vicious, and that the first series of +Sonnets proved snobbishness and toadying and not corrupt passion, seemed to +Oscar the very madness of partisanship. + +He smiled away my arguments, and sent his paper to the "Fortnightly" office when +I happened to be abroad. Much to my chagrin, my assistant rejected it rudely, +whereupon Oscar sent it to Blackwoods, who published it in their magazine. It +set everyone talking and arguing. To judge by the discussion it created, the +wind of hatred and of praise it caused, one would have thought that the paper +was a masterpiece, though in truth it was nothing out of the common. Had it +been written by anybody else it would have passed unnoticed. But already Oscar +Wilde had a prodigious notoriety, and all his sayings and doings were eagerly +canvassed from one end of society to the other. + +"The Portrait of Mr. W. H." did Oscar incalculable injury. It gave his enemies +for the first time the very weapon they wanted, and they used it unscrupulously +and untiringly with the fierce delight of hatred. Oscar seemed to revel in +the storm of conflicting opinions which the paper called forth. He understood +better than most men that notoriety is often the forerunner of fame and is +always commercially more valuable. He rubbed his hands with delight as the +discussion grew bitter, and enjoyed even the sneering of the envious. A wind +that blows out a little fire, he knew, plays bellows to a big one. So long as +people talked about him, he didn't much care what they said, and they certainly +talked interminably about everything he wrote. + +The inordinate popular success increased his self-confidence, and with time his +assurance took on a touch of defiance. The first startling sign of this +gradual change was the publication in "Lippincott's Magazine" of "The Picture +of Dorian Gray." It was attacked immediately in "The Daily Chronicle", a +liberal paper usually distinguished for a certain leaning in favour of artists +and men of letters, as a "tale spawned from the leprous literature of the French +"decadents"--a poisonous book, the atmosphere of which is heavy with the +mephitic odours of moral and spiritual putrefaction." + +Oscar as a matter of course replied and the tone of his reply is characteristic +of his growth in self-assurance: he no longer dreads the imputation of +viciousness; he challenges it: "It is poisonous, if you like; but you cannot +deny that it is also perfect, and perfection is what we artists aim at." + +When Oscar republished "The Picture of Dorian Gray" in book form in April, 1891, +he sent me a large paper copy and with the copy he wrote a little note, asking +me to tell him what I thought of the book. I got the volume and note early one +morning and read the book until noon. I then sent him a note by hand: "Other +men," I wrote, "have given us wine; some claret, some burgundy, some Moselle; +you are the first to give us pure champagne. Much of this book is wittier even +than Congreve and on an equal intellectual level: at length, it seems to me, you +have justified yourself." + +Half an hour later I was told that Oscar Wilde had called. I went down +immediately to see him. He was bubbling over with content. + +"How charming of you, Frank," he cried, "to have written me such a divine +letter." + +"I have only read a hundred pages of the book," I said; "but they are +delightful: no one now can deny you a place among the wittiest and most +humorous writers in English." + +"How wonderful of you, Frank; what do you like so much?" + +Like all artists, he loved praise and I was enthusiastic, happy to have the +opportunity of making up for some earlier doubting that now seemed unworthy: + +"Whatever the envious may say, you're with Burke and Sheridan, among the very +ablest Irishmen . . . . + +"Of course I have heard most of the epigrams from you before, but you have put +them even better in this book." + +"Do you think so, really?" he asked, smiling with pleasure. + +It is worth notice that some of the epigrams in "Dorian Gray" were bettered +again before they appeared in his first play. For example, in "Dorian Gray" +Lord Henry Wotton, who is peculiarly Oscar's mouthpiece, while telling how he +had to bargain for a piece of old brocade in Wardour Street, adds, "nowadays +people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." In "Lady +Windermere's Fan" the same epigram is perfected, "The cynic is one who knows +the price of everything and the value of nothing." + +Nearly all the literary productions of our time suffer from haste: one must +produce a good deal, especially while one's reputation is in the making, in +order to live by one's pen. Yet great works take time to form, and fine +creations are often disfigured by the stains of hurried parturition. Oscar +Wilde contrived to minimise this disability by talking his works before writing +them. + +The conversation of Lord Henry Wotton with his uncle, and again at lunch when +he wishes to fascinate Dorian Gray, is an excellent reproduction of Oscar's +ordinary talk. The uncle wonders why Lord Dartmoor wants to marry an American +and grumbles about her people: "Has she got any?" + +Lord Henry shook his head. "American girls are as clever at concealing their +parents as English women are at concealing their past," he said, rising to go. + +"They are pork-packers, I suppose?" + +"I hope so, Uncle George, for Dartmoor's sake. I am told that pork-packing is +the most lucrative profession in America, after politics." + +All this seems to me delightful humour. + +The latter part of the book, however, tails off into insignificance. The first +hundred pages held the result of months and months of Oscar's talk, the latter +half was written offhand to complete the story. "Dorian Gray" was the first +piece of work which proved that Oscar Wilde had at length found his true vein. + +A little study of it discovers both his strength and his weakness as a writer. +The initial idea of the book is excellent, finer because deeper than the +commonplace idea that is the foundation of Balzac's "Peau de Chagrin," though +it would probably never have been written if Balzac had not written his +book first; but Balzac's sincerity and earnestness grapple with the theme and +wring a blessing out of it, whereas the subtler idea in Oscar's hands dwindles +gradually away till one wonders if the book would not have been more effective +as a short story. Oscar did not know life well enough or care enough for +character to write a profound psychological study: he was at his best in a +short story or play. + +One day about this time Oscar first showed me the aphorisms he had written as an +introduction to "Dorian Gray." Several of them I thought excellent; but I found +that Oscar had often repeated himself. I cut these repetitions out and tried to +show him how much better the dozen best were than eighteen of which six were +inferior. I added that I should like to publish the best in "The Fortnightly." +He thanked me and said it was very kind of me. + +Next morning I got a letter from him telling me that he had read over my +corrections and thought that the aphorisms I had rejected were the best, but +he hoped I'd publish them as he had written them. + +Naturally I replied that the final judgment must rest with him and I published +them at once. + +The delight I felt in his undoubted genius and success was not shared by others. +Friends took occasion to tell me that I should not go about with Oscar Wilde. + +"Why not?" I asked. + +"He has a bad name," was the reply. "Strange things are said about him. He +came down from Oxford with a vile reputation. You have only got to look at +the man." + +"Whatever the disease may be," I replied, "it's not catching--unfortunately." + +The pleasure men take in denigration of the gifted is one of the puzzles of life +to those who are not envious. + +Men of letters, even people who ought to have known better, were slow to admit +his extraordinary talent; he had risen so quickly, had been puffed into such +prominence that they felt inclined to deny him even the gifts which he +undoubtedly possessed. I was surprised once to find a friend of mine taking +this attitude: Francis Adams, the poet and writer, chaffed me one day about my +liking for Oscar. + +"What on earth can you see in him to admire?" he asked. "He is not a great +writer, he is not even a good writer; his books have no genius in them; his +poetry is tenth rate, and his prose is not much better. His talk even is +fictitious and extravagant." + +I could only laugh at him and advise him to read "The Picture of Dorian Gray." + +This book, however, gave Oscar's puritanic enemies a better weapon against him +than even "The Portrait of Mr. W. H." The subject, they declared, was the same +as that of "Mr. W. H.," and the treatment was simply loathsome. More than one +middle-class paper, such as "To-Day" in the hands of Mr. Jerome K. Jerome, +condemned the book as "corrupt," and advised its suppression. Freedom of speech +in England is more feared than licence of action: a speck on the outside of the +platter disgusts your puritan, and the inside is never peeped at, much less +discussed. + +Walter Pater praised "Dorian Gray" in the "Bookman"; but thereby only did +himself damage without helping his friend. Oscar meanwhile went about boldly, +meeting criticism now with smiling contempt. + +One incident from this time will show how unfairly he was being judged and how +imprudent he was to front defamation with defiance. + +One day I met a handsome youth in his company named John Gray, and I could not +wonder that Oscar found him interesting, for Gray had not only great personal +distinction, but charming manners and a marked poetic gift, a much greater gift +than Oscar possessed. He had besides an eager, curious mind, and of course +found extraordinary stimulus in Oscar's talk. It seemed to me that intellectual +sympathy and the natural admiration which a younger man feels for a brilliant +senior formed the obvious bond between them. But no sooner did Oscar republish +"Dorian Gray" than ill-informed and worse-minded persons went about saying that +the eponymous hero of the book was John Gray, though "Dorian Gray" was written +before Oscar had met or heard of John Gray. One cannot help admitting that this +was partly Oscar's own fault. In talk he often alluded laughingly to John Gray +as his hero, "Dorian." It is just an instance of the challenging contempt which +he began to use about this time in answer to the inventions of hatred. + +Late in this year, 1891, he published four stories completely void of offence, +calling the collection "A House of Pomegranates." He dedicated each of the +tales to a lady of distinction and the book made many friends; but it was +handled contemptuously in the press and had no sale. + +By this time people expected a certain sort of book from Oscar Wilde and wanted +nothing else. They hadn't to wait long. Early in 1892 we heard that Oscar had +written a drama in French called "Salome", and at once it was put about that +Sarah Bernhardt was going to produce it in London. Then came dramatic surprise +on surprise: while it was being rehearsed, the Lord Chamberlain refused to +license it on the ground that it introduced Biblical characters. Oscar +protested in a brilliant interview against the action of the Censor as "odious +and ridiculous." He pointed out that all the greatest artists--painters and +sculptors, musicians and writers--had taken many of their best subjects from the +Bible, and wanted to know why the dramatist should be prevented from treating +the great soul-tragedies most proper to his art. When informed that the +interdict was to stand, he declared in a pet that he would settle in France and +take out letters of naturalisation: + +"I am not English. I am Irish--which is quite another thing." Of course the +press made all the fun it could of his show of temper. + +Mr. Robert Ross considers "Salome" "the most powerful and perfect of all Oscar's +dramas." I find it almost impossible to explain, much less justify, its +astonishing popularity. When it appeared, the press, both in France and in +England, was critical and contemptuous; but by this time Oscar had so captured +the public that he could afford to disdain critics and calumny. The play was +praised by his admirers as if it had been a masterpiece, and London discussed it +the more because it was in French and not clapper-clawed by the vulgar. + +The indescribable cold lewdness and cruelty of "Salome" quickened the prejudice +and strengthened the dislike of the ordinary English reader for its author. And +when the drama was translated into English and published with the drawings of +Aubrey Beardsley, it was disparaged and condemned by all the leaders of literary +opinion. The colossal popularity of the play, which Mr. Robert Ross proves so +triumphantly, came from Germany and Russia and is to be attributed in part to +the contempt educated Germans and Russians feel for the hypocritical vagaries of +English prudery. The illustrations of Aubrey Beardsley, too, it must be +admitted, were an additional offence to the ordinary English reader, for they +intensified the peculiar atmosphere of the drama. + +Oscar used to say that he invented Aubrey Beardsley; but the truth is, it was +Mr. Robert Ross who first introduced Aubrey to Oscar and persuaded him to +commission the "Salome" drawings which gave the English edition its singular +value. Strange to say, Oscar always hated the illustrations and would not have +the book in his house. His dislike even extended to the artist, and as Aubrey +Beardsley was of easy and agreeable intercourse, the mutual repulsion deserves a +word of explanation. + +Aubrey Beardsley's genius had taken London by storm. At seventeen or eighteen +this auburn-haired, blue-eyed, fragile looking youth had reached maturity with +his astounding talent, a talent which would have given him position and wealth +in any other country. In perfection of line his drawings were superior to +anything we possess. But the curious thing about the boy was that he expressed +the passions of pride and lust and cruelty more intensely even than Rops, [sic] +more spontaneously than anyone who ever held pencil. Beardsley's precocity was +simply marvellous. He seemed to have an intuitive understanding not only of his +own art but of every art and craft, and it was some time before one realised +that he attained this miraculous virtuosity by an absolute disdain for every +other form of human endeavour. He knew nothing of the great general or +millionaire or man of science, and he cared as little for them as for fishermen +or 'bus-drivers. The current of his talent ran narrow between stone banks, so +to speak; it was the bold assertion of it that interested Oscar. + +One phase of Beardsley's extraordinary development may be recorded here. When I +first met him his letters, and even his talk sometimes, were curiously youthful +and immature, lacking altogether the personal note of his drawings. As soon as +this was noticed he took the bull by the horns and pretended that his style in +writing was out of date; he wished us to believe that he hesitated to shock +us with his "archaic sympathies." Of course we laughed and challenged him to +reveal himself. Shortly afterwards I got an article from him written with +curious felicity of phrase, in modish polite eighteenth-century English. He had +reached personal expression in a new medium in a month or so, and apparently +without effort. It was Beardsley's writing that first won Oscar to recognition +of his talent, and for a while he seemed vaguely interested in what he called +his "orchid-like personality." + +They were both at lunch one day when Oscar declared that he could drink nothing +but absinthe when Beardsley was present. + +"Absinthe," he said, "is to all other drinks what Aubrey's drawings are to +other pictures: it stands alone: it is like nothing else: it shimmers like +southern twilight in opalescent colouring: it has about it the seduction of +strange sins. It is stronger than any other spirit, and brings out the sub- +conscious self in man. It is just like your drawings, Aubrey; it gets on one's +nerves and is cruel. + +"Baudelaire called his poems "Fleurs du Mal," I shall call your drawings "Fleurs +du Peche"--flowers of sin. + +"When I have before me one of your drawings I want to drink absinthe, which +changes colour like jade in sunlight and takes the senses thrall, and then I can +live myself back in imperial Rome, in the Rome of the later Caesars." + +"Don't forget the simple pleasures of that life, Oscar," said Aubrey; "Nero set +Christians on fire, like large tallow candles; the only light Christians have +ever been known to give," he added in a languid, gentle voice. + +This talk gave me the key. In personal intercourse Oscar Wilde was more English +than the English: he seldom expressed his opinion of person or prejudice boldly; +he preferred to hint dislike and disapproval. His insistence on the naked +expression of lust and cruelty in Beardsley's drawings showed me that direct +frankness displeased him; for he could hardly object to the qualities which were +making his own "Salome" world-famous. + +The complete history of the relations between Oscar Wilde and Beardsley, and +their mutual dislike, merely proves how difficult it is for original artists to +appreciate one another: like mountain peaks they stand alone. Oscar showed a +touch of patronage, the superiority of the senior, in his intercourse with +Beardsley, and often praised him ineptly, whereas Beardsley to the last spoke +of Oscar as a showman, and hoped drily that he knew more about literature than +he did about art. For a moment, they worked in concert, and it is important +to remember that it was Beardsley who influenced Oscar, and not Oscar who +influenced Beardsley. Beardsley's contempt of critics and the public, his +artistic boldness and self-assertion, had a certain hardening influence on +Oscar: as things turned out a most unfortunate influence. + +In spite of Mr. Robert Ross's opinion I regard "Salome," as a student work, an +outcome of Oscar's admiration for Flaubert and his "Herodias," on the one hand, +and "Les Sept Princesses," of Maeterlinck on the other. He has borrowed the +colour and Oriental cruelty with the banquet-scene from the Frenchman, and from +the Fleming the simplicity of language and the haunting effect produced by +the repetition of significant phrases. Yet "Salome" is original through the +mingling of lust and hatred in the heroine, and by making this extraordinary +virgin the chief and centre of the drama Oscar has heightened the interest of +the story and bettered Flaubert's design. I feel sure he copied Maeterlinck's +simplicity of style because it served to disguise his imperfect knowledge of +French and yet this very artlessness adds to the weird effect of the drama. + +The lust that inspires the tragedy was characteristic, but the cruelty was +foreign to Oscar; both qualities would have injured him in England, had it +not been for two things. First of all only a few of the best class of English +people know French at all well, and for the most part they disdain the sex- +morality of their race; while the vast mass of the English public regard French +as in itself an immoral medium and is inclined to treat anything in that tongue +with contemptuous indifference. One can only say that "Salome" confirmed +Oscar's growing reputation for abnormal viciousness. + +It was in 1892 that some of Oscar's friends struck me for the first time as +questionable, to say the best of them. I remember giving a little dinner to +some men in rooms I had in Jermyn Street. I invited Oscar, and he brought a +young friend with him. After dinner I noticed that the youth was angry with +Oscar and would scarcely speak to him, and that Oscar was making up to him. +I heard snatches of pleading from Oscar--"I beg of you . . . . It is not true +. . . . You have no cause" . . . . All the while Oscar was standing apart from +the rest of us with an arm on the young man's shoulder; but his coaxing was in +vain, the youth turned away with petulant, sullen ill-temper. This is a mere +snap-shot which remained in my memory, and made me ask myself afterwards how I +could have been so slow of understanding. + +Looking back and taking everything into consideration--his social success, the +glare of publicity in which he lived, the buzz of talk and discussion that arose +about everything he did and said, the increasing interest and value of his work +and, above all, the ever-growing boldness of his writing and the challenge of +his conduct--it is not surprising that the black cloud of hate and slander which +attended him persistently became more and more threatening. + + + + +CHAPTER IX--THE SUMMER OF SUCCESS: OSCAR'S FIRST PLAY + + + +No season, it is said, is so beautiful as the brief northern summer. Three- +fourths of the year is cold and dark, and the ice-bound landscape is swept by +snowstorm and blizzard. Summer comes like a goddess; in a twinkling the snow +vanishes and Nature puts on her robes of tenderest green; the birds arrive in +flocks; flowers spring to life on all sides, and the sun shines by night as by +day. Such a summertide, so beautiful and so brief, was accorded to Oscar Wilde +before the final desolation. + +I want to give a picture of him at the topmost height of happy hours, which will +afford some proof of his magical talent of speech besides my own appreciation of +it, and, fortunately, the incident has been given to me. Mr. Ernest Beckett, +now Lord Grimthorpe, a lover of all superiorities, who has known the ablest +men of the time, takes pleasure in telling a story which shows Oscar Wilde's +influence over men who were anything but literary in their tastes. Mr. Beckett +had a party of Yorkshire squires, chiefly fox-hunters and lovers of an outdoor +life, at Kirkstall Grange when he heard that Oscar Wilde was in the neighbouring +town of Leeds. Immediately he asked him to lunch at the Grange, chuckling to +himself beforehand at the sensational novelty of the experiment. Next day +"Mr. Oscar Wilde" was announced and as he came into the room the sportsmen +forthwith began hiding themselves behind newspapers or moving together in groups +in order to avoid seeing or being introduced to the notorious writer. Oscar +shook hands with his host as if he had noticed nothing, and began to talk. + +"In five minutes," Grimthorpe declares, "all the papers were put down and +everyone had gathered round him to listen and laugh." + +At the end of the meal one Yorkshireman after the other begged the host to +follow the lunch with a dinner and invite them to meet the wonder again. When +the party broke up in the small hours they all went away delighted with Oscar, +vowing that no man ever talked more brilliantly. Grimthorpe cannot remember a +single word Oscar said: "It was all delightful," he declares, "a play of genial +humour over every topic that came up, like sunshine dancing on waves." + +The extraordinary thing about Oscar's talent was that he did not monopolise the +conversation: he took the ball of talk wherever it happened to be at the moment +and played with it so humorously that everyone was soon smiling delightedly. +The famous talkers of the past, Coleridge, Macaulay, Carlyle and the others, +were all lecturers: talk to them was a discourse on a favourite theme, and in +ordinary life they were generally regarded as bores. But at his best Oscar +Wilde never dropped the tone of good society: he could afford to give place to +others; he was equipped at all points: no subject came amiss to him: he saw +everything from a humorous angle, and dazzled one now with word-wit, now with +the very stuff of merriment. + +Though he was the life and soul of every social gathering, and in constant +demand, he still read omnivorously, and his mind naturally occupied itself +with high themes. + +For some years, the story of Jesus fascinated him and tinged all his thought. +We were talking about Renan's "Life" one day: a wonderful book he called it, one +of the three great biographies of the world, Plato's dialogues with Socrates as +hero and Boswell's "Life of Johnson" being the other two. It was strange, he +thought, that the greatest man had written the worst biography; Plato made of +Socrates a mere phonograph, into which he talked his own theories: Renan did +better work, and Boswell, the humble loving friend, the least talented of the +three, did better still, though being English, he had to keep to the surface of +things and leave the depths to be divined. Oscar evidently expected Plato and +Renan to have surpassed comparison. + +It seemed to me, however, that the illiterate Galilean fishermen had proved +themselves still more consummate painters than Boswell, though they, too, left a +great deal too much to the imagination. Love is the best of artists; the puddle +of rain in the road can reflect a piece of sky marvellously. + +The Gospel story had a personal interest for Oscar; he was always weaving little +fables about himself as the Master. + +In spite of my ignorance of Hebrew the story of Jesus had always had the +strongest attraction for me, and so we often talked about Him, though from +opposite poles. + +Renan I felt had missed Jesus at his highest. He was far below the sincerity, +the tenderness and sweet-thoughted wisdom of that divine spirit. Frenchman- +like, he stumbled over the miracles and came to grief. Claus Sluter's head of +Jesus in the museum of Dijon is a finer portrait, and so is the imaginative +picture of Fra Angelico. It seemed to me possible to do a sketch from the +Gospels themselves which should show the growth of the soul of Jesus and so +impose itself as a true portrait. + +Oscar's interest in the theme was different; he put himself frankly in the +place of his model, and appeared to enjoy the jarring antinomy which resulted. +One or two of his stories were surprising in ironical suggestion; surprising +too because they showed his convinced paganism. Here is one which reveals his +exact position: + +"When Joseph of Arimathea came down in the evening from Mount Calvary where +Jesus had died he saw on a white stone a young man seated weeping. And Joseph +went near him and said, 'I understand how great thy grief must be, for certainly +that Man was a just Man.' But the young man made answer, 'Oh, it is not for that +I am weeping. I am weeping because I too have wrought miracles. I also have +given sight to the blind, I have healed the palsied and I have raised the dead; +I too have caused the barren fig tree to wither away and I have turned water +into wine . . . and yet they have not crucified me.'" + +At the time this apologue amused me; in the light of later events it assumed a +tragic significance. Oscar Wilde ought to have known that in this world every +real superiority is pursued with hatred, and every worker of miracles is sure +to be persecuted. But he had no inkling that the Gospel story is symbolic--the +life-story of genius for all time, eternally true. He never looked outside +himself, and as the fruits of success were now sweet in his mouth, a pursuing +Fate seemed to him the most mythical of myths. His child-like self-confidence +was pathetic. The laws that govern human affairs had little interest for the +man who was always a law unto himself. Yet by some extraordinary prescience, +some inexplicable presentiment, the approaching catastrophe cast its shadow +over his mind and he felt vaguely that the life-journey of genius would be +incomplete and farcical without the final tragedy: whoever lives for the highest +must be crucified. + +It seems memorable to me that in this brief summer of his life, Oscar Wilde +should have concerned himself especially with the life-story of the Man of +Sorrows who had sounded all the depths of suffering. Just when he himself was +about to enter the Dark Valley, Jesus was often in his thoughts and he always +spoke of Him with admiration. But after all how could he help it? Even Dekker +saw as far as that: + + "The best of men +That e'er wore earth about Him." + +This was the deeper strain in Oscar Wilde's nature though he was always +disinclined to show it. Habitually he lived in humorous talk, in the epithets +and epigrams he struck out in the desire to please and astonish his hearers. + +One evening I learned almost by chance that he was about to try a new experiment +and break into a new field. + +He took up the word "lose" at the table, I remember. + +"We lose our chances," he said, laughing, "we lose our figures, we even lose +our characters; but we must never lose our temper. That is our duty to our +neighbour, Frank; but sometimes we mislay it, don't we?" + +"Is that going in a book, Oscar?" I asked, smiling, "or in an article? You have +written nothing lately." + +"I have a play in my mind," he replied gravely. "To-morrow I am going to +shut myself up in my room, and stay there until it is written. George Alexander +has been bothering me to write a play for some time and I've got an idea +I rather like. I wonder can I do it in a week, or will it take three? It +ought not to take long to beat the Pineros and the Joneses." It always annoyed +Oscar when any other name but his came into men's mouths: his vanity was +extraordinarily alert. + +Naturally enough he minimised Mr. Alexander's initiative. The well-known actor +had "bothered" Oscar by advancing him L100 before the scenario was even +outlined. A couple of months later he told me that Alexander had accepted +his comedy, and was going to produce "Lady Windermere's Fan." I thought the +title excellent. + +"Territorial names," Oscar explained, gravely, "have always a "cachet" of +distinction: they fall on the ear full toned with secular dignity. That's how +I get all the names of my personages, Frank. I take up a map of the English +counties, and there they are. Our English villages have often exquisitely +beautiful names. Windermere, for instance, or Hunstanton," and he rolled the +syllables over his tongue with a soft sensual pleasure. + +I had a box the first night and, thinking it might do Oscar some good, I took +with me Arthur Walter of "The Times". The first scene of the first act was as +old as the hills, but the treatment gave charm to it if not freshness. The +delightful, unexpected humour set off the commonplace incident; but it was only +the convention that Arthur Walter would see. The play was poor, he thought, +which brought me to wonder. + +After the first act I went downstairs to the "foyer" and found the critics in +much the same mind. There was an enormous gentleman called Joseph Knight, who +cried out: + +"The humour is mechanical, unreal." Seeing that I did not respond he challenged +me: + +"What do you think of it?" + +"That is for you critics to answer," I replied. + +"I might say," he laughed, "in Oscar's own peculiar way, 'Little promise and +less performance.' Ha! ha! ha!" + +"That's the exact opposite to Oscar's way," I retorted. "It is the listeners +who laugh at his humour." + +"Come now, really," cried Knight, "you cannot think much of the play?" + +For the first time in my life I began to realise that nine critics out of ten +are incapable of judging original work. They seem to live in a sort of fog, +waiting for someone to give them the lead, and accordingly they love to discuss +every new play right and left. + +"I have not seen the whole play," I answered. "I was not at any of the +rehearsals; but so far it is surely the best comedy in English, the most +brilliant: isn't it?" + +The big man started back and stared at me; then burst out laughing. + +"That's good," he cried with a loud unmirthful guffaw. "'Lady Windermere's Fan' +better than any comedy of Shakespeare! Ha! ha! ha! 'more brilliant!' ho! ho!" + +"Yes," I persisted, angered by his disdain, "wittier, and more humorous than 'As +You Like It,' or 'Much Ado.' Strange to say, too, it is on a higher intellectual +level. I can only compare it to the best of Congreve, and I think it's better." +With a grunt of disapproval or rage the great man of the daily press turned away +to exchange bleatings with one of his "confreres". + +The audience was a picked audience of the best heads in London, far superior in +brains therefore to the average journalist, and their judgment was that it was a +most brilliant and interesting play. Though the humour was often prepared, the +construction showed a rare mastery of stage-effect. Oscar Wilde had at length +come into his kingdom. + +At the end the author was called for, and Oscar appeared before the curtain. +The house rose at him and cheered and cheered again. He was smiling, with a +cigarette between his fingers, wholly master of himself and his audience. + +"I am so glad, ladies and gentlemen, that you like my play. (confer Appendix: +"Criticisms by Robert Ross.") I feel sure you estimate the merits of it almost +as highly as I do myself." + +The house rocked with laughter. The play and its humour were a seven days' +wonder in London. People talked of nothing but "Lady Windermere's Fan." +The witty words in it ran from lip to lip like a tidbit of scandal. Some +clever Jewesses and, strange to say, one Scotchman were the loudest in applause. +Mr. Archer, the well-known critic of "The World", was the first and only +journalist to perceive that the play was a classic by virtue of "genuine +dramatic qualities." Mrs. Leverson turned the humorous sayings into current +social coin in "Punch", of all places in the world, and from a favourite Oscar +Wilde rapidly became the idol of smart London. + +The play was an intellectual triumph. This time Oscar had not only won success +but had won also the suffrages of the best. Nearly all the journalist-critics +were against him and made themselves ridiculous by their brainless strictures; +"Truth" and "The Times", for example, were poisonously puritanic, but thinking +people came over to his side in a body. The halo of fame was about him, and the +incense of it in his nostrils made him more charming, more irresponsibly gay, +more genial-witty than ever. He was as one set upon a pinnacle with the +sunshine playing about him, lighting up his radiant eyes. All the while, +however, the foul mists from the underworld were wreathing about him, climbing +higher and higher. + + + + +CHAPTER X--THE FIRST MEETING WITH LORD ALFRED DOUGLAS + + + +Thou hast led me like an heathen sacrifice, With music and with fatal pomp of +flowers, To my eternal ruin.--Webster's "The White Devil". + +"Lady Windermere's Fan" was a success in every sense of the word, and during +its run London was at Oscar's feet. There were always a few doors closed to +him; but he could afford now to treat his critics with laughter, call them +fogies and old-fashioned and explain that they had not a decalogue but a +millelogue of sins forbidden and persons tabooed because it was easier to +condemn than to understand. + +I remember a lunch once when he talked most brilliantly and finished up by +telling the story now published in his works as "A Florentine Tragedy." He +told it superbly, making it appear far more effective than in its written form. +A well-known actor, piqued at being compelled to play listener, made himself +ridiculous by half turning his back on the narrator. But after lunch Willie +Grenfell (now Lord Desborough), a model English athlete gifted with peculiar +intellectual fairness, came round to me: + +"Oscar Wilde is most surprising, most charming, a wonderful talker." + +At the same moment Mr. K. H---- came over to us. He was a man who went +everywhere and knew everyone. He had quiet, ingratiating manners, always spoke +in a gentle smiling way and had a good word to say for everyone, especially for +women; he was a bachelor, too, and wholly unattached. He surprised me by taking +up Grenfell's praise and breaking into a lyric: + +"The best talker who ever lived," he said; "most extraordinary. I am so +infinitely obliged to you for asking me to meet him--a new delight. He brings a +supernal air into life. I am in truth indebted to you"--all this in an affected +purring tone. I noticed for the first time that there was a touch of rouge on +his face; Grenfell turned away from us rather abruptly I thought. + +At this first roseate dawn of complete success and universal applause, new +qualities came to view in Oscar. Praise gave him the fillip needed in order +to make him surpass himself. His talk took on a sort of autumnal richness +of colour, and assumed a new width of range; he now used pathos as well as +humour and generally brought in a story or apologue to lend variety to the +entertainment. His little weaknesses, too, began to show themselves and they +grew rankly in the sunshine. He always wanted to do himself well, as the phrase +goes, but now he began to eat and drink more freely than before. His vanity +became defiant. I noticed one day that he had signed himself, Oscar O'Flahertie +Wilde, I think under some verses which he had contributed years before to his +College magazine. I asked him jokingly what the O'Flahertie stood for. To my +astonishment he answered me gravely: + +"The O'Flaherties were kings in Ireland, and I have a right to the name; I am +descended from them." + +I could not help it; I burst out laughing. + +"What are you laughing at, Frank?" he asked with a touch of annoyance. + +"It seems humorous to me," I explained, "that Oscar Wilde should want to be +an O'Flahertie," and as I spoke a picture of the greatest of the O'Flaherties, +with bushy head and dirty rags, warming enormous hairy legs before a smoking +peat-fire, flashed before me. I think something of the sort must have +occurred to Oscar, too, for, in spite of his attempt to be grave, he could not +help laughing. + +"It's unkind of you, Frank," he said. "The Irish were civilised and Christians +when the English kept themselves warm with tattooings." + +He could not help telling one in familiar talk of Clumber or some other great +house where he had been visiting; he was intoxicated with his own popularity, +a little surprised, perhaps, to find that he had won fame so easily and on the +primrose path, but one could forgive him everything, for he talked more +delightfully than ever. + +It is almost inexplicable, but nevertheless true that life tries all of us, +tests every weak point to breaking, and sets off and exaggerates our powers. +Burns saw this when he wrote: + +"Wha does the utmost that he can Will whyles do mair." + +And the obverse is true: whoever yields to a weakness habitually, some day +goes further than he ever intended, and comes to worse grief than he deserved. +The old prayer: "Lead us not into temptation", is perhaps a half-conscious +recognition of this fact. But we moderns are inclined to walk heedlessly, no +longer believing in pitfalls or in the danger of gratified desires. And Oscar +Wilde was not only an unbeliever; but he had all the heedless confidence of the +artist who has won world-wide popularity and has the halo of fame on his brow. +With high heart and smiling eyes he went to his fate unsuspecting. + +It was in the autumn of 1891 that he first met Lord Alfred Douglas. He was +thirty-six and Lord Alfred Douglas a handsome, slim youth of twenty-one, with +large blue eyes and golden-fair hair. His mother, the Dowager Lady Queensberry, +preserves a photograph of him taken a few years before, when he was still at +Winchester, a boy of sixteen with an expression which might well be called +angelic. + +When I met him, he was still girlishly pretty, with the beauty of youth, +coloring and fair skin; though his features were merely ordinary. It was +Lionel Johnson, the writer, a friend and intimate of Douglas at Winchester, who +brought him to tea at Oscar's house in Tite Street. Their mutual attraction had +countless hooks. Oscar was drawn by the lad's personal beauty, and enormously +affected besides by Lord Alfred Douglas' name and position: he was a snob as +only an English artist can be a snob; he loved titular distinctions, and Douglas +is one of the few great names in British history with the gilding of romance +about it. No doubt Oscar talked better than his best because he was talking to +Lord Alfred Douglas. To the last the mere name rolled on his tongue gave him +extraordinary pleasure. Besides, the boy admired him, hung upon his lips with +his soul in his eyes; showed, too, rare intelligence in his appreciation, +confessed that he himself wrote verses and loved letters passionately. Could +more be desired than perfection perfected? + +And Alfred Douglas on his side was almost as powerfully attracted; he had +inherited from his mother all her literary tastes--and more: he was already a +master-poet with a singing faculty worthy to be compared with the greatest. +What wonder if he took this magical talker, with the luminous eyes and charming +voice, and a range and play of thought beyond his imagining, for a world's +miracle, one of the Immortals. Before he had listened long, I have been told, +the youth declared his admiration passionately. They were an extraordinary pair +and were complementary in a hundred ways, not only in mind, but in character. +Oscar had reached originality of thought and possessed the culture of +scholarship, while Alfred Douglas had youth and rank and beauty, besides +being as articulate as a woman with an unsurpassable gift of expression. +Curiously enough, Oscar was as yielding and amiable in character as the boy +was self-willed, reckless, obstinate and imperious. + +Years later Oscar told me that from the first he dreaded Alfred Douglas' +aristocratic, insolent boldness: + +"He frightened me, Frank, as much as he attracted me, and I held away from him. +But he wouldn't have it; he sought me out again and again and I couldn't resist +him. That is my only fault. That's what ruined me. He increased my expenses +so that I could not meet them; over and over again I tried to free myself from +him; but he came back and I yielded--alas!" + +Though this is Oscar's later gloss on what actually happened, it is fairly +accurate. He was never able to realise how his meeting with Lord Alfred Douglas +had changed the world to him and him to the world. The effect on the harder +fibre of the boy was chiefly mental: to Alfred Douglas, Oscar was merely a +quickening, inspiring, intellectual influence; but the boy's effect on Oscar was +of character and induced imitation. Lord Alfred Douglas' boldness gave Oscar +"outre-cuidance", an insolent arrogance: artist-like he tried to outdo his +model in aristocratic disdain. Without knowing the cause the change in Oscar +astonished me again and again, and in the course of this narrative I shall have +to notice many instances of it. + +One other effect the friendship had of far-reaching influence. Oscar always +enjoyed good living; but for years he had had to earn his bread: he knew the +value of money; he didn't like to throw it away; he was accustomed to lunch or +dine at a cheap Italian restaurant for a few shillings. But to Lord Alfred +Douglas money was only a counter and the most luxurious living a necessity. As +soon as Oscar Wilde began to entertain him, he was led to the dearest hotels and +restaurants; his expenses became formidable and soon outran his large earnings. +For the first time since I had known him he borrowed heedlessly right and left, +and had, therefore, to bring forth play after play with scant time for thought. + +Lord Alfred Douglas has declared recently: + +"I spent much more in entertaining Oscar Wilde than he did in entertaining me"; +but this is preposterous self-deception. An earlier confession of his was much +nearer the truth: "It was a sweet humiliation to me to let Oscar Wilde pay for +everything and to ask him for money." + +There can be no doubt that Lord Alfred Douglas' habitual extravagance kept Oscar +Wilde hard up, and drove him to write without intermission. + +There were other and worse results of the intimacy which need not be exposed +here in so many words, though they must be indicated; for they derived of +necessity from that increased self-assurance which has already been recorded. +As Oscar devoted himself to Lord Alfred Douglas and went about with him +continually, he came to know his friends and his familiars, and went less into +society so-called. Again and again Lord Alfred Douglas flaunted acquaintance +with youths of the lowest class; but no one knew him or paid much attention to +him; Oscar Wilde, on the other hand, was already a famous personage whose every +movement provoked comment. From this time on the rumours about Oscar took +definite form and shaped themselves in specific accusations: his enemies began +triumphantly to predict his ruin and disgrace. + +Everything is known in London society; like water on sand the truth spreads +wider and wider as it gradually filters lower. The "smart set" in London has +almost as keen a love of scandal as a cathedral town. About this time one heard +of a dinner which Oscar Wilde had given at a restaurant in Soho, which was said +to have degenerated into a sort of Roman orgy. I was told of a man who tried to +get money by blackmailing him in his own house. I shrugged my shoulders at all +these scandals, and asked the talebearers what had been said about Shakespeare +to make him rave as he raved again and again against "back-wounding calumny"; +and when they persisted in their malicious stories I could do nothing but show +disbelief. Though I saw but little of Oscar during the first year or so of his +intimacy with Lord Alfred Douglas, one scene from this time filled me with +suspicion and an undefined dread. + +I was in a corner of the Cafe Royal one night downstairs, playing chess, and, +while waiting for my opponent to move, I went out just to stretch my legs. When +I returned I found Oscar throned in the very corner, between two youths. Even +to my short-sighted eyes they appeared quite common: in fact they looked like +grooms. In spite of their vulgar appearance, however, one was nice looking in a +fresh boyish way; the other seemed merely depraved. Oscar greeted me as usual, +though he seemed slightly embarrassed. I resumed my seat, which was almost +opposite him, and pretended to be absorbed in the game. To my astonishment he +was talking as well as if he had had a picked audience; talking, if you please, +about the Olympic games, telling how the youths wrestled and were scraped with +strigulae and threw the discus and ran races and won the myrtle-wreath. His +impassioned eloquence brought the sun-bathed palaestra before one with a magic +of representment. Suddenly the younger of the boys asked: + +"Did you sy they was niked?" + +"Of course," Oscar replied, "nude, clothed only in sunshine and beauty." + +"Oh, my," giggled the lad in his unspeakable Cockney way. I could not stand it. + +"I am in an impossible position," I said to my opponent, who was the amateur +chess player, Montagu Gattie. "Come along and let us have some dinner." With a +nod to Oscar I left the place. On the way out Gattie said to me: + +"So that's the famous Oscar Wilde." + +"Yes," I replied, "that's Oscar, but I never saw him in such company before." + +"Didn't you?" remarked Gattie quietly; "he was well known at Oxford. I was at +the 'Varsity with him. His reputation was always rather--"'high,'" shall we +call it?" + +I wanted to forget the scene and blot it out of my memory, and remember my +friend as I knew him at his best. But that Cockney boy would not be banned; +he leered there with rosy cheeks, hair plastered down in a love-lock on his +forehead, and low cunning eyes. I felt uncomfortable. I would not think of +it. I recalled the fact that in all our talks I had never heard Oscar use a +gross word. His mind, I said to myself, is like Spenser's, vowed away from +coarseness and vulgarity: he's the most perfect intellectual companion in the +world. He may have wanted to talk to the boys just to see what effect his talk +would have on them. His vanity is greedy enough to desire even such applause as +theirs. . . . . Of course, that was the explanation--vanity. My affection for +him, tormented by doubt, had found at length a satisfactory solution. It was +the artist in him, I said to myself, that wanted a model. + +But why not boys of his own class? The answer suggested itself; boys of his own +class could teach him nothing; his own boyhood would supply him with all the +necessary information about well-bred youth. But if he wanted a gutter-snipe in +one of his plays, he would have to find a gutter-lad and paint him from life. +That was probably the truth, I concluded. So satisfied was I with my discovery +that I developed it to Gattie; but he would not hear of it. + +"Gattie has nothing of the artist in him," I decided, "and therefore cannot +understand." And I went on arguing, if Gattie were right, why "two" boys? +It seemed evident to me that my reading of the riddle was the only plausible +one. Besides it left my affection unaffected and free. Still, the giggle, the +plastered oily hair and the venal leering eyes came back to me again and again +in spite of myself. + + + + +CHAPTER XI--THE THREATENING CLOUD DRAWS NEARER + + + +There is a secret apprehension in man counselling sobriety and moderation, +a fear born of expediency distinct from conscience, which is ethical; though +it seems to be closely connected with conscience acting, as it does, by +warnings and prohibitions. The story of Polycrates and his ring is a symbol +of the instinctive feeling that extraordinary good fortune is perilous and +can not endure. + +A year or so after the first meeting between Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas +I heard that they were being pestered on account of some amorous letters which +had been stolen from them. There was talk of blackmail and hints of an +interesting exposure. + +Towards the end of the year it was announced that Lord Alfred Douglas had gone +to Egypt; but this "flight into Egypt," as it was wittily called, was gilded +by the fact that a little later he was appointed an honorary attache to Lord +Cromer. I regarded his absence as a piece of good fortune, for when he was in +London, Oscar had no time to himself, and was seen in public with associates +he would have done better to avoid. Time and again he had praised Lord Alfred +Douglas to me as a charming person, a poet, and had grown lyrical about his +violet eyes and honey-coloured hair. I knew nothing of Lord Alfred Douglas, +and had no inkling of his poetic talent. I did not like several of Oscar's +particular friends, and I had a special dislike for the father of Lord Alfred +Douglas. I knew Queensberry rather well. I was a member of the old Pelican +Club, and I used to go there frequently for a talk with Tom, Dick or Harry, +about athletics, or for a game of chess with George Edwards. Queensberry was +there almost every night, and someone introduced me to him. I was eager to +know him because he had surprised me. At some play ("The Promise of May" was +produced in November, 1882.), I think it was "The Promise of May," by Tennyson, +produced at the Globe, in which atheists were condemned, he had got up in his +box and denounced the play, proclaiming himself an atheist. I wanted to know +the Englishman who could be so contemptuous of convention. Had he acted out of +aristocratic insolence, or was he by any possibility high-minded? To one who +knew the man the mere question must seem ridiculous. + +Queensberry was perhaps five feet nine or ten in height, with a plain, heavy, +rather sullen face, and quick, hot eyes. He was a mass of self-conceit, all +bristling with suspicion, and in regard to money, prudent to meanness. He +cared nothing for books, but liked outdoor sports and under a rather abrupt, +but not discourteous, manner hid an irritable, violent temper. He was combative +and courageous as very nervous people sometimes are, when they happen to be +strong-willed--the sort of man who, just because he was afraid of a bull and +had pictured the dreadful wound it could give, would therefore seize it by the +horns. + +The insane temper of the man got him into rows at the Pelican more than once. +I remember one evening he insulted a man whom I liked immensely. Haseltine was +a stockbroker, I think, a big, fair, handsome fellow who took Queensberry's +insults for some time with cheerful contempt. Again and again he turned +Queensberry's wrath aside with a fair word, but Queensberry went on working +himself into a passion, and at last made a rush at him. Haseltine watched him +coming and hit out in the nick of time; he caught Queensberry full in the face +and literally knocked him heels over head. Queensberry got up in a sad mess: he +had a swollen nose and black eye and his shirt was all stained with blood spread +about by hasty wiping. Any other man would have continued the fight or else +have left the club on the spot; Queensberry took a seat at a table, and there +sat for hours silent. I could only explain it to myself by saying that his +impulse to fly at once from the scene of his disgrace was very acute, and +therefore he resisted it, made up his mind not to budge, and so he sat there the +butt of the derisive glances and whispered talk of everyone who came into the +club in the next two or three hours. He was just the sort of person a wise man +would avoid and a clever one would use--a dangerous, sharp, ill-handled tool. + +Disliking his father, I did not care to meet Lord Alfred Douglas, Oscar's newest +friend. + +I saw Oscar less frequently after the success of his first play; he no longer +needed my editorial services, and was, besides, busily engaged; but I have one +good trait to record of him. Some time before I had lent him L50; so long as he +was hard up I said nothing about it; but after the success of his second play, +I wrote to him saying that the L50 would be useful to me if he could spare it. +He sent me a cheque at once with a charming letter. + +He was now continually about again with Lord Alfred Douglas who, it appeared, +had had a disagreement with Lord Cromer and returned to London. Almost +immediately scandalous stories came into circulation concerning them: + +"Have you heard the latest about Lord Alfred and Oscar? I'm told they're being +watched by the police," and so forth and so on interminably. One day a story +came to me with such wealth of weird detail that it was manifestly at least +founded on fact. Oscar was said to have written extraordinary letters to +Lord Alfred Douglas: a youth called Alfred Wood had stolen the letters from +Lord Alfred Douglas' rooms in Oxford and had tried to blackmail Oscar with them. +The facts were so peculiar and so precise that I asked Oscar about it. He met +the accusation at once and very fairly, I thought, and told me the whole story. +It puts the triumphant power and address of the man in a strong light, and so I +will tell it as he told it to me. + +"When I was rehearsing 'A Woman of No Importance' at the Haymarket," he began, +"Beerbohm Tree showed me a letter I had written a year or so before to Alfred +Douglas. He seemed to think it dangerous, but I laughed at him and read the +letter with him, and of course he came to understand it properly. A little +later a man called Wood told me he had found some letters which I had written +to Lord Alfred Douglas in a suit of clothes which Lord Alfred had given to him. +He gave me back some of the letters and I gave him a little money. But the +letter, a copy of which had been sent to Beerbohm Tree, was not amongst them. + +"Some time afterwards a man named Allen called upon me one night in Tite Street, +and said he had got a letter of mine which I ought to have. + +"The man's manner told me that he was the real enemy. 'I suppose you mean that +beautiful letter of mine to Lord Alfred Douglas,' I said. 'If you had not been +so foolish as to send a copy of it to Mr. Beerbohm Tree, I should have been glad +to have paid you a large sum for it, as I think it is one of the best I ever +wrote.' Allen looked at me with sulky, cunning eyes and said: + +"'A curious construction could be put upon that letter.' + +"'No doubt, no doubt,' I replied lightly; 'art is not intelligible to the +criminal classes.' He looked me in the face defiantly and said: + +"'A man has offered me L60 for it.' + +"'You should take the offer,' I said gravely; 'L60 is a great price. I myself +have never received such a large sum for any prose work of that length. But I +am glad to find that there is someone in England who will pay such a large sum +for a letter of mine. I don't know why you come to me,' I added, rising, 'you +should sell the letter at once.' + +"Of course, Frank, as I spoke my body seemed empty with fear. The letter could +be misunderstood, and I have so many envious enemies; but I felt that there was +nothing else for it but bluff. As I went to the door Allen rose too, and said +that the man who had offered him the money was out of town. I turned to him +and said: + +"'He will no doubt return, and I don't care for the letter at all.' + +"At this Allen changed his manner, said he was very poor, he hadn't a penny in +the world, and had spent a lot trying to find me and tell me about the letter. +I told him I did not mind relieving his distress, and gave him half a sovereign, +assuring him at the same time that the letter would shortly be published as a +sonnet in a delightful magazine. I went to the door with him, and he walked +away. I closed the door; but didn't shut it at once, for suddenly I heard a +policeman's step coming softly towards my house--pad, pad! A dreadful moment, +then he passed by. I went into the room again all shaken, wondering whether +I had done right, whether Allen would hawk the letter about--a thousand vague +apprehensions. + +"Suddenly a knock at the street door. My heart was in my mouth, still I went +and opened it: a man named Cliburn was there. + +"'I have come to you with a letter of Allen's.' + +"'I cannot be bothered any more,' I cried, 'about that letter; I don't care +twopence about it. Let him do what he likes with it.' + +"To my astonishment Cliburn said: + +"'Allen has asked me to give it back to you,' and he produced it. + +"'Why does he give it back to me?' I asked carelessly. + +"'He says you were kind to him and that it is no use trying to "rent" you; +you only laugh at us.' + +"I looked at the letter; it was very dirty, and I said: + +"'I think it is unpardonable that better care should not have been taken of +a manuscript of mine.' + +"He said he was sorry; but it had been in many hands. I took the letter up +casually: + +"'Well, I will accept the letter back. You can thank Mr. Allen for me.' + +"I gave Cliburn half a sovereign for his trouble, and said to him: + +"'I am afraid you are leading a desperately wicked life.' + +"'There's good and bad in every one of us,' he replied. I said something about +his being a philosopher, and he went away. That's the whole story, Frank." + +"But the letter?" I questioned. + +"The letter is nothing," Oscar replied; "a prose poem. I will give you a copy +of it." + +Here is the letter: + +"My own boy,--Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those red +rose-leaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song +than for the madness of kissing. Your slim-gilt soul walks between passion and +poetry. No Hyacinthus followed Love so madly as you in Greek days. Why are you +alone in London, and when do you go to Salisbury? Do go there and cool your +hands in the grey twilight of Gothic things. Come here whenever you like. It +is a lovely place and only lacks you. Do go to Salisbury first. Always with +undying love, + +Yours, + +Oscar." + +This letter startled me; "slim-gilt" and the "madness of kissing" were +calculated to give one pause; but after all, I thought, it may be merely +an artist's letter, half pose, half passionate admiration. Another thought +struck me. + +"But how did such a letter," I cried, "ever get into the hands of a +blackmailer?" + +"I don't know," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Lord Alfred Douglas +is very careless and inconceivably bold. You should know him, Frank; he's +a delightful poet." + +"But how did he come to know a creature like Wood?" I persisted. + +"How can I tell, Frank," he answered a little shortly; and I let the matter +drop, though it left in me a certain doubt, an uncomfortable suspicion. + +The scandal grew from hour to hour, and the tide of hatred rose in surges. + +One day I was lunching at the Savoy, and while talking to the head waiter, +Cesari, who afterwards managed the Elysee Palace Hotel in Paris, I thought I saw +Oscar and Douglas go out together. Being a little short-sighted, I asked: + +"Isn't that Mr. Oscar Wilde?" + +"Yes," said Cesari, "and Lord Alfred Douglas. We wish they would not come here; +it does us a lot of harm." + +"How do you mean?" I asked sharply. + +"Some people don't like them," the quick Italian answered immediately. + +"Oscar Wilde," I remarked casually, "is a great friend of mine," but the super- +subtle Italian was already warned. + +"A clever writer, I believe," he said, smiling in bland acquiescence. + +This incident gave me warning, strengthened again in me the exact apprehension +and suspicion which the Douglas letter had bred. Oscar I knew was too self- +centred, went about too continually with admirers to have any understanding of +popular feeling. He would be the last man to realize how fiercely hate, malice +and envy were raging against him. I wanted to warn him; but hardly knew how to +do it effectively and without offence: I made up my mind to keep my eyes open +and watch an opportunity. + +A little later I gave a dinner at the Savoy and asked him to come. He was +delightful, his vivacious gaiety as exhilarating as wine. But he was more like +a Roman Emperor than ever: he had grown fat: he ate and drank too much; not that +he was intoxicated, but he became flushed, and in spite of his gay and genial +talk he affected me a little unpleasantly; he was gross and puffed up. But he +gave one or two splendid snapshots of actors and their egregious vanity. It +seemed to him a great pity that actors should be taught to read and write: they +should learn their pieces from the lips of the poet. + +"Just as work is the curse of the drinking classes of this country," he said +laughing, "so education is the curse of the acting classes." + +Yet even when making fun of the mummers there was a new tone in him of arrogance +and disdain. He used always to be genial and kindly even to those he laughed +at; now he was openly contemptuous. The truth is that his extraordinarily +receptive mind went with an even more abnormal receptivity of character: unlike +most men of marked ability, he took colour from his associates. In this as in +love of courtesies and dislike of coarse words he was curiously feminine. +Intercourse with Beardsley, for example, had backed his humorous gentleness with +a sort of challenging courage; his new intimacy with Lord Alfred Douglas, coming +on the top of his triumph as a playwright, was lending him aggressive self- +confidence. There was in him that "hubris" (insolent self-assurance) which the +Greek feared, the pride which goeth before destruction. I regretted the change +in him and was nervously apprehensive. + +After dinner we all went out by the door which gives on the Embankment, for it +was after 12.30. One of the party proposed that we should walk for a minute or +two--at least as far as the Strand, before driving home. Oscar objected. He +hated walking; it was a form of penal servitude to the animal in man, he +declared; but he consented, nevertheless, under protest, laughing. When we +were going up the steps to the Strand he again objected, and quoted Dante's +famous lines: + + "Tu proverai si come sa di sale +Lo pane altrui; e com' e duro calle +Lo scendere e 'l salir per l'altrui scale." + +The impression made by Oscar that evening was not only of self-indulgence but +of over-confidence. I could not imagine what had given him this insolent self- +complacence. I wanted to get by myself and think. Prosperity was certainly +doing him no good. + +All the while the opposition to him, I felt, was growing in force. How could I +verify this impression, I asked myself, so as to warn him effectually? + +I decided to give a lunch to him, and on purpose I put on the invitations: "To +meet Mr. Oscar Wilde and hear a new story." Out of a dozen invitations sent out +to men, seven or eight were refused, three or four telling me in all kindness +that they would rather not meet Oscar Wilde. This confirmed my worst fears: +when Englishmen speak out in this way the dislike must be near revolt. + +I gave the lunch and saw plainly enough that my forebodings were justified. +Oscar was more self-confident than ever, but his talk did not suffer; indeed, +it seemed to improve. At this lunch he told the charming fable of "Narcissus," +which is certainly one of his most characteristic short stories. + +"When Narcissus died the Flowers of the Field were plunged in grief, and asked +the River for drops of water that they might mourn for him. + +"'Oh,' replied the River, 'if only my drops of water were tears, I should not +have enough to weep for Narcissus myself--I loved him.' + +"'How could you help loving Narcissus?' said the flowers, 'so beautiful was he.' + +"'Was he beautiful?' asked the River. + +"'Who should know that better than you?' said the flowers, 'for every day, lying +on your bank, he would mirror his beauty in your waters.'" + +Oscar paused here, and then went on: + +"'If I loved him,' replied the River, 'it is because, when he hung over me, +I saw the reflection of my own loveliness in his eyes.'" + +After lunch I took him aside and tried to warn him, told him that unpleasant +stories were being put about against him; but he paid no heed to me. + +"All envy, Frank, and malice. What do I care? I go to Clumber this summer; +besides I am doing another play which I rather like. I always knew that play- +writing was my province. As a youth I tried to write plays in verse; that was +my mistake. Now I know better; I'm sure of myself and of success." + +Somehow or other in spite of his apparent assurance I felt he was in danger +and I doubted his quality as a fighter. But after all it was not my business: +wilful man must have his way. + +It seems to me now that my mistrust dated from the second paper war with +Whistler, wherein to the astonishment of everyone Oscar did not come off +victorious. As soon as he met with opposition his power of repartee seemed to +desert him and Whistler, using mere rudeness and man-of-the-world sharpness, +held the field. Oscar was evidently not a born fighter. + +I asked him once how it was he let Whistler off so lightly. He shrugged his +shoulders and showed some irritation. + +"What could I say, Frank? Why should I belabour the beaten? The man is a wasp +and delights in using his sting. I have done more perhaps than anyone to make +him famous. I had no wish to hurt him." + +Was it magnanimity or weakness or, as I think, a constitutional, a feminine +shrinking from struggle and strife. Whatever the cause, it was clear that +Oscar was what Shakespeare called himself, "an unhurtful opposite." + +It is quite possible that if he had been attacked face to face, Oscar would have +given a better account of himself. At Mrs. Grenfell's (now Lady Desborough) +he crossed swords once with the Prime Minister and came off victorious. Mr. +Asquith began by bantering him, in appearance lightly, in reality, seriously, +for putting many of his sentences in italics. + +"The man who uses italics," said the politician, "is like the man who raises his +voice in conversation and talks loudly in order to make himself heard." + +It was the well-known objection which Emerson had taken to Carlyle's overwrought +style, pointed probably by dislike of the way Oscar monopolised conversation. + +Oscar met the stereotyped attack with smiling good-humour. + +"How delightful of you, Mr. Asquith, to have noticed that! The brilliant phrase, +like good wine, needs no bush. But just as the orator marks his good things by +a dramatic pause, or by raising or lowering his voice, or by gesture, so the +writer marks his epigrams with italics, setting the little gem, so to speak, +like a jeweller--an excusable love of one's art, not all mere vanity, I like to +think"--all this with the most pleasant smile and manner. + +In measure as I distrusted Oscar's fighting power and admired his sweetness of +nature I took sides with him and wanted to help him. One day I heard some talk +at the Pelican Club which filled me with fear for him and quickened my resolve +to put him on his guard. I was going in just as Queensberry was coming out with +two or three of his special cronies. + +"I'll do it," I heard him cry, "I'll teach the fellow to leave my son alone. +I'll not have their names coupled together." + +I caught a glimpse of the thrust-out combative face and the hot grey eyes. + +"What's it all about?" I asked. + +"Only Queensberry," said someone, "swearing he'll stop Oscar Wilde going about +with that son of his, Alfred Douglas." + +Suddenly my fears took form: as in a flash I saw Oscar, heedless and smiling, +walking along with his head in the air, and that violent combative insane +creature pouncing on him. I sat down at once and wrote begging Oscar to lunch +with me the next day alone, as I had something important to say to him. He +turned up in Park Lane, manifestly anxious, a little frightened, I think. + +"What is it, Frank?" + +I told him very seriously what I had heard and gave besides my impression of +Queensberry's character, and his insane pugnacity. + +"What can I do, Frank?" said Oscar, showing distress and apprehension. "It's +all Bosie." + +"Who is Bosie?" I asked. + +"That is Lord Alfred Douglas' pet name. It's all Bosie's fault. He has +quarrelled with his father, or rather his father has quarrelled with him. +He quarrels with everyone; with Lady Queensberry, with Percy Douglas, with +Bosie, everyone. He's impossible. What can I do?" + +"Avoid him," I said. "Don't go about with Lord Alfred Douglas. Give +Queensberry his triumph. You could make a friend of him as easily as possible, +if you wished. Write him a conciliatory letter." + +"But he'll want me to drop Bosie, and stop seeing Lady Queensberry, and I like +them all; they are charming to me. Why should I cringe to this madman?" + +"Because he is a madman." + +"Oh, Frank, I can't," he cried. "Bosie wouldn't let me." + +"'Wouldn't let you'? I repeated angrily. "How absurd! That Queensberry man +will go to violence, to any extremity. Don't you fight other people's quarrels: +you may have enough of your own some day." + +"You're not sympathetic, Frank," he chided weakly. "I know you mean it kindly, +but it's impossible for me to do as you advise. I cannot give up my friend. I +really cannot let Lord Queensberry choose my friends for me. It's too absurd." + +"But it's wise," I replied. "There's a very bad verse in one of Hugo's plays. +It always amused me--he likens poverty to a low door and declares that when we +have to pass through it the man who stoops lowest is the wisest. So when you +meet a madman, the wisest thing to do is to avoid him and not quarrel with him." + +"It's very hard, Frank; of course I'll think over what you say. But really +Queensberry ought to be in a madhouse. He's too absurd," and in that spirit he +left me, outwardly self-confident. He might have remembered Chaucer's words: + +Beware also to spurne again a nall; +Strive not as doeth a crocke with a wall; +Deme thy selfe that demest others dede, +And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede. + + + + +CHAPTER XII--DANGER SIGNALS: THE CHALLENGE + + + +These two years 1893-4 saw Oscar Wilde at the very zenith of success. +Thackeray, who always felt himself a monetary failure in comparison with +Dickens, calls success "one of the greatest of a great man's qualities," and +Oscar was not successful merely, he was triumphant. Not Sheridan the day after +his marriage, not Byron when he awoke to find himself famous, ever reached such +a pinnacle. His plays were bringing in so much that he could spend money like +water; he had won every sort of popularity; the gross applause of the many, and +the finer incense of the few who constitute the jury of Fame; his personal +popularity too was extraordinary; thousands admired him, many liked him; he +seemed to have everything that heart could desire and perfect health to boot. +Even his home life was without a cloud. Two stories which he told at this time +paint him. One was about his two boys, Vyvyan and Cyril. + +"Children are sometimes interesting," he began. "The other night I was reading +when my wife came and asked me to go upstairs and reprove the elder boy: Cyril, +it appeared, would not say his prayers. He had quarrelled with Vyvyan, and +beaten him, and when he was shaken and told he must say his prayers, he would +not kneel down, or ask God to make him a good boy. Of course I had to go +upstairs and see to it. I took the chubby little fellow on my knee, and told +him in a grave way that he had been very naughty; naughty to hit his younger +brother, and naughty because he had given his mother pain. He must kneel down +at once, and ask God to forgive him and make him a good boy. + +"'I was not naughty,' he pouted, 'it was Vyvyan; he was naughty.' + +"I explained to him that his temper was naughty, and that he must do as he was +told. With a little sigh he slipped off my knee, and knelt down and put his +little hands together, as he had been taught, and began 'Our Father.' When he +had finished the 'Lord's Prayer,' he looked up at me and said gravely, 'Now I'll +pray to myself.' + +"He closed his eyes and his lips moved. When he had finished I took him in my +arms again and kissed him. "That's right," I said. + +"'You said you were sorry,' questioned his mother, leaning over him, 'and asked +God to make you a good boy?' + +"'Yes, mother,' he nodded, 'I said I was sorry and asked God to make Vyvyan +a good boy.' + +"I had to leave the room, Frank, or he would have seen me smiling. Wasn't it +delightful of him! We are all willing to ask God to make others good." + +This story shows the lovable side of him. There was another side not so +amiable. In April, 1893, "A Woman of No Importance" was produced by Herbert +Beerbohm Tree at The Haymarket and ran till the end of the season, August 16th, +surviving even the festival of St. Grouse. The astonishing success of this +second play confirmed Oscar Wilde's popularity, gave him money to spend and +increased his self-confidence. In the summer he took a house up the river at +Goring, and went there to live with Lord Alfred Douglas. Weird stories came to +us in London about their life together. Some time in September, I think it was, +I asked him what was the truth underlying these reports. + +"Scandals and slanders, Frank, have no relation to truth," he replied. + +"I wonder if that's true," I said, "slander often has some substratum of +truth; it resembles the truth like a gigantic shadow; there is a likeness +at least in outline." + +"That would be true," he retorted, "if the canvas, so to speak, on which the +shadows fall were even and true; but it is not. Scandals and slander are +related to the hatred of the people who invent them and are not in any shadowy +sense even, effigies or images of the person attacked." + +"Much smoke, then," I queried, "and no fire?" + +"Only little fires," he rejoined, "show much smoke. The foundation for what you +heard is both small and harmless. The summer was very warm and beautiful, as +you know, and I was up at Goring with Bosie. Often in the middle of the day we +were too hot to go on the river. One afternoon it was sultry-close, and Bosie +proposed that I should turn the hose pipe on him. He went in and threw his +things off and so did I. A few minutes later I was seated in a chair with a +bath towel round me and Bosie was lying on the grass about ten yards away, when +the vicar came to pay us a call. The servant told him that we were in the +garden, and he came and found us there. Frank, you have no idea the sort of +face he pulled. What could I say?" + +"'I am the vicar of the parish,' he bowed pompously. + +"'I'm delighted to see you,' I said, getting up and draping myself carefully, +'you have come just in time to enjoy a perfectly Greek scene. I regret that I +am scarcely fit to receive you, and Bosie there;--and I pointed to Bosie lying +on the grass. The vicar turned his head and saw Bosie's white limbs; the sight +was too much for him; he got very red, gave a gasp and fled from the place. + +"I simply sat down in my chair and shrieked with laughter. How he may have +described the scene, what explanation he gave of it, what vile gloss he may have +invented, I don't know and I don't care. I have no doubt he wagged his head and +pursed his lips and looked unutterable things. But really it takes a saint to +suffer such fools gladly." + +I could not help smiling when I thought of the vicar's face, but Oscar's tone +was not pleasant. + +The change in him had gone further than I had feared. He was now utterly +contemptuous of criticism and would listen to no counsel. He was gross, too, +the rich food and wine seemed to ooze out of him and his manner was defiant, +hard. He was like some great pagan determined to live his own life to the very +fullest, careless of what others might say or think or do. Even the stories +which he wrote about this time show the worst side of his paganism: + +"When Jesus was minded to return to Nazareth, Nazareth was so changed that He +no longer recognised His own city. The Nazareth where he had lived was full of +lamentations and tears; this city was filled with outbursts of laughter and +song. . . . . + +"Christ went out of the house and, behold, in the street he saw a woman whose +face and raiment were painted and whose feet were shod with pearls, and behind +her walked a man who wore a cloak of two colours, and whose eyes were bright +with lust. And Christ went up to the man and laid His hand on his shoulder, and +said to him, 'Tell me, why art thou following this woman, and why dost thou look +at her in such wise?' The man turned round, recognised Him and said, 'I was +blind; Thou didst heal me; what else should I do with my sight?'" + +The same note is played on in two or three more incidents, but the one I have +given is the best, and should have been allowed to stand alone. It has been +called blasphemous; it is not intentionally blasphemous; as I have said, Oscar +always put himself quite naively in the place of any historical character. + +The disdain of public opinion which Oscar now showed not only in his writings, +but in his answers to criticism, quickly turned the public dislike into +aggressive hatred. In 1894 a book appeared, "The Green Carnation," which was a +sort of photograph of Oscar as a talker and a caricature of his thought. The +gossipy story had a surprising success, altogether beyond its merits, which +simply testified to the intense interest the suspicion of extraordinary +viciousness has for common minds. Oscar's genius was not given in the book +at all, but his humour was indicated and a malevolent doubt of his morality +insisted upon again and again. Rumour had it that the book was true in every +particular, that Mr. Hichens had taken down Oscar's talks evening after evening +and simply reproduced them. I asked Oscar if this was true. + +"True enough, Frank," he replied with a certain contempt which was foreign to +him. "Hichens got to know Bosie Douglas in Egypt. They went up the Nile +together, I believe with 'Dodo' Denson. Naturally Bosie talked a great deal +about me and Hichens wanted to know me. When they returned to town, I thought +him rather pleasant, and saw a good deal of him. I had no idea that he was +going to play reporter; it seems to me a breach of confidence--ignoble." + +"It is not a picture of you," I said, "but there is a certain likeness." + +"A photograph is always like and unlike, Frank," he replied; "the sun too, when +used mechanically, is merely a reporter, and traduces instead of reproducing +you." + +"The Green Carnation" ruined Oscar Wilde's character with the general public. +On all sides the book was referred to as confirming the worst suspicions: the +cloud which hung over him grew continually darker. + +During the summer of 1894 he wrote the "Ideal Husband," which was the outcome of +a story I had told him. I had heard it from an American I had met in Cairo, a +Mr. Cope Whitehouse. He told me that Disraeli had made money by entrusting the +Rothschilds with the purchase of the Suez Canal shares. It seemed to me strange +that this statement, if true, had never been set forth authoritatively; but the +story was peculiarly modern, and had possibilities in it. Oscar admitted +afterwards that he had taken the idea and used it in "An Ideal Husband." + +It was in this summer also that he wrote "The Importance of Being Earnest," his +finest play. He went to the seaside and completed it, he said, in three weeks, +and, when I spoke of the delight he must feel at having two plays performed in +London at the same time, he said: + +"Next year, Frank, I may have four or five; I could write one every two months +with the greatest ease. It all depends on money. If I need money I shall write +half a dozen plays next year." + +His words reminded me of what Goethe had said about himself: in each of the ten +years he spent on his "Theory of Light" he could have written a couple of plays +as good as his best. The land of Might-have-been is peopled with these gorgeous +shadow-shapes. + +Oscar had already found his public, a public capable of appreciating the very +best he could do. As soon as "The Importance of Being Earnest" was produced +it had an extraordinary success, and success of the best sort. Even journalist +critics had begun to cease exhibiting their own limitations in foolish fault- +finding, and now imitated their betters, parroting phrases of extravagant +laudation. + +Oscar took the praise as he had taken the scandal and slander, with complacent +superiority. He had changed greatly and for the worse: he was growing coarser +and harder every year. All his friends noticed this. Even M. Andre Gide, who +was a great admirer and wrote, shortly after his death, the best account of him +that appeared, was compelled to deplore his deterioration. He says: + +"One felt that there was less tenderness in his looks, that there was something +harsh in his laughter, and a wild madness in his joy. He seemed at the same +time to be sure of pleasing, and less ambitious to succeed therein. He had +grown reckless, hardened and conceited. Strangely enough he no longer spoke +in fables..." + +His brother Willie made a similar complaint to Sir Edward Sullivan. Sir Edward +writes: + +"William Wilde told me, when Oscar was in prison, that the only trouble between +him and his brother was caused by Oscar's inordinate vanity in the period before +his conviction. 'He had surrounded himself,' William said, 'with a gang of +parasites who praised him all day long, and to whom he used to give his +cigarette-cases, breast pins, etc., in return for their sickening flattery. No +one, not even I, his brother, dared offer any criticism on his works without +offending him.'" + +If proof were needed both of his reckless contempt for public opinion and the +malignancy with which he was misjudged, it could be found in an incident which +took place towards the end of 1894. A journal entitled "The Chameleon" was +produced by some Oxford undergraduates. Oscar wrote for it a handful of sayings +which he called "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young." His +epigrams were harmless enough; but in the same number there appeared a story +entitled "The Priest and the Acolyte" which could hardly be defended. The mere +fact that his work was printed in the same journal called forth a storm of +condemnation though he had never seen the story before it was published nor had +he anything to do with its insertion. + +Nemesis was following hard after him. Late in this year he spoke to me of his +own accord about Lord Queensberry. He wanted my advice: + +"Lord Queensberry is annoying me," he said; "I did my best to reconcile him and +Bosie. One day at the Cafe Royal, while Bosie and I were lunching there, +Queensberry came in and I made Bosie go over and fetch his father and bring him +to lunch with us. He was half friendly with me till quite recently; though he +wrote a shameful letter to Bosie about us. What am I to do?" + +I asked him what Lord Queensberry objected to. + +"He objects to my friendship with Bosie." + +"Then why not cease to see Bosie?" I asked. + +"It is impossible, Frank, and ridiculous; why should I give up my friends for +Queensberry?" + +"I should like to see Queensberry's letter," I said. "Is it possible?" + +"I'll bring it to you, Frank, but there's nothing in it." A day or two later he +showed me the letter, and after I had read it he produced a copy of the telegram +which Lord Alfred Douglas had sent to his father in reply. Here they both are; +they speak for themselves loudly enough: + +Alfred,-- + +It is extremely painful for me to have to write to you in the strain I must; but +please understand that I decline to receive any answers from you in writing in +return. After your recent hysterical impertinent ones I refuse to be annoyed +with such, and I decline to read any more letters. If you have anything to say +do come here and say it in person. Firstly, am I to understand that, having +left Oxford as you did, with discredit to yourself, the reasons of which were +fully explained to me by your tutor, you now intend to loaf and loll about and +do nothing? All the time you were wasting at Oxford I was put off with an +assurance that you were eventually to go into the Civil Service or to the +Foreign Office, and then I was put off with an assurance that you were going to +the Bar. It appears to me that you intend to do nothing. I utterly decline, +however, to just supply you with sufficient funds to enable you to loaf about. +You are preparing a wretched future for yourself, and it would be most cruel and +wrong for me to encourage you in this. Secondly, I come to the more painful +part of this letter--your intimacy with this man Wilde. It must either cease +or I will disown you and stop all money supplies. I am not going to try and +analyse this intimacy, and I make no charge; but to my mind to pose as a thing +is as bad as to be it. With my own eyes I saw you both in the most loathsome +and disgusting relationship as expressed by your manner and expression. Never +in my experience have I ever seen such a sight as that in your horrible +features. No wonder people are talking as they are. Also I now hear on good +authority, but this may be false, that his wife is petitioning to divorce him +for sodomy and other crimes. Is this true, or do you not know of it? If I +thought the actual thing was true, and it became public property, I should be +quite justified in shooting him at sight. These Christian English cowards and +men, as they call themselves, want waking up. + +Your disgusted so-called father, + +Queensberry. + +In reply to this letter Lord Alfred Douglas telegraphed: + +"What a funny little man you are! Alfred Douglas." + +This telegram was excellently calculated to drive Queensberry frantic with rage. +There was feminine cunning in its wound to vanity. + +A little later Oscar told me that Queensberry accompanied by a friend had called +on him. + +"What happened?" I asked. + +"I said to him, 'I suppose, Lord Queensberry, you have come to apologise for the +libellous letter you wrote about me?' + +"'No,' he replied, 'the letter was privileged; it was written to my son.' + +"'How dared you say such a thing about your son and me?' + +"'You were both kicked out of The Savoy Hotel for disgusting conduct,' +he replied. + +"'That's untrue,' I said, 'absolutely untrue.' + +"'You were blackmailed too for a disgusting letter you wrote my son,' +he went on. + +"'I don't know who has been telling you all these silly stories,' I replied, +'but they are untrue and quite ridiculous.' + +"He ended up by saying that if he caught me and his son together again he would +thrash me. + +"'I don't know what the Queensberry rules are,' I retorted, 'but my rule is to +shoot at sight in case of personal violence,' and with that I told him to leave +my house." + +"Of course he defied you?" I questioned. + +"He was rude, Frank, and preposterous to the end." + +As Oscar was telling me the story, it seemed to me as if another person were +speaking through his mouth. The idea of Oscar "standing up" to Queensberry or +"shooting at sight" was too absurd. Who was inspiring him? Alfred Douglas? + +"What has happened since?" I enquired. + +"Nothing," he replied, "perhaps he will be quiet now. Bosie has written him a +terrible letter; he must see now that, if he goes on, he will only injure his +own flesh and blood." + +"That won't stop him," I replied, "if I read him aright. But if I could see +what Alfred Douglas wrote, I should be better able to judge of the effect it +will have on Queensberry." + +A little later I saw the letter: it shows better than words of mine the tempers +of the chief actors in this squalid story: + +"As you return my letters unopened, I am obliged to write on a postcard. I +write to inform you that I treat your absurd threats with absolute indifference. +Ever since your exhibition at O. W.'s house, I have made a point of appearing +with him at many public restaurants such as The Berkeley, Willis's Rooms, the +Cafe Royal, etc., and I shall continue to go to any of these places whenever +I choose and with whom I choose. I am of age and my own master. You have +disowned me at least a dozen times, and have very meanly deprived me of money. +You have therefore no right over me, either legal or moral. If O. W. was to +prosecute you in the Central Criminal Court for libel, you would get seven +years' penal servitude for your outrageous libels. Much as I detest you, I am +anxious to avoid this for the sake of the family; but if you try to assault me, +I shall defend myself with a loaded revolver, which I always carry; and if I +shoot you or if he shoots you, we shall be completely justified, as we shall be +acting in self-defence against a violent and dangerous rough, and I think if you +were dead many people would not miss you.--A. D." + +This letter of the son seemed to me appalling. My guess was right; it was he +who was speaking through Oscar; the threat of shooting at sight came from him. +I did not then understand all the circumstances; I had not met Lady Queensberry. +I could not have imagined how she had suffered at the hands of her husband--a +charming, cultivated woman, with exquisite taste in literature and art; a woman +of the most delicate, aspen-like sensibilities and noble generosities, coupled +with that violent, coarse animal with the hot eyes and combative nature. Her +married life had been a martyrdom. Naturally the children had all taken her +side in the quarrel, and Lord Alfred Douglas, her especial favourite, had +practically identified himself with her, which explains to some extent, though +nothing can justify, the unnatural animosity of his letter. The letter showed +me that the quarrel was far deeper, far bitterer than I had imagined--one of +those dreadful family quarrels, where the intimate knowledge each has of the +other whips anger to madness. All I could do was to warn Oscar. + +"It's the old, old story," I said. "You are putting your hand between the +bark and the tree, and you will suffer for it." But he would not or could not +see it. + +"What is one to do with such a madman?" he asked pitiably. + +"Avoid him," I replied, "as you would avoid a madman, who wanted to fight with +you; or conciliate him; there is nothing else to do." + +He would not be warned. A little later the matter came up again. At the first +production of "The Importance of Being Earnest" Lord Queensberry appeared at the +theatre carrying a large bouquet of turnips and carrots. What the meaning was +of those vegetables only the man himself and his like could divine. I asked +Oscar about the matter. He seemed annoyed but on the whole triumphant. + +"Queensberry," he said, "had engaged a stall at the St. James's Theatre, +no doubt to kick up a row; but as soon as I heard of it I got Alick (George +Alexander) to send him back his money. On the night of the first performance +Queensberry appeared carrying a large bundle of carrots. He was refused +admittance at the box-office, and when he tried to enter the gallery the +police would not let him in. He must be mad, Frank, don't you think? I am +glad he was foiled." + +"He is insanely violent," I said, "he will keep on attacking you." + +"But what can I do, Frank?" + +"Don't ask for advice you won't take," I replied. "There's a French proverb +I've always liked: 'In love and war don't seek counsel.' But for God's sake, +don't drift. Stop while you can." + +But Oscar would have had to take a resolution and act in order to stop, and he +was incapable of such energy. The wild horses of Fate had run away with the +light chariot of his fortune, and what the end would be no one could foresee. +It came with appalling suddenness. + +One evening, in February, '95, I heard that the Marquis of Queensberry had left +an insulting card for Oscar at the Albemarle Club. My informant added gleefully +that now Oscar would have to face the music and we'd all see what was in him. +There was no malice in this, just an Englishman's pleasure in a desperate fight, +and curiosity as to the issue. + +A little later I received a letter from Oscar, asking me if he could call on me +that afternoon. I stayed in, and about four o'clock he came to see me. + +At first he used the old imperious mask, which he had lately accustomed himself +to wear. + +"I am bringing an action against Queensberry, Frank," he began gravely, "for +criminal libel. He is a mere wild beast. My solicitors tell me that I am +certain to win. But they say some of the things I have written will be brought +up against me in court. Now you know all I have written. Would you in your +position as editor of "The Fortnightly" come and give evidence for me, testify +for instance that 'Dorian Gray' is not immoral?" + +"Yes," I replied at once, "I should be perfectly willing, and I could say more +than that; I could say that you are one of the very few men I have ever known +whose talk and whose writings were vowed away from grossness of any sort." + +"Oh! Frank, would you? It would be so kind of you," he cried out. "My +solicitors said I ought to ask you, but they were afraid you would not like to +come: your evidence will win the case. It is good of you." His whole face was +shaken; he turned away to hide the tears. + +"Anything I can do, Oscar," I said, "I shall do with pleasure, and, as you know, +to the uttermost; but I want you to consider the matter carefully. An English +court of law gives me no assurance of a fair trial or rather I am certain that +in matters of art or morality an English court is about the worst tribunal in +the civilised world." + +He shook his head impatiently. + +"I cannot help it, I cannot alter it," he said. + +"You must listen to me," I insisted. "You remember the Whistler and Ruskin +action. You know that Whistler ought to have won. You know that Ruskin was +shamelessly in fault; but the British jury and the so-called British artists +treated Whistler and his superb work with contempt. Take a different case +altogether, the Belt case, where all the Academicians went into the witness box, +and asserted honestly enough that Belt was an impostor, yet the jury gave him a +verdict of L5,000, though a year later he was sent to penal servitude for the +very frauds which the jury in the first trial had declared by their verdict he +had not committed. An English law court is all very well for two average men, +who are fighting an ordinary business dispute. That's what it's made for, but +to judge a Whistler or the ability or the immorality of an artist is to ask the +court to do what it is wholly unfit to do. There is not a judge on the bench +whose opinion on such a matter is worth a moment's consideration, and the jury +are a thousand years behind the judge." + +"That may be true, Frank; but I cannot help it." + +"Don't forget," I persisted, "all British prejudices will be against you. +Here is a father, the fools will say, trying to protect his young son. If +he has made a mistake, it is only through excess of laudable zeal; you would +have to prove yourself a religious maniac in order to have any chance against +him in England." + +"How terrible you are, Frank. You know it is Bosie Douglas who wants me to +fight, and my solicitors tell me I shall win." + +"Solicitors live on quarrels. Of course they want a case that will bring +hundreds if not thousands of pounds into their pockets. Besides they like +the fight. They will have all the kudos of it and the fun, and you will pay +the piper. For God's sake don't be led into it: that way madness lies." + +"But, Frank," he objected weakly, "how can I sit down under such an insult. +I must do something." + +"That's another story," I replied. "Let us by all means weigh what is to be +done. But let us begin by putting the law-courts out of the question. Don't +forget that you are challenged to mortal combat. Let us consider how the +challenge should be met, but we won't fight under Queensberry rules because +Queensberry happens to be the aggressor. Don't forget that if you lose and +Queensberry goes free, everyone will hold that you have been guilty of nameless +vice. Put the law courts out of your head. Whatever else you do, you must not +bring an action for criminal libel against Queensberry. You are sure to lose +it; you haven't a dog's chance, and the English despise the beaten--"vae +victis!" Don't commit suicide." + +Nothing was determined when the time came to part. + +This conversation took place, I believe, on the Friday or Saturday. I spent +the whole of Sunday trying to find out what was known about Oscar Wilde and what +would be brought up against him. I wanted to know too how he was regarded in an +ordinary middle-class English home. + +My investigations had appalling results. Everyone assumed that Oscar Wilde was +guilty of the worst that had ever been alleged against him; the very people who +received him in their houses condemned him pitilessly and, as I approached the +fountain-head of information, the charges became more and more definite; to my +horror, in the Public Prosecutor's office, his guilt was said to be known and +classified. + +All "people of importance" agreed that he would lose his case against +Queensberry; "no English jury would give Oscar Wilde a verdict against anyone," +was the expert opinion. + +"How unjust!" I cried. + +A careless shrug was the only reply. + +I returned home from my enquiries late on Sunday afternoon, and in a few minutes +Oscar called by appointment. I told him I was more convinced than ever that he +must not go on with the prosecution; he would be certain to lose. Without +beating about the bush I declared that he had no earthly chance. + +"There are letters," I said, "which are infinitely worse than your published +writings, which will be put in evidence against you." + +"What letters do you mean, Frank?" he questioned. "The Wood letters to Lord +Alfred Douglas I told you about? I can explain all of them." + +"You paid blackmail to Wood for letters you had written to Douglas," I replied, +"and you will not be able to explain that fact to the satisfaction of a jury. +I am told it is possible that witnesses will be called against you. Take it +from me, Oscar, you have not a ghost of a chance." + +"Tell me what you mean, Frank, for God's sake," he cried. + +"I can tell you in a word," I replied; "you will lose your case. I have +promised not to say more." + +I tried to persuade him by his vanity. + +"You must remember," I said, "that you are a sort of standard bearer for future +generations. If you lose you will make it harder for all writers in England; +though God knows it is hard enough already; you will put back the hands of the +clock for fifty years." + +I seemed almost to have persuaded him. He questioned me: + +"What is the alternative, Frank, the wisest thing to do in your opinion? +Tell me that." + +"You ought to go abroad," I replied, "go abroad with your wife, and let +Queensberry and his son fight out their own miserable quarrels; they are +well-matched." + +"Oh, Frank," he cried, "how can I do that?" + +"Sleep on it," I replied; "I am going to, and we can talk it all over in a +day or two." + +"But I must know," he said wistfully, "tomorrow morning, Frank." + +"Bernard Shaw is lunching with me tomorrow," I replied, "at the Cafe Royal." + +He made an impatient movement of his head. + +"He usually goes early," I went on, "and if you like to come after three o'clock +we can have a talk and consider it all." + +"May I bring Bosie?" he enquired. + +"I would rather you did not," I replied, "but it is for you to do just as +you like. I don't mind saying what I have to say, before anyone," and on that +we parted. + +Somehow or other next day at lunch both Shaw and I got interested in our talk, +and we were both at the table when Oscar came in. I introduced them, but they +had met before. Shaw stood up and proposed to go at once, but Oscar with his +usual courtesy assured him that he would be glad if he stayed. + +"Then, Oscar," I said, "perhaps you won't mind Shaw hearing what I advise?" + +"No, Frank, I don't mind," he sighed with a pitiful air of depression. + +I am not certain and my notes do not tell me whether Bosie Douglas came in with +Oscar or a little later, but he heard the greater part of our talk. I put the +matter simply. + +"First of all," I said, "we start with the certainty that you are going to lose +the case against Queensberry. You must give it up, drop it at once; but you +cannot drop it and stay in England. Queensberry would probably attack you again +and again. I know him well; he is half a savage and regards pity as a weakness; +he has absolutely no consideration for others. + +"You should go abroad, and, as ace of trumps, you should take your wife with +you. Now for the excuse: I would sit down and write such a letter as you alone +can write to "The Times". You should set forth how you have been insulted by +the Marquis of Queensberry, and how you went naturally to the Courts for a +remedy, but you found out very soon that this was a mistake. No jury would +give a verdict against a father, however mistaken he might be. The only thing +for you to do therefore is to go abroad, and leave the whole ring, with its +gloves and ropes, its sponges and pails, to Lord Queensberry. You are a maker +of beautiful things, you should say, and not a fighter. Whereas the Marquis of +Queensberry takes joy only in fighting. You refuse to fight with a father under +these circumstances." + +Oscar seemed to be inclined to do as I proposed. I appealed to Shaw, and Shaw +said he thought I was right; the case would very likely go against Oscar, a jury +would hardly give a verdict against a father trying to protect his son. Oscar +seemed much moved. I think it was about this time that Bosie Douglas came in. +At Oscar's request, I repeated my argument and to my astonishment Douglas got up +at once, and cried with his little white, venomous, distorted face: + +"Such advice shows you are no friend of Oscar's." + +"What do you mean?" I asked in wonderment; but he turned and left the room on +the spot. To my astonishment Oscar also got up. + +"It is not friendly of you, Frank," he said weakly. "It really is not +friendly." + +I stared at him: he was parrotting Douglas' idiotic words. + +"Don't be absurd," I said; but he repeated: + +"No, Frank, it is not friendly," and went to the door and disappeared. + +Like a flash I saw part at least of the truth. It was not Oscar who had ever +misled Douglas, but Lord Alfred Douglas who was driving Oscar whither he would. + +I turned to Shaw. + +"Did I say anything in the heat of argument that could have offended Oscar or +Douglas?" + +"Nothing," said Shaw, "not a word: you have nothing to reproach yourself with." +(I am very glad that Bernard Shaw has lately put in print his memory of this +conversation. The above account was printed, though not published, in 1911, and +in 1914 Shaw published his recollection of what took place at this consultation. +Readers may judge from the comparison how far my general story is worthy of +credence. In the Introduction to his playlet, "The Dark Lady of the Sonnets," +Shaw writes: + +"Yet he (Harris) knows the taste and the value of humour. He was one of the +few men of letters who really appreciated Oscar Wilde, though he did not rally +fiercely to Wilde's side until the world deserted Oscar in his ruin. I myself +was present at a curious meeting between the two when Harris on the eve of +the Queensberry trial prophesied to Wilde with miraculous precision exactly +what immediately afterwards happened to him and warned him to leave the country. +It was the first time within my knowledge that such a forecast proved true. +Wilde, though under no illusion as to the folly of the quite unselfish suit-at- +law he had been persuaded to begin, nevertheless so miscalculated the force of +the social vengeance he was unloosing on himself that he fancied it could be +stayed by putting up the editor of "The Saturday Review" (as Mr. Harris then +was) to declare that he considered "Dorian Gray" a highly moral book, which it +certainly is. When Harris foretold him the truth, Wilde denounced him as a +faint-hearted friend who was failing him in his hour of need and left the room +in anger. Harris's idiosyncratic power of pity saved him from feeling or +showing the smallest resentment; and events presently proved to Wilde how +insanely he had been advised in taking the action, and how accurately Harris +had gauged the situation.") + +Left to myself I was at a loss to imagine what Lord Alfred Douglas proposed to +himself by hounding Oscar on to attack his father. I was still more surprised +by his white, bitter face. I could not get rid of the impression it left on +me. While groping among these reflections I was suddenly struck by a sort of +likeness, a similarity of expression and of temper between Lord Alfred Douglas +and his unhappy father. I could not get it out of my head--that little face +blanched with rage and the wild, hating eyes; the shrill voice, too, was +Queensberry's. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII--OSCAR ATTACKS QUEENSBERRY AND IS WORSTED + + + +It was weakness in Oscar and not strength that allowed him to be driven to the +conflict by Lord Alfred Douglas; it was his weakness again which prevented him +from abandoning the prosecution, once it was begun. Such a resolution would +have involved a breaking away from his associates and from his friends; a +personal assertion of will of which he was incapable. Again and again he +answered my urging with: + +"I can't, Frank, I can't." + +When I pointed out to him that the defence was growing bolder--it was announced +one morning in the newspapers that Lord Queensberry, instead of pleading +paternal privilege and minimising his accusation, was determined to justify +the libel and declare that it was true in every particular--Oscar could only +say weakly: + +"I can't help it, Frank, I can't do anything; you only distress me by +predicting disaster." + +The fibres of resolution, never strong in him, had been destroyed by years of +self-indulgence, while the influence whipping him was stronger than I guessed. +He was hurried like a sheep to the slaughter. + +Although everyone who cared to think knew that Queensberry would win the case, +many persons believed that Oscar would make a brilliant intellectual fight, and +carry off the honours, if not the verdict. + +The trial took place at the Central Criminal Court on April 3rd, 1895. Mr. +Justice Collins was the judge and the case was conducted at first with the +outward seemliness and propriety which are so peculiarly English. An hour +before the opening of the case the Court was crowded, not a seat to be had +for love or money: even standing room was at a premium. + +The Counsel were the best at the Bar; Sir Edward Clarke, Q.C., Mr. Charles +Mathews, and Mr. Travers Humphreys for the prosecution; Mr. Carson, Q.C., +Mr. G. C. Gill and Mr. A. Gill for the defence. Mr. Besley, Q.C., and +Mr. Monckton watched the case, it was said, for the brothers, Lord Douglas +of Hawick and Lord Alfred Douglas. + +While waiting for the judge, the buzz of talk in the court grew loud; +everybody agreed that the presence of Sir Edward Clarke gave Oscar an advantage. +Mr. Carson was not so well known then as he has since become; he was regarded +as a sharp-witted Irishman who had still his spurs to win. Some knew he had +been at school with Oscar, and at Trinity College was as high in the second +class as Oscar was in the first. It was said he envied Oscar his reputation +for brilliance. + +Suddenly the loud voice of the clerk called for silence. + +As the judge appeared everyone stood up and in complete stillness Sir Edward +Clarke opened for the prosecution. The bleak face, long upper lip and severe +side whiskers made the little man look exactly like a nonconformist parson of +the old days, but his tone and manner were modern--quiet and conversational. +The charge, he said, was that the defendant had published a false and malicious +libel against Mr. Oscar Wilde. The libel was in the form of a card which Lord +Queensberry had left at a club to which Mr. Oscar Wilde belonged: it could not +be justified unless the statements written on the card were true. It would, +however, have been possible to have excused the card by a strong feeling, a +mistaken feeling, on the part of a father, but the plea which the defendant +had brought before the Court raised graver issues. He said that the statement +was true and was made for the public benefit. There were besides a series of +accusations in the plea (everyone held his breath), mentioning names of persons, +and it was said with regard to these persons that Mr. Wilde had solicited them +to commit a grave offence and that he had been guilty with each and all of them +of indecent practices. . . ." My heart seemed to stop. My worst forebodings +were more than justified. Vaguely I heard Clarke's voice, "grave responsibility +. . . . serious allegations . . . . credible witnesses . . . . Mr. Oscar +Wilde was the son of Sir William Wilde . . . ." the voice droned on and I awoke +to feverish clearness of brain. Queensberry had turned the defence into a +prosecution. Why had he taken the risk? Who had given him the new and precise +information? I felt that there was nothing before Oscar but ruin absolute. +Could anything be done? Even now he could go abroad--even now. I resolved +once more to try and induce him to fly. + +My interest turned from these passionate imaginings to the actual. Would Sir +Edward Clarke fight the case as it should be fought? He had begun to tell of +the friendship between Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas; the friendship too +between Oscar Wilde and Lady Queensberry, who on her own petition had been +divorced from the Marquis; would he go on to paint the terrible ill-feeling that +existed between Lord Alfred Douglas and his father, and show how Oscar had been +dragged into the bitter family squabble? To the legal mind this had but little +to do with the case. + +We got, instead, a dry relation of the facts which have already been set forth +in this history. Wright, the porter of the Albemarle Club, was called to say +that Lord Queensberry had handed him the card produced. Witness had looked +at the card; did not understand it; but put it in an envelope and gave it to +Mr. Wilde. + +Mr. Oscar Wilde was then called and went into the witness box. He looked a +little grave but was composed and serious. Sir Edward Clarke took him briefly +through the incidents of his life: his successes at school and the University; +the attempts made to blackmail him, the insults of Lord Queensberry, and then +directed his attention to the allegations in the plea impugning his conduct with +different persons. Mr. Oscar Wilde declared that there was no truth in any of +these statements. Hereupon Sir Edward Clarke sat down. Mr. Carson rose and the +death duel began. + +Mr. Carson brought out that Oscar Wilde was forty years of age and Lord Alfred +Douglas twenty-four. Down to the interview in Tite Street Lord Queensberry had +been friendly with Mr. Wilde. + +"Had Mr. Wilde written in a publication called "The Chameleon"?" + +"Yes." + +"Had he written there a story called 'The Priest and the Acolyte'?" + +"No." + +"Was that story immoral?" + +Oscar amused everyone by replying: + +"Much worse than immoral, it was badly written," but feeling that this gibe was +too light for the occasion he added: + +"It was altogether offensive and perfect twaddle." + +He admitted at once that he did not express his disapproval of it; it was +beneath him "to concern himself with the effusions of an illiterate +undergraduate." + +"Did Mr. Wilde ever consider the effect in his writings of inciting to +immorality?" + +Oscar declared that he aimed neither at good nor evil, but tried to make a +beautiful thing. When questioned as to the immorality in thought in the article +in "The Chameleon", he retorted "that there is no such thing as morality or +immorality in thought." A hum of understanding and approval ran through the +court; the intellect is profoundly amoral. + +Again and again he scored in this way off Mr. Carson. + +"No work of art ever puts forward views; views belong to the Philistines and +not to artists." . . . . + +"What do you think of this view?" + +"I don't think of any views except my own." + +All this while Mr. Carson had been hitting at a man on his own level; but Oscar +Wilde was above him and not one of his blows had taken effect. Every moment, +too, Oscar grew more and more at his ease, and the combat seemed to be turning +completely in his favour. Mr. Carson at length took up "Dorian Gray" and began +cross-examining on passages in it. + +"You talk about one man adoring another. Did you ever adore any man?" + +"No," replied Oscar quietly, "I have never adored anyone but myself." + +The Court roared with laughter. Oscar went on: + +"There are people in the world, I regret to say, who cannot understand the deep +affection that an artist can feel for a friend with a beautiful personality." + +He was then questioned about his letter (already quoted here) to Lord Alfred +Douglas. It was a prose-poem, he said, written in answer to a sonnet. He had +not written to other people in the same strain, not even to Lord Alfred Douglas +again: he did not repeat himself in style. + +Mr. Carson read another letter from Oscar Wilde to Lord Alfred Douglas, which +paints their relations with extraordinary exactness. Here it is: + +Savoy Hotel, + +Victoria Embankment, London. + +Dearest of all boys,-- + +Your letter was delightful, red and yellow wine to me; but I am sad and out of +sorts. Bosie, you must not make scenes with me. They kill me, they wreck the +loveliness of life. I cannot see you, so Greek and gracious, distorted with +passion. I cannot listen to your curved lips saying hideous things to me. I +would sooner ('here a word is indecipherable,' Mr. Carson went on, 'but I will +ask the witness') (The words which Mr. Carson could not read were: "I would +sooner be rented than, etc." Rent is a slang term for blackmail.)--than have +you bitter, unjust, hating. . . . . I must see you soon. You are the divine +thing I want, the thing of genius and beauty; but I don't know how to do it. +Shall I come to Salisbury? My bill here is L49 for a week. I have also got +a new sitting-room. . . . . Why are you not here, my dear, my wonderful boy? +I fear I must leave--no money, no credit, and a heart of lead. + +Your own Oscar. + +Oscar said that it was an expression of his tender admiration for Lord Alfred +Douglas. + +"You have said," Mr. Carson went on, "that all the statements about persons in +the plea of justification were false. Do you still hold to that assertion?" + +"I do." + +Mr. Carson then paused and looked at the Judge. Justice Collins shuffled his +papers together and announced that the cross-examination would be continued on +the morrow. As the Judge went out, all the tongues in the court broke loose. +Oscar was surrounded by friends congratulating him and rejoicing. + +I was not so happy and went away to think the matter out. I tried to keep up +my courage by recalling the humorous things Oscar had said during the cross- +examination. I recalled too the dull commonplaces of Mr. Carson. I tried to +persuade myself that it was all going on very well. But in the back of my mind +I realised that Oscar's answers, characteristic and clever as many of them were, +had not impressed the jury, were indeed rather calculated to alienate them. He +had taken the purely artistic standpoint, had not attempted to go higher and +reach a synthesis which would conciliate the Philistine jurymen as well as the +thinking public, and the Judge. + +Mr. Carson was in closer touch with the jury, being nearer their intellectual +level, and there was a terrible menace in his last words. Tomorrow, I said to +myself, he will begin to examine about persons and not books. He did not win +on the literary question, but he was right to bring it in. The passages he had +quoted, and especially Oscar's letters to Lord Alfred Douglas, had created a +strong prejudice in the minds of the jury. They ought not to have had this +effect, I thought, but they had. My contempt for Courts of law deepened: +those twelve jurymen were anything but the peers of the accused: how could they +judge him? + +. . . . . . . + +The second day of the trial was very different from the first. There seemed to +be a gloom over the Court. Oscar went into the box as if it had been the dock; +he had lost all his spring. Mr. Carson settled down to the cross-examination +with apparent zest. It was evident from his mere manner that he was coming to +what he regarded as the strong part of his case. He began by examining Oscar as +to his intimacy with a person named Taylor. + +"Has Taylor been to your house and to your chambers?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you been to Taylor's rooms to afternoon tea parties?" + +"Yes." + +"Did Taylor's rooms strike you as peculiar?" + +"They were pretty rooms." + +"Have you ever seen them lit by anything else but candles even in the day time?" + +"I think so. I'm not sure." + +"Have you ever met there a young man called Wood?" + +"On one occasion." + +"Have you ever met Sidney Mavor there at tea?" + +"It is possible." + +"What was your connection with Taylor?" + +"Taylor was a friend, a young man of intelligence and education: he had been to +a good English school." + +"Did you know Taylor was being watched by the police?" + +"No." + +"Did you know that Taylor was arrested with a man named Parker in a raid made +last year on a house in Fitzroy Square?" + +"I read of it in the newspaper." + +"Did that cause you to drop your acquaintance with Taylor?" + +"No; Taylor explained to me that he had gone there to a dance, and that the +magistrate had dismissed the case against him." + +"Did you get Taylor to arrange dinners for you to meet young men?" + +"No; I have dined with Taylor at a restaurant." + +"How many young men has Taylor introduced to you?" + +"Five in all." + +"Did you give money or presents to these five?" + +"I may have done." + +"Did they give you anything?" + +"Nothing." + +"Among the five men Taylor introduced you to, was one named Parker?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you get on friendly terms with him?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you call him 'Charlie' and allow him to call you 'Oscar'?" + +"Yes." + +"How old was Parker?" + +"I don't keep a census of people's ages. It would be vulgar to ask people +their age." + +"Where did you first meet Parker?" + +"I invited Taylor to Kettner's (A famous Italian restaurant in Soho: it had +several "private rooms.") on the occasion of my birthday, and told him to bring +what friends he liked. He brought Parker and his brother." + +"Did you know Parker was a gentleman's servant out of work, and his brother +a groom?" + +"No; I did not." + +"But you did know that Parker was not a literary character or an artist, and +that culture was not his strong point?" + +"I did." + +"What was there in common between you and Charlie Parker?" + +"I like people who are young, bright, happy, careless and original. I do not +like them sensible, and I do not like them old; I don't like social distinctions +of any kind, and the mere fact of youth is so wonderful to me that I would +sooner talk to a young man for half an hour than be cross examined by an +elderly Q.C." + +Everyone smiled at this retort. + +"Had you chambers in St. James's Place?" + +"Yes, from October, '93, to April, '94." + +"Did Charlie Parker go and have tea with you there?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you give him money?" + +"I gave him three or four pounds because he said he was hard up." + +"What did he give you in return?" + +"Nothing." + +"Did you give Charlie Parker a silver cigarette case at Christmas?" + +"I did." + +"Did you visit him one night at 12:30 at Park Walk, Chelsea?" + +"I did not." + +"Did you write him any beautiful prose-poems?" + +"I don't think so." + +"Did you know that Charlie Parker had enlisted in the Army?" + +"I have heard so." + +"When you heard that Taylor was arrested what did you do?" + +"I was greatly distressed and wrote to tell him so." + +"When did you first meet Fred Atkins?" + +"In October or November, '92." + +"Did he tell you that he was employed by a firm of bookmakers?" + +"He may have done." + +"Not a literary man or an artist, was he?" + +"No." + +"What age was he?" + +"Nineteen or twenty." + +"Did you ask him to dinner at Kettner's?" + +"I think I met him at a dinner at Kettner's." + +"Was Taylor at the dinner?" + +"He may have been." + +"Did you meet him afterwards?" + +"I did." + +"Did you call him 'Fred' and let him call you 'Oscar'?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you go to Paris with him?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you give him money?" + +"Yes." + +"Was there ever any impropriety between you?" + +"No." + +"When did you first meet Ernest Scarfe?" + +"In December, 1893." + +"Who introduced him to you?" + +"Taylor." + +"Scarfe was out of work, was he not?" + +"He may have been." + +"Did Taylor bring Scarfe to you at St. James's Place?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you give Scarfe a cigarette case?" + +"Yes: it was my custom to give cigarette cases to people I liked." + +"When did you first meet Mavor?" + +"In '93." + +"Did you give him money or a cigarette case?" + +"A cigarette case." + +"Did you know Walter Grainger?" . . . . and so on till the very air in the court +seemed peopled with spectres. + +On the whole Oscar bore the cross-examination very well; but he made one +appalling slip. + +Mr. Carson was pressing him as to his relations with the boy Grainger, who had +been employed in Lord Alfred Douglas' rooms in Oxford. + +"Did you ever kiss him?" he asked. + +Oscar answered carelessly, "Oh, dear, no. He was a peculiarly plain boy. +He was, unfortunately, extremely ugly. I pitied him for it." + +"Was that the reason why you did not kiss him?" + +"Oh, Mr. Carson, you are pertinently insolent." + +"Did you say that in support of your statement that you never kissed him?" + +"No. It is a childish question." + +But Carson was not to be warded off; like a terrier he sprang again and again: + +"Why, sir, did you mention that this boy was extremely ugly?" + +"For this reason. If I were asked why I did not kiss a door-mat, I should say +because I do not like to kiss door-mats." . . . . . . + +"Why did you mention his ugliness?" + +"It is ridiculous to imagine that any such thing could have occurred under +any circumstances." + +"Then why did you mention his ugliness, I ask you?" + +"Because you insulted me by an insulting question." + +"Was that a reason why you should say the boy was ugly?" + +(Here the witness began several answers almost inarticulately and finished +none of them. His efforts to collect his ideas were not aided by Mr. Carson's +sharp staccato repetition: "Why? why? why did you add that?") At last the +witness answered: + +"You sting me and insult me and at times one says things flippantly." + +Then came the re-examination by Sir Edward Clarke, which brought out very +clearly the hatred of Lord Alfred Douglas for his father. Letters were read +and in one letter Queensberry declared that Oscar had plainly shown the white +feather when he called on him. One felt that this was probably true: +Queensberry's word on such a point could be accepted. + +In the reexamination Sir Edward Clarke occupied himself chiefly with two youths, +Shelley and Conway, who had been passed over casually by Mr. Carson. In answer +to his questions Oscar stated that Shelley was a youth in the employ of Mathews +and Lane, the publishers. Shelley had very good taste in literature and a great +desire for culture. Shelley had read all his books and liked them. Shelley +had dined with him and his wife at Tite Street. Shelley was in every way a +gentleman. He had never gone with Charlie Parker to the Savoy Hotel. + +A juryman wanted to know at this point whether the witness was aware of the +nature of the article, "The Priest and the Acolyte," in "The Chameleon". + +"I knew nothing of it; it came as a terrible shock to me." + +This answer contrasted strangely with the light tone of his reply to the same +question on the previous day. + +The reexamination did not improve Oscar's position. It left all the facts where +they were, and at least a suspicion in every mind. + +Sir Edward Clarke intimated that this concluded the evidence for the +prosecution, whereupon Mr. Carson rose to make the opening speech for the +defence. I was shivering with apprehension. + +He began by admitting the grave responsibility resting on Lord Queensberry, who +accepted it to the fullest. Lord Queensberry was justified in doing all he +could do to cut short an acquaintance which must be disastrous to his son. Mr. +Carson wished to draw the attention of the jury to the fact that all these men +with whom Mr. Wilde went about were discharged servants and grooms, and that +they were all about the same age. He asked the jury also to note that Taylor, +who was the pivot of the whole case, had not yet been put in the box. Why not? +He pointed out to the jury that the very same idea that was set forth in "The +Priest and the Acolyte" was contained in Oscar Wilde's letters to Lord Alfred +Douglas, and the same idea was to be found in Lord Alfred Douglas' poem, "The +Two Loves," (This early poem of Lord Alfred Douglas is reproduced in the +Appendix at the end of this book together with another poem by the same author, +which was also mentioned in the course of the trial.) which was published in +"The Chameleon". He went on to say that when, in the story of "The Priest and +the Acolyte," the boy was discovered in the priest's bed, (Mr. Carson here made +a mistake; there is no such incident in the story: the error merely shows how +prejudiced his mind was.) the priest made the same defence as Mr. Wilde had +made, that the world does not understand the beauty of this love. The same idea +was found again in "Dorian Gray," and he read two or three passages from the +book in support of this statement. Mr. Wilde had described his letter to Lord +Alfred Douglas as a prose sonnet. He would read it again to the court, and he +read both the letters. "Mr. Wilde says they are beautiful," he went on, "I call +them an abominable piece of disgusting immorality." + +At this the Judge again shuffled his papers together and whispered in a quiet +voice that the court would sit on the morrow, and left the room. + +The honours of the day had all been with Mr. Carson. Oscar left the box in a +depressed way. One or two friends came towards him, but the majority held +aloof, and in almost unbroken silence everyone slipped out of the court. +Strange to say in my mind there was just a ray of hope. Mr. Carson was still +laying stress on the article in "The Chameleon" and scattered passages in +"Dorian Gray"; on Oscar's letters to Lord Alfred Douglas and Lord Alfred +Douglas' poems in "The Chameleon". He must see, I thought, that all this was +extremely weak. Sir Edward Clarke could be trusted to tear all such arguments, +founded on literary work, to shreds. There was room for more than reasonable +doubt about all such things. + +Why had not Mr. Carson put some of the young men he spoke of in the box? Would +he be able to do that? He talked of Taylor as "the pivot of the case," and +gibed at the prosecution for not putting Taylor in the box. Would he put Taylor +in the box? And why, if he had such witnesses at his beck and call, should he +lay stress on the flimsy, weak evidence to be drawn from passages in books and +poems and letters? One thing was clear: if he was able to put any of the young +men in the box about whom he had examined Oscar, Oscar was ruined. Even if he +rested his defence on the letters and poems he'd win and Oscar would be +discredited, for already it was clear that no jury would give Oscar Wilde a +verdict against a father trying to protect his son. The issue had narrowed down +to terrible straits: would it be utter ruin to Oscar or merely loss of the case +and reputation? We had only sixteen hours to wait; they seemed to me to hold +the last hope. + +I drove to Tite Street, hoping to see Oscar. I was convinced that Carson had +important witnesses at his command, and that the outcome of the case would be +disastrous. Why should not Oscar even now, this very evening, cross to Calais, +leaving a letter for his counsel and the court abandoning the idiotic +prosecution. + +The house at Tite Street seemed deserted. For some time no one answered my +knocking and ringing, and then a man-servant simply told me that Mr. Wilde was +not in: he did not know whether Mr. Wilde was expected back or not; did not +think he was coming back. I turned and went home. I thought Oscar would +probably say to me again: + +"I can do nothing, Frank, nothing." + +. . . . . . . + +The feeling in the court next morning was good tempered, even jaunty. The +benches were filled with young barristers, all of whom had made up their minds +that the testimony would be what one of them called "nifty." Everyone treated +the case as practically over. + +"But will Carson call witnesses?" I asked. + +"Of course he will," they said, "but in any case Wilde does not stand a ghost of +a chance of getting a verdict against Queensberry; he was a bally fool to bring +such an action." + +"The question is," said someone, "will Wilde face the music?" + +My heart leapt. Perhaps he had gone, fled already to France to avoid this +dreadful, useless torture. I could see the hounds with open mouths, dripping +white fangs, and greedy eyes all closing in on the defenceless quarry. Would +the huntsman give the word? We were not left long in doubt. + +Mr. Carson continued his statement for the defence. He had sufficiently +demonstrated to the jury, he thought, that, so far as Lord Queensberry was +concerned, he was absolutely justified in bringing to a climax in the way he +had, the connection between Mr. Oscar Wilde and his son. A dramatic pause. + +A moment later the clever advocate resumed: unfortunately he had a more painful +part of the case to approach. It would be his painful duty to bring before them +one after the other the young men he had examined Mr. Wilde about and allow them +to tell their tales. In no one of these cases were these young men on an +equality in any way with Mr. Wilde. Mr. Wilde had told them that there was +something beautiful and charming about youth which led him to make these +acquaintances. That was a travesty of the facts. Mr. Wilde preferred to know +nothing of these young men and their antecedents. He knew nothing about Wood; +he knew nothing about Parker; he knew nothing about Scarfe, nothing about +Conway, and not much about Taylor. The truth was Taylor was the procurer for +Mr. Wilde and the jury would hear from this young man Parker, who would have to +tell his unfortunate story to them, that he was poor, out of a place, had no +money, and unfortunately fell a victim to Mr. Wilde. (Sir Edward Clarke here +left the court.) + +On the first evening they met, Mr. Wilde called Parker "Charlie" and Parker +called Mr. Wilde "Oscar." It may be a very noble instinct in some people to +wish to break down social barriers, but Mr. Wilde's conduct was not ordered by +generous instincts. Luxurious dinners and champagne were not the way to assist +a poor man. Parker would tell them that, after this first dinner, Mr. Wilde +invited him to drive with him to the Savoy Hotel. Mr. Wilde had not told them +why he had that suite of rooms at the Savoy Hotel. Parker would tell them what +happened on arriving there. This was the scandal Lord Queensberry had referred +to in his letter as far back as June or July last year. The jury would wonder +not at the reports having reached Lord Queensberry's ears, but that Oscar Wilde +had been tolerated in London society as long as he had been. Parker had since +enlisted in the Army, and bore a good character. Mr. Wilde himself had said +that Parker was respectable. Parker would reluctantly present himself to tell +his story to the jury. + +All this time the court was hushed with awe and wonder; everyone was asking what +on earth had induced Wilde to begin the prosecution; what madness had driven him +and why had he listened to the insane advice to bring the action when he must +have known the sort of evidence which could be brought against him. + +After promising to produce Parker and the others Mr. Carson stopped speaking +and began looking through his papers; when he began again, everyone held his +breath; what was coming now? He proceeded in the same matter-of-fact and +serious way to deal with the case of the youth, Conway. Conway, it appeared, +had known Mr. Wilde and his family at Worthing. Conway was sixteen years of +age. . . . . At this moment Sir Edward Clarke returned with Mr. Charles Mathews, +and asked permission of the judge to have a word or two with Mr. Carson. At the +close of a few minutes' talk between the counsel, Sir Edward Clarke rose and +told the Judge that after communicating with Mr. Oscar Wilde he thought it +better to withdraw the prosecution and submit to a verdict of "not guilty." + +He minimised the defeat. He declared that, in respect to matters connected +with literature and the letters, he could not resist the verdict of "not +guilty," having regard to the fact that Lord Queensberry had not used a direct +accusation, but the words "posing as," etc. Besides, he wished to spare the +jury the necessity of investigating in detail matter of the most appalling +character. He wished to make an end of the case--and he sat down. + +Why on earth did Sir Edward Clarke not advise Oscar in this way weeks before? +Why did he not tell him his case could not possibly be won? + +I have heard since on excellent authority that before taking up the case Sir +Edward Clarke asked Oscar Wilde whether he was guilty or not, and accepted in +good faith his assurance that he was innocent. As soon as he realised, in +court, the strength of the case against Oscar he advised him to abandon the +prosecution. To his astonishment Oscar was eager to abandon it. Sir Edward +Clarke afterwards defended his unfortunate client out of loyalty and pity, Oscar +again assuring him of his innocence. + +Mr. Carson rose at once and insisted, as was his right, that this verdict of +"not guilty" must be understood to mean that Lord Queensberry had succeeded in +his plea of justification. + +Mr. Justice Collins thought that it was not part of the function of the Judge +and jury to insist on wading through prurient details, which had no bearing on +the matter at issue, which had already been decided by the consent of the +prosecutors to a verdict of "not guilty." Such a verdict meant of course that +the plea of justification was proved. The jury having consulted for a few +moments, the Clerk of Arraigns asked: + +"Do you find the plea of justification has been proved or not?" + +Foreman: "Yes." + +"You say that the defendant is 'not guilty,' and that is the verdict of +you all?" + +Foreman: "Yes, and we also find that it is for the public benefit." + +The last kick to the dead lion. As the verdict was read out the spectators +in the court burst into cheers. + +Mr. Carson: "Of course the costs of the defence will follow?" + +Mr. Justice Collins: "Yes." + +Mr. C. F. Gill: "And Lord Queensberry may be discharged?" + +Mr. Justice Collins: "Certainly." + +The Marquis of Queensberry left the dock amid renewed cheering, which was taken +up again and again in the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV--HOW GENIUS IS PERSECUTED IN ENGLAND + + + +The English are very proud of their sense of justice, proud too of their Roman +law and the practice of the Courts in which they have incorporated it. They +boast of their fair play in all things as the French boast of their lightness, +and if you question it, you lose caste with them, as one prejudiced or ignorant +or both. English justice cannot be bought, they say, and if it is dear, +excessively dear even, they rather like to feel they have paid a long price for +a good article. Yet it may be that here, as in other things, they take outward +propriety and decorum for the inward and ineffable grace. That a judge should +be incorruptible is not so important as that he should be wise and humane. + +English journalists and barristers were very much amused at the conduct of +the Dreyfus case; yet, when Dreyfus was being tried for the second time in +France, two or three instances of similar injustice in England were set forth +with circumstance in one of the London newspapers, but no one paid any effective +attention to them. If Dreyfus had been convicted in England, it is probable +that no voice would ever have been raised in his favour; it is absolutely +certain that there would never have been a second trial. A keen sense of +abstract justice is only to be found in conjunction with a rich fount of +imaginative sympathy. The English are too self-absorbed to take much interest +in their neighbours' affairs, too busy to care for abstract questions of right +or wrong. + +Before the trial of Oscar Wilde I still believed that in a criminal case rough +justice would be done in England. The bias of an English judge, I said to +myself, is always in favour of the accused. It is an honourable tradition of +English procedure that even the Treasury barristers should state rather less +than they can prove against the unfortunate person who is being attacked by all +the power and authority of the State. I was soon forced to see that these +honourable and praiseworthy conventions were as withes of straw in the fire of +English prejudice. The first thing to set me doubting was that the judge did +not try to check the cheering in Court after the verdict in favour of Lord +Queensberry. English judges always resent and resist such popular outbursts: +why not in this case? After all, no judge could think Queensberry a hero: he +was too well known for that, and yet the cheering swelled again and again, and +the judge gathered up his papers without a word and went his way as if he were +deaf. A dreadful apprehension crept over me: in spite of myself I began to +realise that my belief in English justice might be altogether mistaken. It was +to me as if the solid earth had become a quaking bog, or indeed as if a child +had suddenly discovered its parent to be shameless. The subsequent trials are +among the most painful experiences of my life. I shall try to set down all the +incidents fairly. + +One peculiarity had first struck me in the conduct of the case between Oscar +Wilde and Lord Queensberry that did not seem to occur to any of the numberless +journalists and writers who commented on the trial. It was apparent from his +letter to his son (which I published in a previous chapter), and from the fact +that he called at Oscar Wilde's house that Lord Queensberry at the beginning +did not believe in the truth of his accusations; he set them forth as a violent +man sets forth hearsay and suspicion, knowing that as a father he could do this +with impunity, and accordingly at first he pleaded privilege. Some time between +the beginning of the prosecution and the trial, he obtained an immense amount +of unexpected evidence. He then justified his libel and gave the names of the +persons whom he intended to call to prove his case. Where did he get this new +knowledge? + +I have spoken again and again in the course of this narrative of Oscar's +enemies, asserting that the English middle-class as puritans detested his +attitude and way of life, and if some fanatic or representative of the +nonconformist conscience had hunted up evidence against Wilde and brought him +to ruin there would have been nothing extraordinary in a vengeance which might +have been regarded as a duty. Strange to say the effective hatred of Oscar +Wilde was shown by a man of the upper class who was anything but a puritan. +It was Mr. Charles Brookfield, I believe, who constituted himself private +prosecutor in this case and raked Piccadilly to find witnesses against Oscar +Wilde. Mr. Brookfield was afterwards appointed Censor of Plays on the strength +apparently of having himself written one of the "riskiest" plays of the period. +As I do not know Mr. Brookfield, I will not judge him. But his appointment +always seemed to me, even before I knew that he had acted against Wilde, +curiously characteristic of English life and of the casual, contemptuous way +Englishmen of the governing class regard letters. In the same spirit Lord +Salisbury as Prime Minister made a journalist Poet Laureate simply because he +had puffed him for years in the columns of "The Standard." Lord Salisbury +probably neither knew nor cared that Alfred Austin had never written a line that +could live. One thing Mr. Brookfield's witnesses established: every offence +alleged against Oscar Wilde dated from 1892 or later--after his first meeting +with Lord Alfred Douglas. + +But at the time all such matters were lost for me in the questions: would the +authorities arrest Oscar? or would they allow him to escape? Had the police +asked for a warrant? Knowing English custom and the desire of Englishmen to +pass in silence over all unpleasant sexual matters, I thought he would be given +the hint to go abroad and allowed to escape. That is the ordinary, the usual +English procedure. Everyone knows the case of a certain lord, notorious for +similar practices, who was warned by the police that a warrant had been issued +against him: taking the hint he has lived for many years past in leisured ease +as an honoured guest in Florence. Nor is it only aristocrats who are so +favoured by English justice: everyone can remember the case of a Canon of +Westminster who was similarly warned and also escaped. We can come down the +social scale to the very bottom and find the same practice. A certain +journalist unwittingly offended a great personage. Immediately he was warned by +the police that a warrant issued against him in India seventeen years before +would at once be acted upon if he did not make himself scarce. For some time +he lived in peaceful retirement in Belgium. Moreover, in all these cases the +warrants had been issued on the sworn complaints of the parties damnified or of +their parents and guardians: no one had complained of Oscar Wilde. Naturally +I thought the dislike of publicity which dictated such lenience to the lord and +the canon and the journalist would be even more operative in the case of a man +of genius like Oscar Wilde. In certain ways he had a greater position than even +the son of a duke: the shocking details of his trial would have an appalling, +a world-wide publicity. + +Besides, I said to myself, the governing class in England is steeped in +aristocratic prejudice, and particularly when threatened by democratic +innovations, all superiorities, whether of birth or wealth, or talent, are +conscious of the same "raison d'etre" and have the same self-interest. The +lord, the millionaire and the genius have all the same reason for standing up +for each other, and this reason is usually effective. Everyone knows that in +England the law is emphatically a respecter of persons. It is not there to +promote equality, much less is it the defender of the helpless, the weak and the +poor; it is a rampart for the aristocracy and the rich, a whip in the hands of +the strong. It is always used to increase the effect of natural and inherited +inequality, and it is not directed by a high feeling of justice; but perverted +by aristocratic prejudice and snobbishness; it is not higher than democratic +equality, but lower and more sordid. + +The case was just a case where an aristocratic society could and should have +shown its superiority over a democratic society with its rough rule of equality. +For equality is only half-way on the road to justice. More than once the House +of Commons has recognised this fundamental truth; it condemned Clive but added +that he had rendered "great and distinguished services to his country"; and no +one thought of punishing him for his crimes. + +Our time is even more tolerant and more corrupt. For a worse crime than +extortion Cecil Rhodes was not even brought to trial, but honoured and feted, +while his creatures, who were condemned by the House of Commons Committee, were +rewarded by the Government. + +Had not Wilde also rendered distinguished services to his country? The wars +waged against the Mashonas and Matabeles were a doubtful good; but the plays of +Oscar Wilde had already given many hours of innocent pleasure to thousands of +persons, and were evidently destined to benefit tens of thousands in the future. +Such a man is a benefactor of humanity in the best and truest sense, and +deserves peculiar consideration. + +To the society favourite the discredit of the trial with Lord Queensberry was in +itself a punishment more than sufficient. Everyone knew when Oscar Wilde left +the court that he left it a ruined and disgraced man. Was it worth while to +stir up all the foul mud again in order to beat the beaten? Alas! the English +are pedants, as Goethe saw; they think little of literary men, or of merely +spiritual achievements. They love to abide by rules and pay no heed to +exceptions, unless indeed the exceptions are men of title or great wealth, or +"persons of importance" to the Government. The majority of the people are too +ignorant to know the value of a book and they regard poetry as the thistledown +of speech. It does not occur to Englishmen that a phrase may be more valuable +and more enduring in its effects than a long campaign and a dozen victories. +Yet, the sentence, "Let him that is without sin among you first cast the stone," +or Shakespeare's version of the same truth: "if we had our deserts which of us +would escape whipping?" is likely to outlast the British Empire, and prove of +more value to humanity. + +The man of genius in Great Britain is feared and hated in exact proportion to +his originality, and if he happens to be a writer or a musician he is despised +to boot. The prejudice against Oscar Wilde showed itself virulently on all +hands. Mr. Justice Collins did not attempt to restrain the cheering of the +court that greeted the success of Lord Queensberry. Not one of the policemen +who stood round the door tried to stop the "booing" of the crowd who pursued +Oscar Wilde with hootings and vile cries when he left the court. He was judged +already and condemned before being tried. + +The police, too, acted against him with extraordinary vigour. It has been +stated by Mr. Sherard in his "Life" that the police did not attempt to execute +the warrant against Wilde, "till after the last train had left for Dover," and +that it was only Oscar's obstinacy in remaining in London that necessitated his +arrest. This idea is wholly imaginary. + +It is worth while to know exactly what took place at this juncture. From +Oscar's conduct in this crisis the reader will be able to judge whether he has +been depicted faithfully or not in this book. He has been described as amiable, +weak, of a charming disposition--easily led in action, though not in thought: +now we shall see how far we were justified, for he is at one of those moments +which try the soul. Fortunately every incident of that day is known: Oscar +himself told me generally what happened and the minutest details of the picture +were filled in for me a little later by his best friend, Robert Ross. + +In the morning Mr. Mathews, one of Oscar's counsel, came to him and said: +"If you wish it, Clarke and I will keep the case going and give you time to +get to Calais." + +Oscar refused to stir. "I'll stay," was all he would say. Robert Ross urged +him to accept Mathew's offer; but he would not: why? I am sure he had no +reason, for I put the question to him more than once, and even after reflecting, +he had no explanation to give. He stayed because to stay was easier than to +make an immediate decision and act on it energetically. He had very little will +power to begin with and his mode of life had weakened his original endowment. + +After the judgment had been given in favour of Queensberry, Oscar drove off +in a brougham, accompanied by Alfred Douglas, to consult with his solicitor, +Humphreys. At the same time he gave Ross a cheque on his bank in St. James's +Street. At that moment he intended to fly. + +Ross noticed that he was followed by a detective. He drew about L200 from the +bank and raced off to meet Oscar at the Cadogan Hotel, in Sloane Street, where +Lord Alfred Douglas had been staying for the past four or five weeks. Ross +reached the Cadogan Hotel about 1.45 and found Oscar there with Reggie Turner. +Both of them advised Oscar to go at once to Dover and try to get to France; but +he would only say, "the train has gone; it is too late." He had again lapsed +into inaction. + +He asked Ross to go to see his wife and tell her what had occurred. Ross did +this and had a very painful scene: Mrs. Wilde wept and said, "I hope Oscar is +going away abroad." + +Ross returned to the Cadogan Hotel and told Oscar what his wife had said, but +even this didn't move him to action. + +He sat as if glued to his chair, and drank hock and seltzer steadily in almost +unbroken silence. About four o'clock George Wyndham came to see his cousin, +Alfred Douglas; not finding him, he wanted to see Oscar, but Oscar, fearing +reproaches, sent Ross instead. Wyndham said it was a pity that Bosie Douglas +should be with Oscar, and Ross immediately told him that Wilde's friends for +years past had been trying to separate them and that if he, Wyndham, would keep +his cousin away, he would be doing Oscar the very greatest kindness. At this +Wyndham grew more civil, though still "frightfully agitated," and begged Ross to +get Oscar to leave the country at once to avoid scandal. Ross replied that he +and Turner had been trying to bring that about for hours. In the middle of the +conversation Bosie, having returned, burst into the room with: "I want to see my +cousin," and Ross rejoined Oscar. In a quarter of an hour Bosie followed him to +say that he was going out with Wyndham to see someone of importance. + +About five o'clock a reporter of the "Star" newspaper came to see Oscar, a +Mr. Marlowe, who is now editor of "The Daily Mail", but again Oscar refused to +see him and sent Ross. Mr. Marlowe was sympathetic and quite understood the +position; he informed Ross that a tape message had come through to the paper +saying that a warrant for Oscar Wilde had already been issued. Ross immediately +went into the other room and told Oscar, who said nothing, but "went very grey +in the face." + +A moment later Oscar asked Ross to give him the money he had got at the bank, +though he had refused it several times in the course of the day. Ross gave it +to him, naturally taking it for a sign that he had at length made up his mind +to start, but immediately afterwards Oscar settled down in his chair and said, +"I shall stay and do my sentence whatever it is"--a man evidently incapable +of action. + +For the next hour the trio sat waiting for the blow to fall. Once or twice +Oscar asked querulously where Bosie was, but no one could tell him. + +At ten past six the waiter knocked at the door and Ross answered it. There were +two detectives. The elder entered and said, "We have a warrant here, Mr. Wilde, +for your arrest on a charge of committing indecent acts." Wilde wanted to know +whether he would be given bail; the detective replied: + +"That is a question for the magistrate." + +Oscar then rose and asked, "Where shall I be taken?" + +"To Bow Street," was the reply. + +As he picked up a copy of the Yellow Book and groped for his overcoat, they +all noticed that he was "very drunk" though still perfectly conscious of what +he was doing. + +He asked Ross to go to Tite Street and get him a change of clothes and bring +them to Bow Street. The two detectives took him away in a four-wheeler, leaving +Ross and Turner on the curb. + +Ross hurried to Tite Street. He found that Mrs. Oscar Wilde had gone to the +house of a relative and there was only Wilde's man servant, Arthur, in the +house, who afterwards went out of his mind, and is still, it is said, in an +asylum. He had an intense affection for Oscar. Ross found that Mrs. Oscar +Wilde had locked up Oscar's bedroom and study. He burst open the bedroom door +and, with the help of Arthur, packed up a change of things. He then hurried to +Bow Street, where he found a howling mob shouting indecencies. He was informed +by an inspector that it was impossible to see Wilde or to leave any clothes for +him. + +Ross returned at once to Tite Street, forced open the library door and removed +a certain number of letters and manuscripts of Wilde's; but unluckily he +couldn't find the two MSS. which he knew had been returned to Tite Street two +days before, namely, "A Florentine Tragedy" and the enlarged version of "The +Portrait of Mr. W. H." + +Ross then drove to his mother's and collapsed. Mrs. Ross insisted that he +should go abroad, and in order to induce him to do it gave L500 for Oscar's +defence. Ross went to the Terminus Hotel at Calais, where Bosie Douglas joined +him a little later. They both stayed there while Oscar was being tried before +Mr. Justice Charles and one day George Wyndham crossed the Channel to see Bosie +Douglas. + +There is of course some excuse to be made for the chief actor. Oscar was +physically tired and morally broken. He had pulled the fair building of +reputation and success down upon his own head, and, with the "booing" of the +mob still in his ears, he could think of nothing but the lost hours when he +ought to have used his money to take him beyond the reach of his pursuers. + +His enemies, on the other hand, had acted with the utmost promptitude. Lord +Queensberry's solicitor, Mr. Charles Russell, had stated that it was not his +client's intention to take the initiative in any criminal prosecution of +Mr. Oscar Wilde, but, on the very same morning when Wilde withdrew from the +prosecution, Mr. Russell sent a letter to the Hon. Hamilton Cuffe, the Director +of Public Prosecutions, with a copy of "all our witnesses' statements, together +with a copy of the shorthand notes of the trial." + +The Treasury authorities were at least as eager. As soon as possible after +leaving the court Mr. C. F. Gill, Mr. Angus Lewis, and Mr. Charles Russell +waited on Sir John Bridge at Bow Street in his private room and obtained a +warrant for the arrest of Oscar Wilde, which was executed, as we have seen, +the same evening. + +The police showed him less than no favour. About eight o'clock Lord Alfred +Douglas drove to Bow Street and wanted to know if Wilde could be bailed out, +but was informed that his application could not be entertained. He offered +to procure comforts for the prisoner: this offer also was peremptorily refused +by the police inspector just as Ross's offer of night clothes had been refused. +It is a common belief that in England a man is treated as innocent until he has +been proved guilty, but those who believe this pleasant fiction, have never been +in the hands of the English police. As soon as a man is arrested on any charge +he is at once treated as if he were a dangerous criminal; he is searched, for +instance, with every circumstance of indignity. Before his conviction a man is +allowed to wear his own clothes; but a change of linen or clothes is denied him, +or accorded in part and grudgingly, for no earthly reason except to gratify the +ill-will of the gaolers. + +The warrant on which Oscar Wilde was arrested charged him with an offence +alleged to have been committed under Section xi. of the Criminal Amendment Act +of 1885; in other words, he was arrested and tried for an offence which was not +punishable by law ten years before. This Act was brought in as a result of the +shameful and sentimental stories (evidently for the most part manufactured) +which Mr. Stead had published in "The Pall Mall Gazette" under the title of +"Modern Babylon." In order to cover and justify their prophet some of the "unco +guid" pressed forward this so-called legislative reform, by which it was made a +criminal offence to take liberties with a girl under thirteen years of age--even +with her own consent. Intimacy with minors under sixteen was punishable if they +consented or even tempted. Mr. Labouchere, the Radical member, inflamed, it is +said, with a desire to make the law ridiculous, gravely proposed that the +section be extended, so as to apply to people of the same sex who indulged in +familiarities or indecencies. The Puritan faction had no logical objection to +the extension, and it became the law of the land. It was by virtue of this +piece of legislative wisdom, which is without a model and without a copy in the +law of any other civilised country, that Oscar Wilde was arrested and thrown +into prison. + +His arrest was the signal for an orgy of Philistine rancour such as even London +had never known before. The puritan middle class, which had always regarded +Wilde with dislike as an artist and intellectual scoffer, a mere parasite of the +aristocracy, now gave free scope to their disgust and contempt, and everyone +tried to outdo his neighbour in expressions of loathing and abhorrence. This +middle class condemnation swept the lower class away in its train. To do them +justice, the common people, too, felt a natural loathing for the peculiar vice +attributed to Wilde; most men condemn the sins they have no mind to; but their +dislike was rather contemptuous than profound, and with customary humour they +soon turned the whole case into a bestial, obscene joke. "Oscar" took the place +of their favourite word as a term of contempt, and they shouted it at each other +on all sides; bus-drivers, cabbies and paper sellers using it in and out of +season with the keenest relish. For the moment the upper classes lay mum- +chance and let the storm blow over. Some of them of course agreed with the +condemnation of the Puritans, and many of them felt that Oscar and his +associates had been too bold, and ought to be pulled up. + +The English journals, which are nothing but middle-class shops, took the +side of their patrons. Without a single exception they outdid themselves in +condemnation of the man and all his works. You might have thought to read their +bitter diatribes that they themselves lived saintly lives, and were shocked at +sensual sin. One rubbed one's eyes in amazement. The Strand and Fleet Street, +which practically belong to this class and have been fashioned by them, are the +haunt of as vile a prostitution as can be found in Europe; the public houses +which these men frequent are low drinking dens; yet they all lashed Oscar Wilde +with every variety of insult as if they themselves had been above reproach. The +whole of London seemed to have broken loose in a rage of contempt and loathing +which was whipped up and justified each morning by the hypocritical articles of +the "unco guid" in the daily this and the weekly that. In the streets one heard +everywhere the loud jests of the vulgar, decked out with filthy anecdotes and +punctuated by obscene laughter, as from the mouth of the Pit. + +In spite of the hatred of the journalists pandering to the prejudice of their +paymasters, one could hope still that the magistrate would show some regard +for fair play. The expectation, reasonable or unreasonable, was doomed to +disappointment. On Saturday morning, the 6th, Oscar Wilde, "described as a +gentleman," the papers said in derision, was brought before Sir John Bridge. +Mr. C. F. Gill, who had been employed in the Queensberry trial, was instructed +by Mr. Angus Lewis of the Treasury, and conducted the prosecution; Alfred Taylor +was placed in the dock charged with conspiracy with Oscar Wilde. The witnesses +have already been described in connection with the Queensberry case. Charles +Parker, William Parker, Alfred Wood, Sidney Mavor and Shelley all gave evidence. + +After lasting all day the case was adjourned till the following Thursday. + +Mr. Travers Humphreys applied for bail for Mr. Wilde, on the ground that he knew +the warrant against him was being applied for on Friday afternoon, but he made +no attempt to leave London. Sir John Bridge refused bail. + +On Thursday, the 11th, the case was continued before Sir John Bridge, and in the +end both the accused were committed for trial. Again Mr. Humphreys applied for +bail, and again the magistrate refused to accept bail. + +Now to refuse bail in cases of serious crime may be defended, but in the case of +indecent conduct it is usually granted. To run away is regarded as a confession +of guilt, and what could one wish for more than the perpetual banishment of the +corrupt liver, consequently there is no reason to refuse bail. But in this +case, though bail was offered to any amount, it was refused peremptorily in +spite of the fact that every consideration should have been shown to an accused +person who had already had a good opportunity to leave the country and had +refused to budge. Moreover, Oscar Wilde had already been criticised and +condemned in a hundred papers. There was widespread prejudice against him, +no risk to the public in accepting bail, and considerable injury done to the +accused in refusing it. His affairs were certain to be thrown into confusion; +he was known not to be rich and yet he was deprived of the power to get money +together and to collect evidence just when the power which freedom confers was +most needed by him. + +The magistrate was as prejudiced as the public; he had no more idea of standing +for justice and fair play than Pilate; probably, indeed, he never gave himself +the trouble to think of fairness in the matter. A large salary is paid to +magistrates in London, L1,500 a year, but it is rare indeed that any of them +rises above the vulgarest prejudice. Sir John Bridge not only refused bail but +he was careful to give his reasons for refusing it: he had not the slightest +scruple about prejudicing the case even before he had heard a word of the +defence. After hearing the evidence for the prosecution he said: + +"The responsibility of accepting or refusing bail rests upon me. The +considerations that weigh with me are the gravity of the offences and +the strength of the evidence. I must absolutely refuse bail and send the +prisoners for trial." + +Now these reasons, which he proffered voluntarily, and especially the use of the +word "absolutely," showed not only prejudice on the part of Sir John Bridge, but +the desire to injure the unfortunate prisoner in the public mind and so continue +the evil work of the journalists. + +The effect of this prejudice and rancour on the part of the whole community had +various consequences. + +The mere news that Oscar Wilde had been arrested and taken to Holloway startled +London and gave the signal for a strange exodus. Every train to Dover was +crowded; every steamer to Calais thronged with members of the aristocratic and +leisured classes, who seemed to prefer Paris, or even Nice out of the season, +to a city like London, where the police might act with such unexpected vigour. +The truth was that the cultured aesthetes whom I have already described had +been thunderstruck by the facts which the Queensberry trial had laid bare. For +the first time they learned that such houses as Taylor's were under police +supervision, and that creatures like Wood and Parker were classified and +watched. They had imagined that in "the home of liberty" such practices passed +unnoticed. It came as a shock to their preconceived ideas that the police +in London knew a great many things which they were not supposed to concern +themselves with, and this unwelcome glare of light drove the vicious forth +in wild haste. + +Never was Paris so crowded with members of the English governing classes; here +was to be seen a famous ex-Minister; there the fine face of the president of a +Royal society; at one table in the Cafe; de la Paix, a millionaire recently +ennobled, and celebrated for his exquisite taste in art; opposite to him a +famous general. It was even said that a celebrated English actor took a return +ticket for three or four days to Paris, just to be in the fashion. The mummer +returned quickly; but the majority of the migrants stayed abroad for some time. +The wind of terror which had swept them across the Channel opposed their return, +and they scattered over the Continent from Naples to Monte Carlo and from +Palermo to Seville under all sorts of pretexts. + +The gravest result of the magistrate's refusal to accept bail was purely +personal. Oscar's income dried up at the source. His books were withdrawn from +sale; no one went to see his plays; every shop keeper to whom he owed a penny +took immediate action against him. Judgments were obtained and an execution put +into his house in Tite Street. Within a month, at the very moment when he most +needed money to fee counsel and procure evidence, he was beggared and sold up, +and because of his confinement in prison the sale was conducted under such +conditions that, whereas in ordinary times his effects would have covered the +claims against him three times over, all his belongings went for nothing, and +the man who was making L4,000 or L5,000 a year by his plays was adjudicated a +bankrupt for a little over L1,000. L600 of this sum were for Lord Queensberry's +costs which the Queensberry family--Lord Douglas of Hawick, Lord Alfred Douglas +and their mother--had promised in writing to pay, but when the time came, +absolutely refused to pay. Most unfortunately many of Oscar's MSS. were stolen +or lost in the disorder of the sheriff's legal proceedings. Wilde could have +cried, with Shylock, "You take my life when you do take away the means whereby +I live." But at the time nine Englishmen out of ten applauded what was +practically persecution. + +A worse thing remains to be told. The right of free speech which Englishmen +pride themselves on had utterly disappeared, as it always does disappear in +England when there is most need of it. It was impossible to say one word in +Wilde's defence or even in extenuation of his sin in any London print. At this +time I owned the greater part of the "Saturday Review" and edited it. Here at +any rate one might have thought I could have set forth in a Christian country a +sane and liberal view. I had no wish to minimise the offence. No one condemned +unnatural vice more than I, but Oscar Wilde was a distinguished man of letters; +he had written beautiful things, and his good works should have been allowed to +speak in his favour. I wrote an article setting forth this view. My printers +immediately informed me that they thought the article ill-advised, and when I +insisted they said they would prefer not to print it. Yet there was nothing in +it beyond a plea to suspend judgment and defer insult till after the trial. +Messrs. Smith and Sons, the great booksellers, who somehow got wind of the +matter (through my publisher, I believe), sent to say that they would not sell +any paper that attempted to defend Oscar Wilde; it would be better even, they +added, not to mention his name. The English tradesman-censors were determined +that this man should have Jedburg justice. I should have ruined the "Saturday +Review" by the mere attempt to treat the matter fairly. + +In this extremity I went to the great leader of public opinion in England. Mr. +Arthur Walter, the manager of "The Times", had always been kind to me; he was a +man of balanced mind, who had taken high honours at Oxford in his youth, and for +twenty years had rubbed shoulders with the leading men in every rank of life. I +went down to stay with him in Berkshire, and I urged upon him what I regarded as +the aristocratic view. In England it was manifest that under the circumstances +there was no chance of a fair trial, and it seemed to me the duty of "The Times" +to say plainly that this man should not be condemned beforehand, and that if he +were condemned his merits should be taken into consideration in his punishment, +as well as his demerits. + +While willing to listen to me, Mr. Walter did not share my views. A man who had +written a great poem or a great play did not rank in his esteem with a man who +had won a skirmish against a handful of unarmed savages, or one who had stolen a +piece of land from some barbarians and annexed it to the Empire. In his heart +he held the view of the English landed aristocracy, that the ordinary successful +general or admiral or statesman was infinitely more important than a Shakespeare +or a Browning. He could not be persuaded to believe that the names of +Gladstone, Disraeli, Wolseley, Roberts, and Wood, would diminish and fade from +day to day till in a hundred years they would scarcely be known, even to the +educated; whereas the fame of Browning, Swinburne, Meredith, or even Oscar +Wilde, would increase and grow brighter with time, till, in one hundred or five +hundred years, no one would dream of comparing pushful politicians like +Gladstone or Beaconsfield with men of genius like Swinburne or Wilde. He simply +would not see it and when he perceived that the weight of argument was against +him he declared that if it were true, it was so much the worse for humanity. In +his opinion anyone living a clean life was worth more than a writer of love +songs or the maker of clever comedies--Mr. John Smith worth more than +Shakespeare! + +He was as deaf as only Englishmen can be deaf to the plea for abstract justice. + +"You don't even say Wilde's innocent," he threw at me more than once. + +"I believe him to be innocent," I declared truthfully, "but it is better that a +hundred guilty men go free than that one man should not have a fair trial. And +how can this man have a fair trial now when the papers for weeks past have been +filled with violent diatribes against him and his works?" + +One point, peculiarly English, he used again and again. + +"So long as substantial justice is done," he said, "it is all we care about." + +"Substantial justice will never be done," I cried, "so long as that is your +ideal. Your arrow can never go quite so high as it is aimed." But I got no +further. + +If Oscar Wilde had been a general or a so-called empire builder, "The Times" +might have affronted public opinion and called attention to his virtues, and +argued that they should be taken in extenuation of his offences; but as he was +only a writer no one seemed to owe him anything or to care what became of him. + +Mr. Walter was fair-minded in comparison with most men of his class. There +was staying with him at this very time an Irish gentleman, who listened to my +pleading for Wilde with ill-concealed indignation. Excited by Arthur Walter's +obstinacy to find fresh arguments, I pointed out that Wilde's offence was +pathological and not criminal and would not be punished in a properly +constituted state. + +"You admit," I said, "that we punish crime to prevent it spreading; wipe this +sin off the statute book and you would not increase the sinners by one: then +why punish them?" + +"Oi'd whip such sinners to death, so I would," cried the Irishman; "hangin's +too good for them." + +"You only punished lepers," I went on, "in the middle ages, because you believed +that leprosy was catching: this malady is not even catching." + +"Faith, Oi'd punish it with extermination," cried the Irishman. + +Exasperated by the fact that his idiot prejudice was hurting my friend, I said +at length with a smile: + +"You are very bitter: I'm not; you see, I have no sexual jealousy to inflame +me." + +On this Mr. Walter had to interfere between us to keep the peace, but the +mischief was done: my advocacy remained without effect. + +It is very curious how deep-rooted and enduring is the prejudice against writers +in England. Not only is no attempt made to rate them at their true value, at +the value which posterity puts upon their work; but they are continually treated +as outcasts and denied the most ordinary justice. The various trials of Oscar +Wilde are to the thinker an object lesson in the force of this prejudice, but +some may explain the prejudice against Wilde on the score of the peculiar +abhorrence with which the offence ascribed to him is regarded in England. + +Let me take an example from the papers of today--I am writing in January, 1910. +I find in my "Daily Mail" that at Bow Street police court a London magistrate, +Sir Albert de Rutzen, ordered the destruction of 272 volumes of the English +translation of Balzac's "Les Contes Drolatiques" on the ground that the book +was obscene. "Les Contes Drolatiques" is an acknowledged masterpiece, and is +not nearly so free spoken as "Lear" or "Hamlet" or "Tom Jones" or "Anthony and +Cleopatra." What would be thought of a French magistrate or a German magistrate +who ordered a fair translation of "Hamlet" or of "Lear" to be burnt, because of +its obscenity? He would be regarded as demented. One can only understand such +a judgment as an isolated fact. But in England this monstrous stupidity is the +rule. Sir A. de Rutzen was not satisfied with ordering the books to be burnt +and fining the bookseller; he went on to justify his condemnation and praise +the police: + +"It is perfectly clear to my mind that a more foul and filthy black spot has not +been found in London for a long time, and the police have done uncommonly well +in bringing the matter to light. I consider that the books are likely to do a +great deal of harm." + +Fancy the state of mind of the man who can talk such poisonous nonsense; who, +with the knowledge of what Piccadilly is at night in his mind, can speak of the +translation of a masterpiece as one of the "most filthy black spots" to be found +in London. To say that such a man is insane is, I suppose, going too far; but +to say that he does not know the value or the meaning of the words he uses, to +say that he is driven by an extraordinary and brainless prejudice, is certainly +the modesty of truth. + +It is this sort of perversity on the part of Sir A. de Rutzen and of nine out +of ten Englishmen that makes Frenchmen, Germans and Italians speak of them as +ingrained hypocrites. But they are not nearly so hypocritical as they are +uneducated and unintelligent, rebellious to the humanising influence of art +and literature. The ordinary Englishman would much prefer to be called an +athlete than a poet. The Puritan Commonwealth Parliament ordered the pictures +of Charles I. to be sold, but such of them as were indecent to be burnt; +accordingly half a dozen Titians were solemnly burnt and the nucleus of a great +national gallery destroyed. One can see Sir A. de Rutzen solemnly assisting +at this holocaust and devoutly deciding that all the masterpieces which showed +temptingly a woman's beautiful breasts were "foul and filthy black spots" and +must be burnt as harmful. Or rather one can see that Sir A. de Rutzen has in +two and a half centuries managed to get a little beyond this primitive Puritan +standpoint: he might allow a pictorial masterpiece to-day to pass unburnt, but +a written masterpiece is still to him anathema. + +A part of this prejudice comes from the fact that the English have a special +dislike for every form of sexual indulgence. It is not consistent with their +ideal of manhood, and, like the poor foolish magistrate, they have not yet +grasped the truth, which one might have thought the example of the Japanese +would have made plain by now to the dullest, that a nation may be +extraordinarily brave, vigorous and self-sacrificing and at the same time +intensely sensuous, and sensitive to every refinement of passion. If the +great English middle class were as well educated as the German middle class, +such a judgment as this of Sir A. de Rutzen would be scouted as ridiculous +and absurd, or rather would be utterly unthinkable. + +In Anglo-Saxon countries both the artist and the sexual passion are under a ban. +The race is more easily moved martially than amorously and it regards its +overpowering combative instincts as virtuous just as it is apt to despise what +it likes to call "languishing love." The poet Middleton couldn't put his dream +city in England--a city of fair skies and fairer streets: + +And joy was there; in all the city's length +I saw no fingers trembling for the sword; +Nathless they doted on their bodies' strength, +That they might gentler be. Love was their lord. + +Both America and England today offer terrifying examples of the despotism of an +unenlightened and vulgar public opinion in all the highest concerns of man--in +art, in literature and in religion. There is no despotism on earth so soul- +destroying to the artist: it is baser and more degrading than anything known +in Russia. The consequences of this tyranny of an uneducated middle class and +a barbarian aristocracy are shown in detail in the trial of Oscar Wilde and in +the savagery with which he was treated by the English officers of justice. + + + + +CHAPTER XV--THE QUEEN VS. WILDE: THE FIRST TRIAL + + + +As soon as I heard that Oscar Wilde was arrested and bail refused, I tried to +get permission to visit him in Holloway. I was told I should have to see him +in a kind of barred cage; and talk to him from the distance of at least a yard. +It seemed to me too painful for both of us, so I went to the higher authorities +and got permission to see him in a private room. The Governor met me at the +entrance of the prison: to my surprise he was more than courteous; charmingly +kind and sympathetic. + +"We all hope," he said, "that he will soon be free; this is no place for him. +Everyone likes him, everyone. It is a great pity." + +He evidently felt much more than he said, and my heart went out to him. He left +me in a bare room furnished with a small square deal table and two kitchen +chairs. In a moment or two Oscar came in accompanied by a warder. In silence +we clasped hands. He looked miserably anxious and pulled down and I felt that +I had nothing to do but cheer him up. + +"I am glad to see you," I cried. "I hope the warders are kind to you?" + +"Yes, Frank," he replied in a hopeless way, "but everyone else is against me: +it is hard." + +"Don't harbour that thought," I answered; "many whom you don't know, and whom +you will never know, are on your side. Stand for them and for the myriads who +are coming afterwards and make a fight of it." + +"I'm afraid I'm not a fighter, Frank, as you once said," he replied sadly, + "and they won't give me bail. How can I get evidence or think in this place +of torture? Fancy refusing me bail," he went on, "though I stayed in London +when I might have gone abroad." + +"You should have gone," I cried in French, hot with indignation; "why didn't you +go, the moment you came out of the court?" + +"I couldn't think at first," he answered in the same tongue; "I couldn't think +at all: I was numbed." + +"Your friends should have thought of it," I insisted, not knowing then that +they had done their best. + +At this moment the warder, who had turned away towards the door, came back. + +"You are not allowed, sir, to talk in a foreign language," he said quietly. +"You will understand we have to obey the rules. Besides, the prisoner must not +speak of this prison as a place of torture. I ought to report that; I'm sorry." + +The misery of it all brought tears to my eyes: his gaolers even felt sorry for +him. I thanked the warder and turned again to Oscar. + +"Don't let yourself fear at all," I exclaimed. "You will have your chance again +and must take it; only don't lose heart and don't be witty next time in court. +The jury hate it. They regard it as intellectual superiority and impudence. +Treat all things seriously and with grave dignity. Defend yourself as David +would have defended his love for Jonathan. Make them all listen to you. I +would undertake to get free with half your talent even if I were guilty; a +resolution not to be beaten is always half the battle. . . . . Make your trial +memorable from your entrance into the court to the decision of the jury. Use +every opportunity and give your real character a chance to fight for you." + +I spoke with tears in my eyes and rage in my heart. + +"I will do my best, Frank," he said despondingly, "I will do my best. If I were +out of this place, I might think of something, but it is dreadful to be here. +One has to go to bed by daylight and the nights are interminable." + +"Haven't you a watch?" I cried. + +They don't allow you to have a watch in prison," he replied. + +"But why not?" I asked in amazement. I did not know that every rule in an +English prison is cunningly devised to annoy and degrade the unfortunate +prisoner. + +Oscar lifted his hands hopelessly: + +"One may not smoke; not even a cigarette; and so I cannot sleep. All the past +comes back; the golden hours; the June days in London with the sunshine dappling +the grass and the silken rustling of the wind in the trees. Do you remember +Wordsworth speaks 'of the wind in the trees'? How I wish I could hear it now, +breathe it once again. I might get strength then to fight." + +"Is the food good?" I asked. + +"It's all right; I get it from outside. The food doesn't matter. It is the +smoking I miss, the freedom, the companionship. My mind will not act when I'm +alone. I can only think of what has been and torment myself. Already I've been +punished enough for the sins of a lifetime." + +"Is there nothing I can do for you, nothing you want?" I asked. + +"No, Frank," he answered, "it was kind of you to come to see me, I wish I could +tell you how kind." + +"Don't think of it," I said; "if I'm any good send for me at any moment: a word +will bring me. They allow you books, don't they?" + +"Yes, Frank." + +"I wish you would get the 'Apologia of Plato'," I said, "and take a big draught +of that deathless smiling courage of Socrates." + +"Ah, Frank, how much more humane were the Greeks. They let his friends see him +and talk to him by the hour, though he was condemned to death. There were no +warders there to listen, no degrading conditions." + +"Quite true," I cried, suddenly realising how much better Oscar Wilde would have +been treated in Athens two thousand years ago. "Our progress is mainly change; +we don't shed our cruelty; even Christ has not been able to humanise us." + +He nodded his head. At first he seemed greatly distressed; but I managed to +encourage him a little, for at the close of the talk he questioned me: + +"Do you really think I may win, Frank?" + +"Of course you'll win," I replied. "You must win: you must not think of being +beaten. Take it that they will not want to convict you. Say it to yourself +in the court; don't let yourself fear for a moment. Your enemies are merely +stupid, unhappy creatures crawling about for a few miserable years between earth +and sun; fated to die and leave no trace, no memory. Remember you are fighting +for all of us, for every artist and thinker who is to be born into the English +world. . . . . It is better to win like Galileo than to be burnt like Giordano +Bruno. Don't let them make another martyr. Use all your brains and eloquence +and charm. Don't be afraid. They will not condemn you if they know you." + +"I have been trying to think," he said, "trying to make up my mind to bear +one whole year of this life. It's dreadful, Frank, I had no idea that prison +was so dreadful." + +The warder again drew down his brows. I hastened to change the subject. + +"That's why you must resolve not to have any more of it," I said; "I wish I had +seen you when you came out of court, but I really thought you didn't want me; +you turned away from me." + +"Oh, Frank, how could I?" he cried. "I should have been so grateful to you." + +"I'm very shortsighted," I rejoined, "and I thought you did. It is our foolish +little vanities which prevent us acting as we should. But let me know if I can +do anything for you. If you want me, I'll come at any moment." + +I said this because the warder had already given me a sign; he now said: + +"Time is up." + +Once again we clasped hands. + +"You must win," I said; "don't think of defeat. Even your enemies are human. +Convert them. You can do it, believe me," and I went with dread in my heart, +and pity and indignation. + +Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: +Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. + +The Governor met me almost at the door. + +"It is terrible," I exclaimed. + +"This is no place for him," he answered. "He has nothing to do with us here. +Everyone likes him and pities him: the warders, everyone. Anything I can do +to make his stay tolerable shall be done." + +We shook hands. I think there were tears in both our eyes as we parted. +This humane Governor had taught me that Oscar's gentleness and kindness--his +sweetness of nature--would win all hearts if it had time to make itself known. +Yet there he was in prison. His face and figure came before me again and again: +the unshaven face; the frightened, sad air; the hopeless, toneless voice. The +cleanliness even of the bare hard room was ugly; the English are foolish enough +to degrade those they punish. Revolt was blazing in me. + +As I went away I looked up at the mediaeval castellated gateway of the place, +and thought how perfectly the architecture suited the spirit of the institution. +The whole thing belongs to the middle ages, and not to our modern life. Fancy +having both prison and hospital side by side; indeed a hospital even in the +prison; torture and lovingkindness; punishment and pity under the same roof. +What a blank contradiction and stupidity. Will civilisation never reach humane +ideals? Will men always punish most severely the sins they do not understand and +which hold for them no temptation? Did Jesus suffer in vain? + +. . . . . . . + +Oscar Wilde was committed on the 19th of April; a "true bill" was found against +him by the grand jury on the 24th; and, as the case was put down for trial at +the Old Bailey almost immediately, a postponement was asked for till the May +sessions, on the ground first that the defence had not had time to prepare their +case and further, that in the state of popular feeling at the moment, Mr. Wilde +would not get a fair and impartial trial. Mr. Justice Charles, who was to try +the case, heard the application and refused it peremptorily: "Any suggestion +that the defendant would not have a fair trial was groundless," he declared; yet +he knew better. In his summing up of the case on May 1st he stated that "for +weeks it had been impossible to open a newspaper without reading some reference +to the case," and when he asked the jury not to allow "preconceived opinions to +weigh with them" he was admitting the truth that every newspaper reference was +charged with dislike and contempt of Oscar Wilde. A fair trial indeed! + +The trial took place at the Old Bailey, three days later, April 27th, 1895, +before Mr. Justice Charles. Mr. C. F. Gill and A. Gill with Mr. Horace Avory +appeared for the Public Prosecutor. Mr. Wilde was again defended by Sir Edward +Clarke, Mr. Charles Mathews and Mr. Travers Humphreys, while Mr. J. P. Grain +and Mr. Paul Taylor were counsel for the other prisoner. The trial began on a +Saturday and the whole of the day was taken up with a legal argument. I am not +going to give the details of the case. I shall only note the chief features of +it and the unfairness which characterised it. + +Sir Edward Clarke pointed out that there was one set of charges under the +Criminal Law Amendment Act and another set of charges of conspiracy. He urged +that the charges of conspiracy should be dropped. Under the counts alleging +conspiracy, the defendants could not be called on as witnesses, which put +the defence at a disadvantage. In the end the Judge decided that there were +inconveniences; but he would not accede to Sir Edward Clarke's request. Later +in the trial, however, Mr. Gill himself withdrew the charges of conspiracy, +and the Judge admitted explicitly in his summing up that, if he had known the +evidence which was to be offered, he would not have allowed these charges of +conspiracy to be made. By this confession he apparently cleared his conscience +just as Pilate washed his hands. But the wrong had already been done. Not only +did this charge of conspiracy embarrass the defence, but if it had never been +made, as it should never have been made, then Sir Edward Clarke would have +insisted and could have insisted properly that the two men should be tried +separately, and Wilde would not have been discredited by being coupled with +Taylor, whose character was notorious and who had already been in the hands of +the police on a similar charge. + +This was not the only instance of unfairness in the conduct of the prosecution. +The Treasury put a youth called Atkins in the box, thus declaring him to be at +least a credible witness; but Atkins was proved by Sir Edward Clarke to have +perjured himself in the court in the most barefaced way. In fact the Treasury +witnesses against Wilde were all blackmailers and people of the lowest +character, with two exceptions. The exceptions were a boy named Mavor and a +youth named Shelley. With regard to Mavor the judge admitted that no evidence +had been offered that he could place before the jury; but in his summing up he +was greatly affected by the evidence of Shelley. Shelley was a young man who +seemed to be afflicted with a species of religious mania. Mr. Justice Charles +gave great weight to his testimony. He invited the jury to say that "although +there was, in his correspondence which had been read, evidence of excitability, +to talk of him as a young man who did not know what he was saying was to +exaggerate the effect of his letters." He went on to ask with much solemnity: +"Why should this young man have invented a tale, which must have been unpleasant +to him to present from the witness box?" + +In the later trial before Mr. Justice Wills the Judge had to rule out the +evidence of Shelley "in toto", because it was wholly without corroboration. +If the case before Mr. Justice Charles had not been confused with the charges +of conspiracy, there is no doubt that he too would have ruled out the evidence +of Shelley, and then his summing up must have been entirely in favour of Wilde. + +The singular malevolence of the prosecution also can be estimated by their use +of the so-called "literary argument." Wilde had written in a magazine called +"The Chameleon. The Chameleon" contained an immoral story, with which Wilde had +nothing to do, and which he had repudiated as offensive. Yet the prosecution +tried to make him responsible in some way for the immorality of a writing which +he knew nothing about. + +Wilde had said two poems of Lord Alfred Douglas were "beautiful." The +prosecution declared that these poems were in essence a defence of the vilest +immorality, but is it not possible for the most passionate poem, even the most +vicious, to be "beautiful"? Nothing was ever written more passionate than one +of the poems of Sappho. Yet a fragment has been selected out and preserved by +the admiration of a hundred generations of men. The prosecution was in the +position all the time of one who declared that a man who praised a nude picture +must necessarily be immoral. Such a contention would be inconceivable in any +other civilised country. Even the Judge was on much the same intellectual +level. It would not be fair, he admitted, to condemn a poet or dramatic writer +by his works and he went on: + +"It is unfortunately true that while some of our greatest writers have passed +long years in writing nothing but the most wholesome literature--literature of +the highest genius, and which anybody can read, such as the literature of Sir +Walter Scott and Charles Dickens; it is also true that there were other great +writers, more especially in the eighteenth century, perfectly noble-minded men +themselves, who somehow or other have permitted themselves to pen volumes which +it is painful for persons of ordinary modesty and decency to read." + +It would have been more honest and more liberal to have brushed away the +nonsensical indictment in a sentence. Would the Treasury have put Shakespeare +on trial for "Hamlet" or "Lear," or would they have condemned the writer of +"The Song of Solomon" for immorality, or sent St. Paul to prison for his +"Epistle to the Corinthians"? + +Middle-class prejudice and hypocritic canting twaddle from Judge and advocate +dragged their weary length along for days and days. On Wednesday Sir Edward +Clarke made his speech for the defence. He pointed out the unfairness of the +charges of conspiracy which had tardily been withdrawn. He went on to say that +the most remarkable characteristic of the case was the fact that it had been the +occasion for conduct on the part of certain sections of the press which was +disgraceful, and which imperilled the administration of justice, and was in the +highest degree injurious to the client for whom he was pleading. Nothing, he +concluded, could be more unfair than the way Mr. Wilde had been criticised in +the press for weeks and weeks. But no judge interfered on his behalf. + +Sir Edward Clarke evidently thought that to prove unfairness would not even +influence the minds of the London jury. He was content to repudiate the attempt +to judge Mr. Wilde by his books or by an article which he had condemned, or by +poems which he had not written. He laid stress on the fact that Mr. Wilde had +himself brought the charge against Lord Queensberry which had provoked the whole +investigation: "on March 30th, Mr. Wilde," he said, "knew the catalogue of +accusations"; and he asked: did the jury believe that, if he had been guilty, +he would have stayed in England and brought about the first trial? Insane would +hardly be the word for such conduct, if Mr. Wilde really had been guilty. +Moreover, before even hearing the specific accusations, Mr. Wilde had gone +into the witness box to deny them. + +Clarke's speech was a good one, but nothing out of the common: no new arguments +were used in it; not one striking illustration. Needless to say the higher +advocacy of sympathy was conspicuous by its absence. + +Again, the interesting part of the trial was the cross-examination of Oscar +Wilde. + +Mr. Gill examined him at length on the two poems which Lord Alfred Douglas had +contributed to "The Chameleon", which Mr. Wilde had called "beautiful." The +first was in "Praise of Shame," the second was one called "Two Loves." Sir +Edward Clarke, interposing, said: + +"That's not Mr. Wilde's, Mr. Gill." + +Mr. Gill: "I am not aware that I said it was." + +Sir Edward Clarke: "I thought you would be glad to say it was not." + +Mr. Gill insisted that Mr. Wilde should explain the poem in "Praise of Shame." + +Mr. Wilde said that the first poem seemed obscure, but, when pressed as to the +"love" described in the second poem, he let himself go for the first time and +perhaps the only time during the trial; he said: + +"The 'love' that dare not speak its name in this century is such a great +affection of an older for a younger man as there was between David and Jonathan, +such as Plato made the very base of his philosophy and such as you find in the +sonnets of Michaelangelo and Shakespeare--a deep spiritual affection that is as +pure as it is perfect, and dictates great works of art like those of Shakespeare +and Michaelangelo and those two letters of mine, such as they are, and which is +in this century misunderstood--so misunderstood that on account of it, I am +placed where I am now. It is beautiful; it is fine; it is the noblest form of +affection. It is intellectual, and it repeatedly exists between an elder and +younger man, when the elder man has intellect, and the younger man has all the +joy, hope and glamour of life. That it should be so the world does not +understand. It mocks at it and sometimes puts one into the pillory for it." + +At this stage there was loud applause in the gallery of the court, and the +learned Judge at once said: "I shall have the Court cleared if there is the +slightest manifestation of feeling. There must be complete silence preserved." + +Mr. Justice Charles repressed the cheering in favour of Mr. Oscar Wilde with +great severity, though Mr. Justice Collins did not attempt to restrain the +cheering which filled his court and accompanied the dispersing crowd into the +street on the acquittal of Lord Queensberry. + +In spite, however, of the unfair criticisms of the press; in spite of the unfair +conduct of the prosecution, and in spite of the manifest prejudice and +Philistine ignorance of the Judge, the jury disagreed. + +Then followed the most dramatic incident of the whole trial. Once more Sir +Edward Clarke applied for bail on behalf of Oscar Wilde. "After what has +happened," he said, "I do not think the Crown will make any objection to this +application." The Crown left the matter to the Judge, no doubt in all security; +for the Judge immediately refused the application. Sir Edward Clarke then +went on to say that, in the case of a re-trial, it ought not to take place +immediately. He continued: + +"The burden of those engaged in the case is very heavy, and I think it only +right that the Treasury should have an opportunity between this and another +session of considering the mode in which the case should be presented, if indeed +it is presented at all." + +Mr. Gill immediately rose to the challenge. + +"The case will certainly be tried again," he declared, "whether it is to be +tried again at once or in the next sessions will be a matter of convenience. +Probably the most desirable course will be for the case to go to the next +sessions. That is the usual course." + +Mr. Justice Charles: "If that is the usual course, let it be so." + +The next session of the Central Criminal Court opened on the 20th of the same +month. + +Not three weeks' respite, still it might be enough: it was inconceivable that +a Judge in Chambers would refuse to accept bail: fortunately the law allows him +no option. + +. . . . . + +The application for bail was made in due course to a Judge in Chambers, and in +spite of the bad example of the magistrate, and of Mr. Justice Charles, it was +granted and Wilde was set free in his own recognizance of L2,500 with two other +sureties for L1,250 each. It spoke volumes for the charm and fascination of the +man that people were found to undertake this onerous responsibility. Their +names deserve to be recorded; one was Lord Douglas of Hawick, the other a +clergyman, the Rev. Stewart Headlam. I offered to be one bail: but I was not a +householder at the time and my name was, therefore, not acceptable. I suppose +the Treasury objected, which shows, I am inclined to think, some glimmering of +sense on its part. + +As soon as the bail was accepted I began to think of preparations for Oscar's +escape. It was high time something was done to save him from the wolves. The +day after his release a London morning journal was not ashamed to publish what +it declared was a correct analysis of the voting of the jury on the various +counts. According to this authority, ten jurors were generally for conviction +and two against, in the case of Wilde; the statement was widely accepted because +it added that the voting was more favourable to Taylor than to Wilde, which was +so unexpected and so senseless that it carried with it a certain plausibility: +"Credo quia incredible". + +I had seen enough of English justice and English judges and English journals to +convince me that Oscar Wilde had no more chance of a fair trial than if he had +been an Irish "Invincible." Everyone had made up his mind and would not even +listen to reason: he was practically certain to be convicted, and if convicted +perfectly certain to be punished with savage ferocity. The judge would probably +think he was showing impartiality by punishing him for his qualities of charm +and high intelligence. For the first time in my life I understood the full +significance of Montaigne's confession that if he were accused of stealing the +towers of Notre Dame, he would fly the kingdom rather than risk a trial, and +Montaigne was a lawyer. I set to work at once to complete my preparations. + +I did not think I ran any risk in helping Oscar to get away. The newspapers had +seized the opportunity of the trials before the magistrate and before Mr. +Justice Charles and had overwhelmed the public with such a sea of nauseous filth +and impurity as could only be exposed to the public nostrils in pudibond +England. Everyone, I thought, must be sick of the testimony and eager to have +done with the whole thing. In this I may have been mistaken. The hatred of +Wilde seemed universal and extraordinarily malignant. + +I wanted a steam yacht. Curiously enough on the very day when I was thinking of +running down to Cowes to hire one, a gentleman at lunch mentioned that he had +one in the Thames. I asked him could I charter it? + +"Certainly," he replied, "and I will let you have it for the bare cost for the +next month or two." + +"One month will do for me," I said. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +I don't know why, but a thought came into my head: I would tell him the truth, +and see what he would say. I took him aside and told him the bare facts. At +once he declared that the yacht was at my service for such work as that without +money: he would be too glad to lend it to me: it was horrible that such a man as +Wilde should be treated as a common criminal. + +He felt as Henry VIII felt in Shakespeare's play of that name: + +". . . . there's some of ye, I see, +More out of malice than integrity, +Would try him to the utmost, . . . ." + +It was not the generosity in my friend's offer that astonished me, but the +consideration for Wilde; I thought the lenity so singular in England that I feel +compelled to explain it. Though an Englishman born and bred my friend was by +race a Jew--a man of the widest culture, who had no sympathy whatever with the +vice attributed to Oscar. Feeling consoled because there was at least one +generous, kind heart in the world, I went next day to Willie Wilde's house in +Oakley Street to see Oscar. I had written to him on the previous evening that +I was coming to take Oscar out to lunch. + +Willie Wilde met me at the door; he was much excited apparently by the notoriety +attaching to Oscar; he was volubly eager to tell me that, though we had not been +friends, yet my support of Oscar was most friendly and he would therefore bury +the hatchet. He had never interested me, and I was unconscious of any hatchet +and careless whether he buried it or blessed it. I repeated drily that I had +come to take Oscar to lunch. + +"I know you have," he said, "and it's most kind of you; but he can't go." + +"Why not?" I asked as I went in. + +Oscar was gloomy, depressed, and evidently suffering. Willie's theatrical +insincerity had annoyed me a little, and I was eager to get away. Suddenly +I saw Sherard, who has since done his best for Oscar's memory. In his book +there is a record of this visit of mine. He was standing silently by the wall. + +"I've come to take you to lunch," I said to Oscar. + +"But he cannot go out," cried Willie. + +"Of course he can," I insisted, "I've come to take him." + +"But where to?" asked Willie. + +"Yes, Frank, where to?" repeated Oscar meekly. + +"Anywhere you like," I said, "the Savoy if you like, the Cafe Royal for choice." + +"Oh, Frank, I dare not," cried Oscar. + +"No, no," cried Willie, "there would be a scandal; someone'll insult him and +it would do harm; set people's backs up." + +"Oh, Frank, I dare not," echoed Oscar. + +"No one will insult him. There will be no scandal," I replied, "and it will +do good." + +"But what will people say?" cried Willie. + +"No one ever knows what people will say," I retorted, "and people always speak +best of those who don't care a damn what they do say." + +"Oh, Frank, I could not go to a place like the Savoy where I am well known," +objected Oscar. + +"All right," I agreed, "you shall go where you like. All London is before us. +I must have a talk with you, and it will do you good to get out into the air, +and sun yourself and feel the wind in your face. Come, there's a hansom at +the door." + +It was not long before I had conquered his objections and Willie's absurdities +and taken him with me. Scarcely had we left the house when his spirits began +to lift, and he rippled into laughter. + +"Really, Frank, it is strange, but I do not feel frightened and depressed any +more, and the people don't boo and hiss at me. Is it not dreadful the way they +insult the fallen?" + +"We are not going to talk about it," I said; "we are going to talk of victories +and not of defeats." + +"Ah, Frank, there will be no more victories for me." + +"Nonsense," I cried; "now where are we going?" + +"Some quiet place where I shall not be known." + +"You really would not like the Cafe Royal?" I asked. "Nothing will happen to +you, and I think you would probably find that one or two people would wish +you luck. You have had a rare bad time, and there must be some people who +understand what you have gone through and know that it is sufficient punishment +for any sin." + +"No, Frank," he persisted, "I cannot, I really cannot." + +At length we decided on a restaurant in Great Portland Street. We drove there +and had a private room. + +I had two purposes in me, springing from the one root, the intense desire to +help him. I felt sure that if the case came up again for trial he would only be +convicted through what I may call good, honest testimony. The jury with their +English prejudice; or rather I should say with their healthy English instincts +would not take the evidence of vile blackmailers against him; he could only be +convicted through untainted evidence such as the evidence of the chambermaids +at the Savoy Hotel, and their evidence was over two years old and was weak, +inasmuch as the facts, if facts, were not acted upon by the management. Still +their testimony was very clear and very positive, and, taken together with that +of the blackmailers, sufficient to ensure conviction. After our lunch I laid +this view before Oscar. He agreed with me that it was probably the +chambermaids' testimony which had weighed most heavily against him. Their +statement and Shelley's had brought about the injurious tone in the Judge's +summing up. The Judge himself had admitted as much. + +"The chambermaids' evidence is wrong," Oscar declared. "They are mistaken, +Frank. It was not me they spoke about at the Savoy Hotel. It was ----. I was +never bold enough. I went to see ---- in the morning in his room." + +"Thank God," I said, "but why didn't Sir Edward Clarke bring that out?" + +"He wanted to; but I would not let him. I told him he must not. I must be true +to my friend. I could not let him." + +"But he must," I said, "at any rate if he does not I will. I have three weeks +and in that three weeks I am going to find the chambermaid. I am going to get a +plan of your room and your friend's room, and I'm going to make her understand +that she was mistaken. She probably remembered you because of your size: she +mistook you for the guilty person; everybody has always taken you for the +ringleader and not the follower." + +"But what good is it, Frank, what good is it?" he cried. "Even if you convinced +the chambermaid and she retracted; there would still be Shelley, and the Judge +laid stress on Shelley's evidence as untainted." + +"Shelley is an accomplice," I cried, "his testimony needs corroboration. +You don't understand these legal quibbles; but there was not a particle of +corroboration. Sir Edward Clarke should have had his testimony ruled out. +'Twas that conspiracy charge," I cried, "which complicated the matter. +Shelley's evidence, too, will be ruled out at the next trial, you'll see." + +"Oh, Frank," he said, "you talk with passion and conviction, as if I were +innocent." + +"But you are innocent," I cried in amaze, "aren't you?" + +"No, Frank," he said, "I thought you knew that all along." + +I stared at him stupidly. "No," I said dully, "I did not know. I did not +believe the accusation. I did not believe it for a moment." + +I suppose the difference in my tone and manner struck him, for he said, timidly +putting out his hand: + +"This will make a great difference to you, Frank?" + +"No," I said, pulling myself together and taking his hand; and after a pause I +went on: "No: curiously enough it has made no difference to me at all. I do not +know why; I suppose I have got more sympathy than morality in me. It has +surprised me, dumbfounded me. The thing has always seemed fantastic and +incredible to me and now you make it exist for me; but it has no effect on my +friendship; none upon my resolve to help you. But I see that the battle is +going to be infinitely harder than I imagined. In fact, now I don't think we +have a chance of winning a verdict. I came here hoping against fear that it +could be won, though I always felt that it would be better in the present state +of English feeling to go abroad and avoid the risk of a trial. Now there is +no question: you would be insane, as Clarke said, to stay in England. But +why on earth did Alfred Douglas, knowing the truth, ever wish you to attack +Queensberry?" + +"He's very bold and obstinate, Frank," said Oscar weakly. + +"Well, now I must play Crito," I resumed, smiling, "and take you away before +the ship comes from Delos." + +"Oh, Frank, that would be wonderful; but it's impossible, quite impossible. I +should be arrested before I left London, and shamed again in public: they would +boo at me and shout insults. . . . . Oh, it is impossible; I could not risk it." + +"Nonsense," I replied, "I believe the authorities would be only too glad if you +went. I think Clarke's challenge to Gill was curiously ill-advised. He should +have let sleeping dogs lie. Combative Gill was certain to take up the gauntlet. +If Clarke had lain low there might have been no second trial. But that can't be +helped now. Don't believe that it's even difficult to get away; it's easy. I +don't propose to go by Folkestone or Dover." + +"But, Frank, what about the people who have stood bail for me? I couldn't leave +them to suffer; they would lose their thousands." + +"I shan't let them lose," I replied, "I am quite willing to take half on my own +shoulders at once and you can pay the other thousand or so within a very short +time by writing a couple of plays. American papers would be only too glad to +pay you for an interview. The story of your escape would be worth a thousand +pounds; they would give you almost any price for it. + +"Leave everything to me, but in the meantime I want you to get out in the air +as much as possible. You are not looking well; you are not yourself." + +"That house is depressing, Frank. Willie makes such a merit of giving me +shelter; he means well, I suppose; but it is all dreadful." + +My notes of this talk finish in this way, but the conversation left on me a deep +impression of Oscar's extraordinary weakness or rather extraordinary softness of +nature backed up and redeemed by a certain magnanimity: he would not leave the +friends in the lurch who had gone bail for him; he would not give his friend +away even to save himself; but neither would he exert himself greatly to win +free. He was like a woman, I said to myself in wonder, and my pity for him grew +keener. He seemed mentally stunned by the sudden fall, by the discovery of how +violently men can hate. He had never seen the wolf in man before; the vile +brute instinct that preys upon the fallen. He had not believed that such +exultant savagery existed; it had never come within his ken; now it appalled +him. And so he stood there waiting for what might happen without courage to do +anything but suffer. My heart ached with pity for him, and yet I felt a little +impatient with him as well. Why give up like that? The eternal quarrel of the +combative nature with those who can't or won't fight. + +Before getting into the carriage to drive back to his brother's, I ascertained +that he did not need any money. He told me that he had sufficient even for the +expenses of a second trial: this surprised me greatly, for he was very careless +about money; but I found out from him later that a very noble and cultured +woman, a friend of both of us, Miss S----, a Jewess by race tho' not by +religion, had written to him asking if she could help him financially, as she +had been distressed by hearing of his bankruptcy, and feared that he might be in +need. If that were the case she begged him to let her be his banker, in order +that he might be properly defended. He wrote in reply, saying that he was +indeed in uttermost distress, that he wanted money, too, to help his mother as +he had always helped her, and that he supposed the expenses of the second trial +would be from L500 to L1,000. Thereupon Miss S---- sent him a cheque for +L1,000, assuring him that it cost her little even in self-sacrifice, and +declaring that it was only inadequate recognition of the pleasure she had had +through his delightful talks. Such actions are beyond praise; it is the perfume +of such sweet and noble human sympathy that makes this wild beasts' cage of a +world habitable for men. + +Before parting we had agreed to meet a few nights afterwards at Mrs. Leverson's, +where he had been invited to dinner, and where I also had been invited. By that +time, I thought to myself, all my preparations would be perfected. + +Looking back now I see clearly that my affection for Oscar Wilde dates from his +confession to me that afternoon. I had been a friend of his for years; but what +had bound us together had been purely intellectual, a community of literary +tastes and ambitions. Now his trust in me and frankness had thrown down the +barrier between us; and made me conscious of the extraordinary femininity and +gentle weakness of his nature, and, instead of condemning him as I have always +condemned that form of sexual indulgence, I felt only pity for him and a desire +to protect and help him. From that day on our friendship became intimate: I +began to divine him; I knew now that his words would always be more generous +and noble than his actions; knew too that I must take his charm of manner and +vivacity of intercourse for real virtues, and indeed they were as real as the +beauty of flowers; and I was aware as by some sixth sense that, where his vanity +was concerned, I might expect any injustice from him. I was sure beforehand, +however, that I should always forgive him, or rather that I should always accept +whatever he did and love him for the charm and sweetness and intellect in him +and hold myself more than recompensed for anything I might be able to do, by his +delightful companionship. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI--ESCAPE REJECTED: THE SECOND TRIAL AND SENTENCE + + + +In spite of the wit of the hostess and her exquisite cordiality, our dinner at +Mrs. Leverson's was hardly a success. Oscar was not himself; contrary to his +custom he sat silent and downcast. From time to time he sighed heavily, and his +leaden dejection gradually infected all of us. I was not sorry, for I wanted +to get him away early; by ten o'clock we had left the house and were in the +Cromwell Road. He preferred to walk: without his noticing it I turned up +Queen's Gate towards the park. After walking for ten minutes I said to him: + +"I want to speak to you seriously. Do you happen to know where Erith is?" + +"No, Frank." + +"It is a little landing place on the Thames," I went on, "not many miles away: +it can be reached by a fast pair of horses and a brougham in a very short time. +There at Erith is a steam yacht ready to start at a moment's notice; she has +steam up now, one hundred pounds pressure to the square inch in her boilers; +her captain's waiting, her crew ready--a greyhound in leash; she can do fifteen +knots an hour without being pressed. In one hour she would be free of the +Thames and on the high seas--(delightful phrase, eh?)--high seas indeed where +there is freedom uncontrolled. + +"If one started now one could breakfast in France, at Boulogne, let us say, or +Dieppe; one could lunch at St. Malo or St. Enogat or any place you like on the +coast of Normandy, and one could dine comfortably at the Sables d'Olonne, where +there is not an Englishman to be found, and where sunshine reigns even in May +from morning till night. + +"What do you say, Oscar, will you come and try a homely French bourgeois dinner +tomorrow evening at an inn I know almost at the water's edge? We could sit out +on the little terrace and take our coffee in peace under the broad vine leaves +while watching the silver pathway of the moon widen on the waters. We could +smile at the miseries of London and its wolfish courts shivering in cold grey +mist hundreds of miles away. Does not the prospect tempt you?" + +I spoke at leisure, tasting each delight, looking for his gladness. + +"Oh, Frank," he cried, "how wonderful; but how impossible!" + +"Impossible! don't be absurd," I retorted. "Do you see those lights yonder?" +and I showed him some lights at the Park gate on the top of the hill in front +of us. + +"Yes, Frank." + +"That's a brougham," I said, "with a pair of fast horses. It will take us for +a midnight visit to the steam yacht in double-quick time. There's a little +library on board of French books and English; I've ordered supper in the cabin-- +lobster a l'Americaine and a bottle of Pommery. You've never seen the mouth of +the Thames at night, have you? It's a scene from wonderland; houses like blobs +of indigo fencing you in; ships drifting past like black ghosts in the misty +air, and the purple sky above never so dark as the river, the river with its +shifting lights of ruby and emerald and topaz, like an oily, opaque serpent +gliding with a weird life of its own. . . . . Come; you must visit the yacht." + +I turned to him, but he was no longer by my side. I gasped; what had happened? +The mist must have hidden him; I ran back ten yards, and there he was leaning +against the railing, hung up with his head on his arm shaking. + +"What's the matter, Oscar?" I cried. "What on earth's the matter?" + +"Oh, Frank, I can't go," he cried, "I can't. It would be too wonderful; but +it's impossible. I should be seized by the police. You don't know the police." + +"Nonsense," I cried, "the police can't stop you and not a man of them will see +you from start to finish. Besides, I have loose money for any I do meet, and +none of them can resist a 'tip.' You will simply get out of the brougham and +walk fifty yards and you will be on the yacht and free. In fact, if you like +you shall not come out of the brougham until the sailors surround you as a guard +of honour. On board the yacht no one will touch you. No warrant runs there. +Come on, man!" + +"Oh, Frank," he groaned, "it's impossible!" + +"What's impossible?" I insisted. "Let's consider everything anew at breakfast +to-morrow morning in France. If you want to come back, there's nothing to +prevent you. The yacht will take you back in twenty-four hours. You will not +have broken your bail; you'll have done nothing wrong. You can go to France, +Germany or Siberia so long as you come back by the twentieth of May. Take it +that I offer you a holiday in France for ten days. Surely it is better to spend +a week with me than in that dismal house in Oakley Street, where the very door +gives one the creeps." + +"Oh, Frank, I'd love to," he groaned. "I see everything you say, but I can't. +I dare not. I'm caught, Frank, in a trap, I can only wait for the end." + +I began to get impatient; he was weaker than I had imagined, weaker a hundred +times. + +"Come for a trip, then, man," I cried, and I brought him within twenty yards of +the carriage; but there he stopped as if he had made up his mind. + +"No, no, I can't come. I could not go about in France feeling that the +policeman's hand might fall on my shoulder at any moment. I could not live +a life of fear and doubt: it would kill me in a month." His tone was decided. + +"Why let your imagination run away with you?" I pleaded. "Do be reasonable for +once. Fear and doubt would soon be over. If the police don't get you in France +within a week after the date fixed for the trial, you need have no further fear, +for they won't get you at all: they don't want you. You're making mountains out +of molehills with nervous fancies." + +"I should be arrested." + +"Nonsense," I replied, "who would arrest you? No one has the right. You are +out on bail: your bail answers for you till the 20th. Money talks, man; +Englishmen always listen to money. It'll do you good with the public and the +jury to come back from France to stand your trial. Do come," and I took him +by the arm; but he would not move. To my astonishment he faced me and said: + +"And my sureties?" + +"We'll pay 'em," I replied, "both of 'em, if you break your bail. Come," +but he would not. + +"Frank, if I were not in Oakley Street to-night Willie would tell the police." + +"Your brother?" I cried. + +"Yes," he said, "Willie." + +"Good God!" I exclaimed; "but let him tell. I have not mentioned Erith or the +steam yacht to a soul. It's the last place in the world the police would +suspect and before he talks we shall be out of reach. Besides they cannot do +anything; you are doing nothing wrong. Please trust me, you do nothing +questionable even till you omit to enter the Old Bailey on the 20th of May." + +"You don't know Willie," he continued, "he has made my solicitors buy letters +of mine; he has blackmailed me." + +"Whew!" I whistled. "But in that case you'll have no compunction in leaving him +without saying 'goodbye.' Let's go and get into the brougham." + +"No, no," he repeated, "you don't understand; I can't go, I cannot go." + +"Do you mean it really?" I asked. "Do you mean you will not come and spend +a week yachting with me?" + +"I cannot." + +I drew him a few paces nearer the carriage: something of desolation and despair +in his voice touched me: I looked at him. Tears were pouring down his face; +he was the picture of misery, yet I could not move him. + +"Come into the carriage," I said, hoping that the swift wind in his face would +freshen him up, give him a moment's taste of the joy of living and sharpen the +desire of freedom. + +"Yes, Frank," he said, "if you will take me to Oakley Street." + +"I would as soon take you to prison," I replied; "but as you wish." + +The next moment we had got in and were swinging down Queen's Gate. The mist +seemed to lend keenness to the air. At the bottom of Queen's Gate the coachman +swept of himself to the left into the Cromwell Road; Oscar seemed to wake out of +his stupor. + +"No, Frank," he cried, "no, no," and he fumbled at the handle of the door, "I +must get out; I will not go. I will not go." + +"Sit still," I said in despair, "I'll tell the coachman," and I put my head out +of the window and cried: "Oakley Street, Oakley Street, Chelsea, Robert." + +I do not think I spoke again till we got to Oakley Street. I was consumed with +rage and contemptuous impatience. I had done the best I knew and had failed. +Why? I had no idea. I have never known why he refused to come. I don't think +he knew himself. Such resignation I had never dreamt of. It was utterly new +to me. I used to think of resignation in a vague way as of something rather +beautiful; ever since, I have thought of it with impatience: resignation is the +courage of the irresolute. Oscar's obstinacy was the obverse of his weakness. +It is astonishing how inertia rules some natures. The attraction of waiting and +doing nothing is intense for those who live in thought and detest action. As we +turned into Oakley Street, Oscar said to me: + +"You are not angry with me, Frank?" and he put out his hand. + +"No, no," I said, "why should I be angry? You are the master of your fate. +I can only offer advice." + +"Do come and see me soon," he pleaded. + +"My bolt is shot," I replied; "but I'll come in two or three days' time, as +soon as I have anything of importance to say. . . . . Don't forget, Oscar, the +yacht is there and will be there waiting until the 20th; the yacht will always +be ready and the brougham." + +"Good night, Frank," he said, "good night, and thank you." + +He got out and went into the house, the gloomy sordid house where the brother +lived who would sell his blood for a price! + +. . . . . . . + +Three or four days later we met again, but to my amaze Oscar had not changed +his mind. To talk of him as cast down is the precise truth; he seemed to me as +one who had fallen from a great height and lay half conscious, stunned on the +ground. The moment you moved him, even to raise his head, it gave him pain and +he cried out to be left alone. There he lay prone, and no one could help him. +It was painful to witness his dumb misery: his mind even, his sunny bright +intelligence, seemed to have deserted him. + +Once again he came out with me to lunch. Afterwards we drove through Regent's +Park as the quietest way to Hampstead and had a talk. The air and swift motion +did him good. The beauty of the view from the heath seemed to revive him. +I tried to cheer him up. + +"You must know," I said, "that you can win if you want to. You can not only +bring the jury to doubt, but you can make the judge doubt as well. I was +convinced of your innocence in spite of all the witnesses, and I knew more +about you than they did. In the trial before Mr. Justice Charles, the thing +that saved you was that you spoke of the love of David and Jonathan and the +sweet affection which the common world is determined not to understand. There +is another point against you which you have not touched on yet: Gill asked you +what you had in common with those serving-men and stable boys. You have not +explained that. You have explained that you love youth, the brightness and the +gaiety of it, but you have not explained what seems inexplicable to most men, +that you should go about with servants and strappers." + +"Difficult to explain, Frank, isn't it, without the truth?" Evidently his mind +was not working. + +"No," I replied, "easy, simple. Think of Shakespeare. How did he know Dogberry +and Pistol, Bardolph and Doll Tearsheet? He must have gone about with them. +You don't go about with public school boys of your own class, for you know them; +you have nothing to learn from them: they can teach you nothing. But the stable +boy and servant you cannot sketch in your plays without knowing him, and you +can't know him without getting on his level, and letting him call you 'Oscar' +and calling him 'Charlie.' If you rub this in, the judge will see that he is +face to face with the artist in you and will admit at least that your +explanation is plausible. He will hesitate to condemn you, and once he +hesitates you'll win. + +"You fought badly because you did not show your own nature sufficiently; you did +not use your brains in the witness box and alas--" I did not continue; the truth +was I was filled with fear; for I suddenly realised that he had shown more +courage and self-possession in the Queensberry trial than in the trial before +Mr. Justice Charles when so much more was at stake; and I felt that in the next +trial he would be more depressed still, and less inclined to take the initiative +than ever. I had already learned too that I could not help him; that he would +not be lifted out of that "sweet way of despair," which so attracts the artist +spirit. But still I would do my best. + +"Do you understand?" I asked. + +"Of course, Frank, of course, but you have no conception how weary I am of the +whole thing, of the shame and the struggling and the hatred. To see those +people coming into the box one after the other to witness against me makes me +sick. The self-satisfied grin of the barristers, the pompous foolish judge +with his thin lips and cunning eyes and hard jaw. Oh, it's terrible. I feel +inclined to stretch out my hands and cry to them, 'Do what you will with me, in +God's name, only do it quickly; cannot you see that I am worn out? If hatred +gives you pleasure, indulge it.' They worry one, Frank, with ravening jaws, +as dogs worry a rabbit. Yet they call themselves men. It is appalling." + +The day was dying, the western sky all draped with crimson, saffron and rosy +curtains: a slight mist over London, purple on the horizon, closer, a mere wash +of blue; here and there steeples pierced the thin veil like fingers pointing +upward. On the left the dome of St. Paul's hung like a grey bubble over the +city; on the right the twin towers of Westminster with the river and bridge +which Wordsworth sang. Peace and beauty brooding everywhere, and down there +lost in the mist the "rat pit" that men call the Courts of Justice. There they +judge their fellows, mistaking indifference for impartiality, as if anyone could +judge his fellowman without love, and even with love how far short we all come +of that perfect sympathy which is above forgiveness and takes delight in +succouring the weak, comforting the broken-hearted. + +. . . . . . . + +The days went swiftly by and my powerlessness to influence him filled me with +self-contempt. Of course, I said to myself, if I knew him better I should be +able to help him. Would vanity do anything? It was his mainspring; I could but +try. He might be led by the hope of making Englishmen talk of him again, talk +of him as one who had dared to escape; wonder what he would do next. I would +try, and I did try. But his dejection foiled me: his dislike of the struggle +seemed to grow from day to day. + +He would scarcely listen to me. He was counting the days to the trial: willing +to accept an adverse decision; even punishment and misery and shame seemed +better than doubt and waiting. He surprised me by saying: + +"A year, Frank, they may give me a year? half the possible sentence: the middle +course, that English Judges always take: the sort of compromise they think +safe?" and his eyes searched my face for agreement. + +I felt no such confidence in English Judges; their compromises are usually +bargainings; when they get hold of an artist they give rein to their intuitive +fear and hate. + +But I would not discourage him. I repeated: + +"You can win, Oscar, if you like:--" my litany to him. His wan dejected smile +brought tears to my eyes. + +. . . . . . . + +"Don't you want to make them all speak of you and wonder at you again? If you +were in France, everyone would be asking: will he come back or disappear +altogether? or will he manifest himself henceforth in some new comedies, more +joyous and pagan than ever?" + +I might as well have talked to the dead: he seemed numbed, hypnotised with +despair. The punishment had already been greater than he could bear. I began +to fear that prison, if he were condemned to it, would rob him of his reason; +I sometimes feared that his mind was already giving way, so profound was his +depression, so hopeless his despair. + +. . . . . . . + +The trial opened before Mr. Justice Wills on the 21st of May, 1895. The +Treasury had sent Sir Frank Lockwood, Q.C., M.P., to lead Mr. C. F. Gill, +Mr. Horace Avory, and Mr. Sutton. Oscar was represented by the same counsel +as on the previous occasion. + +The whole trial to me was a nightmare, and it was characterised from the very +beginning by atrocious prejudice and injustice. The High Priests of Law were +weary of being balked; eager to make an end. As soon as the Judge took his +seat, Sir Edward Clarke applied that the defendants should be tried separately. +As they had already been acquitted on the charge of conspiracy, there was no +reason why they should be tried together. + +The Judge called on the Solicitor-General to answer the application. + +The Solicitor-General had nothing to say, but thought it was in the interests +of the defendants to be tried together; for, in case they were tried separately, +it would be necessary to take the defendant Taylor first. + +Sir Edward Clarke tore this pretext to pieces, and Mr. Justice Wills brought the +matter to a conclusion by saying that he was in possession of all the evidence +that had been taken at the previous trials, and his opinion was that the two +defendants should be tried separately. + +Sir Edward Clarke then applied that the case of Mr. Wilde should be taken first +as his name stood first on the indictment, and as the first count was directed +against him and had nothing to do with Taylor. . . . . "There are reasons +present, I am sure, too, in your Lordship's mind, why Wilde should not be tried +immediately after the other defendant." + +Mr. Justice Wills remarked, with seeming indifference, "It ought not to make the +least difference, Sir Edward. I am sure I and the jury will do our best to take +care that the last trial has no influence at all on the present." + +Sir Edward Clarke stuck to his point. He urged respectfully that as Mr. Wilde's +name stood first on the indictment his case should be taken first. + +Mr. Justice Wills said he could not interfere with the discretion of the +prosecution, nor vary the ordinary procedure. Justice and fair play on the one +side and precedent on the other: justice was waved out of court with serene +indifference. Thereupon Sir Edward Clarke pressed that the trial of Mr. Oscar +Wilde should stand over till the next sessions. But again Mr. Justice Wills +refused. Precedent was silent now but prejudice was strong as ever. + +The case against Taylor went on the whole day and was resumed next morning. +Taylor went into the box and denied all the charges. The Judge summed up dead +against him, and at 3.30 the jury retired to consider their verdict: in forty- +five minutes they came into court again with a question which was significant. +In answer to the judge the foreman stated that "they had agreed that Taylor +had introduced Parker to Wilde, but they were not satisfied with Wilde's guilt +in the matter." + +Mr. Justice Wills: "Were you agreed as to the charge on the other counts?" + +Foreman: "Yes, my Lord." + +Mr. Justice Wills: "Well, possibly it would be as well to take your verdict +upon the other counts." + +Through the foreman the jury accordingly intimated that they found Taylor guilty +with regard to Charles and William Parker. + +In answer to his Lordship, Sir F. Lockwood said he would take the verdict given +by the jury of "guilty" upon the two counts. + +A formal verdict having been entered, the judge ordered the prisoner to stand +down, postponing sentence. Did he postpone the sentence in order not to +frighten the next jury by the severity of it? Other reason I could find none. + +Sir Edward Clarke then got up and said that as it was getting rather late, +perhaps after the second jury had disagreed as to Mr. Wilde's guilt-- + +Sir F. Lockwood here interposed hotly: "I object to Sir Edward Clarke making +these little speeches." + +Mr. Justice Wills took the matter up as well. + +"You can hardly call it a disagreement, Sir Edward," though what else he could +call it, I was at a loss to imagine. + +He then adjourned the case against Oscar Wilde till the next day, when a +different jury would be impanelled. But whatever jury might be called they +would certainly hear that their forerunners had found Taylor guilty and they +would know that every London paper without exception had approved the finding. +What a fair chance to give Wilde! It was like trying an Irish Secretary before +a jury of Fenians. + +The next morning, May 23d, Oscar Wilde appeared in the dock. The Solicitor- +General opened the case, and then called his witnesses. One of the first was +Edward Shelley, who in cross-examination admitted that he had been mentally ill +when he wrote Mr. Wilde those letters which had been put in evidence. He was +"made nervous from over-study," he said. + +Alfred Wood admitted that he had had money given him quite recently, practically +blackmailing money. He was as venomous as possible. "When he went to America," +he said, "he told Wilde that he wanted to get away from mixing with him (Wilde) +and Douglas." + +Charlie Parker next repeated his disgusting testimony with ineffable impudence +and a certain exultation. Bestial ignominy could go no lower; he admitted +that since the former trial he had been kept at the expense of the prosecution. +After this confession the case was adjourned and we came out of court. + +When I reached Fleet Street I was astonished to hear that there had been a row +that same afternoon in Piccadilly between Lord Douglas of Hawick and his father, +the Marquis of Queensberry. Lord Queensberry, it appears, had been writing +disgusting letters about the Wilde case to Lord Douglas's wife. Meeting him +in Piccadilly Percy Douglas stopped him and asked him to cease writing obscene +letters to his wife. The Marquis said he would not and the father and son came +to blows. Queensberry it seems was exasperated by the fact that Douglas of +Hawick was one of those who had gone bail for Oscar Wilde. One of the telegrams +which the Marquis of Queensberry had sent to Lady Douglas I must put in just to +show the insane nature of the man who could exult in a trial which was damning +the reputation of his own son. The letter was manifestly written after the +result of the Taylor trial: + +Must congratulate on verdict, cannot on Percy's appearance. Looks like a +dug up corpse. Fear too much madness of kissing. Taylor guilty. Wilde's +turn tomorrow. + +Queensberry. + +In examination before the magistrate, Mr. Hannay, it was stated that Lord +Queensberry had been sending similar letters to Lady Douglas "full of the +most disgusting charges against Lord Douglas, his wife, and Lord Queensberry's +divorced wife and her family." But Mr. Hannay thought all this provocation was +of no importance and bound over both father and son to keep the peace--an +indefensible decision, a decision only to be explained by the sympathy +everywhere shown to Queensberry because of his victory over Wilde, otherwise +surely any honest magistrate would have condemned the father who sent obscene +letters to his son's wife--a lady above reproach. These vile letters and the +magistrate's bias, seemed to me to add the final touch of the grotesque to the +horrible vileness of the trial. It was all worthy of the seventh circle of +Dante, but Dante had never imagined such a father and such judges! + +. . . . . . . + +Next morning Oscar Wilde was again put in the dock. The evidence of the +Queensberry trial was read and therewith the case was closed for the Crown. + +Sir Edward Clarke rose and submitted that there was no case to go to the jury on +the general counts. After a long legal argument for and against, Mr. Justice +Wills said that he would reserve the question for the Court of Appeal. The view +he took was that "the evidence was of the slenderest kind"; but he thought the +responsibility must be left with the jury. To this judge "the slenderest kind" +of evidence was worthful so long as it told against the accused. + +Sir Edward Clarke then argued that the cases of Shelley, Parker, and Wood failed +on the ground of the absence of corroboration. Mr. Justice Wills admitted that +Shelley showed "a peculiar exaltation" of mind; there was, too, mental +derangement in his family, and worst of all there was no corroboration of his +statements. Accordingly, in spite of the arguments of the Solicitor-General, +Shelley's evidence was cut out. But Shelley's evidence had already been taken, +had already prejudiced the jury. Indeed, it had been the evidence which had +influenced Mr. Justice Charles in the previous trial to sum up dead against the +defendant: Mr. Justice Charles called Shelley "the only serious witness." + +Now it appeared that Shelley's evidence should never have been taken at all, +that the jury ought never to have heard Shelley's testimony or the Judge's +acceptance of it! + +. . . . . . . + +When the court opened next morning I knew that the whole case depended on Oscar +Wilde, and the showing he would make in the box, but alas! he was broken and +numbed. He was not a fighter, and the length of this contest might have wearied +a combative nature. The Solicitor-General began by examining him on his letters +to Lord Alfred Douglas and we had the "prose poem" again and the rest of the +ineffable nonsensical prejudice of the middle-class mind against passionate +sentiment. It came out in evidence that Lord Alfred Douglas was now in Calais. +His hatred of his father was the "causa causans" of the whole case; he had +pushed Oscar into the fight and Oscar, still intent on shielding him, declared +that he had asked him to go abroad. + +Sir Edward Clarke again did his poor best. He pointed out that the trial rested +on the evidence of mere blackmailers. He would not quarrel with that and +discuss it, but it was impossible not to see that if blackmailers were to be +listened to and believed, their profession might speedily become a more deadly +mischief and danger to society than it had ever been. + +The speech was a weak one; but the people in court cheered Sir Edward Clarke; +the cheers were immediately suppressed by the Judge. + +The Solicitor-General took up the rest of the day with a rancorous reply. Sir +Edward Clarke even had to remind him that law officers of the Crown should try +to be impartial. One instance of his prejudice may be given. Examining Oscar +as to his letters to Lord Alfred Douglas, Sir Frank Lockwood wanted to know +whether he thought them "decent"? + +The witness replied, "Yes." + +"Do you know the meaning of the word, sir?" was this gentleman's retort. + +I went out of the court feeling certain that the case was lost. Oscar had not +shown himself at all; he had not even spoken with the vigour he had used at the +Queensberry trial. He seemed too despairing to strike a blow. + +The summing up of the Judge on May 25th was perversely stupid and malevolent. +He began by declaring that he was "absolutely impartial," though his view of the +facts had to be corrected again and again by Sir Edward Clarke: he went on to +regret that the charge of conspiracy should have been introduced, as it had to +be abandoned. He then pointed out that he could not give a colourless summing +up, which was "of no use to anybody." His intelligence can be judged from one +crucial point: he fastened on the fact that Oscar had burnt the letters which +he bought from Wood, which he said were of no importance, except that they +concerned third parties. The Judge had persuaded himself that the letters were +indescribably bad, forgetting apparently that Wood or his associates had +selected and retained the very worst of them for purposes of blackmail and that +this Judge himself, after reading it, couldn't attribute any weight to it; still +he insisted that burning the letters was an act of madness; whereas it seemed to +everyone of the slightest imagination the most natural thing in the world for an +innocent man to do. At the time Oscar burnt the letters he had no idea that he +would ever be on trial. His letters had been misunderstood and the worst of +them was being used against him, and when he got the others he naturally threw +them into the fire. The Judge held that it was madness, and built upon this +inference a pyramid of guilt. "Nothing said by Wood should be believed, as he +belongs to the vilest class of criminals; the strength of the accusation depends +solely upon the character of the original introduction of Wood to Wilde as +illustrated and fortified by the story with regard to the letters and their +burning." + +A pyramid of guilt carefully balanced on its apex! If the foolish Judge had only +read his Shakespeare! What does Henry VI say: + +Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester +Than from true evidence of good esteem +He be approved in practice culpable. + +There was no "true evidence of good esteem" against Wilde, but the Judge turned +a harmless action into a confession of guilt. + +Then came an interruption which threw light on the English conception of +justice. The foreman of the jury wanted to know, in view of the intimate +relations between Lord Alfred Douglas and the defendant, whether a warrant +against Lord Alfred Douglas was ever issued. + +Mr. Justice Wills: "I should say not; we have never heard of it." + +Foreman: "Or ever contemplated?" + +Mr. Justice Wills: "That I cannot say, nor can we discuss it. The issue of such +a warrant would not depend upon the testimony of the parties, but whether there +was evidence of such act. Letters pointing to such relations would not be +sufficient. Lord Alfred Douglas was not called, and you can give what weight +you like to that." + +Foreman: "If we are to deduce any guilt from these letters, it would apply +equally to Lord Alfred Douglas." + +Mr. Justice Wills concurred in that view, but after all he thought it had +nothing to do with the present trial, which was the guilt of the accused. + +The jury retired to consider their verdict at half past three. After being +absent two hours they returned to know whether there was any evidence of +Charles Parker having slept at St. James's Place. + +His Lordship replied, "No." + +The jury shortly afterwards returned again with the verdict of "Guilty" on all +the counts. + +It may be worth while to note again that the Judge himself admitted that the +evidence on some of the counts was of "the slenderest kind"; but, when backed +by his prejudiced summing up, it was more than sufficient for the jury. + +Sir Edward Clarke pleaded that sentence should be postponed till the next +sessions, when the legal argument would be heard. + +Mr. Justice Wills would not be balked: sentence, he thought, should be given +immediately. Then, addressing the prisoners, he said, and again I give his +exact words, lest I should do him wrong: + + +"Oscar Wilde and Alfred Taylor, the crime of which you have been convicted is so +bad that one has to put stern restraint upon one's self to prevent one's self +from describing in language which I would rather not use the sentiments which +must rise to the breast of every man of honour who has heard the details of +these two terrible trials. + +"That the jury have arrived at a correct verdict in this case I cannot persuade +myself to entertain the shadow of a doubt; and I hope, at all events, that those +who sometimes imagine that a Judge is half-hearted in the cause of decency and +morality because he takes care no prejudice shall enter into the case may see +that that is consistent at least with the utmost sense of indignation at the +horrible charges brought home to both of you. + +"It is no use for me to address you. People who can do these things must be +dead to all sense of shame, and one cannot hope to produce any effect upon them. +It is the worst case I have ever tried. . . . . That you, Wilde, have been the +centre of a circle of extensive corruption of the most hideous kind among young +men it is impossible to doubt. + +"I shall under such circumstances be expected to pass the severest sentence +that the law allows. In my judgment it is totally inadequate for such a case +as this. + +"The sentence of the court is that each of you be imprisoned and kept to hard +labour for two years." + +The sentence hushed the court in shocked surprise. + +Wilde rose and cried, "Can I say anything, my lord?" + +Mr. Justice Wills waved his hand deprecatingly amid cries of "Shame" and hisses +from the public gallery; some of the cries and hisses were certainly addressed +to the Judge and well deserved. What did he mean by saying that Oscar was a +"centre of extensive corruption of the most hideous kind"? No evidence of this +had been brought forward by the prosecution. It was not even alleged that a +single innocent person had been corrupted. The accusation was invented by this +"absolutely impartial" Judge to justify his atrocious cruelty. The unmerited +insults and appalling sentence would have disgraced the worst Judge of the +Inquisition. + +Mr. Justice Wills evidently suffered from the peculiar "exaltation" of mind +which he had recognised in Shelley. This peculiarity is shared in a lesser +degree by several other Judges on the English bench in all matters of sexual +morality. What distinguished Mr. Justice Wills was that he was proud of his +prejudice and eager to act on it. He evidently did not know, or did not care, +that the sentence which he had given, declaring it was "totally inadequate," +had been condemned by a Royal Commission as "inhuman." He would willingly +have pushed "inhumanity" to savagery, out of sheer bewigged stupidity, and +that he was probably well-meaning only intensified the revolt one felt at such +brainless malevolence. + +The bitterest words in Dante are not bitter enough to render my feeling: + +"Non ragioniam di lor ma guarda e passa." + +The whole scene had sickened me. Hatred masquerading as justice, striking +vindictively and adding insult to injury. The vile picture had its fit setting +outside. We had not left the court when the cheering broke out in the streets, +and when we came outside there were troops of the lowest women of the town +dancing together and kicking up their legs in hideous abandonment, while the +surrounding crowd of policemen and spectators guffawed with delight. As I +turned away from the exhibition, as obscene and soul-defiling as anything +witnessed in the madness of the French revolution, I caught a glimpse of Wood +and the Parkers getting into a cab, laughing and leering. + + +These were the venal creatures Oscar Wilde was punished for having corrupted! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Oscar Wilde, His Life and Confessions, by Harris +Volume 1 + diff --git a/3662.zip b/3662.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1534c8c --- /dev/null +++ b/3662.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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