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diff --git a/38251.txt b/38251.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a73b0d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/38251.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10755 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Oscar Wilde, by Leonard Cresswell Ingleby + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Oscar Wilde + +Author: Leonard Cresswell Ingleby + +Release Date: December 9, 2011 [EBook #38251] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OSCAR WILDE *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, Cathy Maxam and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: + +In this plain-text version formatting symbols are used as follows: + + Underscores indicate _italics_ + Double colons indicate ::underlining:: + +Pages 313-315 in the original text are printed in two columns. For +purposes of more accessible display on electronic devices, in this +plain-text version of the book, the text from the columns has been +placed one following the other instead of side-by-side. + +Inconsistencies in the author's use of hyphens and accent marks have +been left unchanged, as in the original text. Obvious typographical +errors have been corrected without comment. One example of a +typographical error is on page 144 where the word "miuutes" was +corrected to "minutes". In cases other than obvious typographical +errors, the author's spelling has been left unchanged from the original +text with the following three exceptions: + + 1. Page 126 the word "worldings" was changed to "worldlings" in the + phrase: "... guests are all mere worldlings...." + + 2. Page 262 the quoted phrase from the original: "Fait vour quelle + sera votre votre maturite" was changed to: "Fait voir quelle sera + votre maturite" which is the correct wording from the poem "A Theodore + de Banville" by Charles Baudelaire. + + 3. Page 317 the name "Bazil" was changed to "Basil" in the phrase: + "... Basil Hallward's studio...." to correspond with the author's + other spellings of the name Basil Hallward. + +Two items in the index, which were out of alphabetical order ("De +Profundis--Biblical influence" and "Shaw, G. B.") were placed in correct +alphabetical order in this version. + + + + +OSCAR WILDE + + + + + ::THIRD EDITION:: + + THE LIFE OF + OSCAR WILDE + + WITH A CHAPTER CONTRIBUTED BY + THE PRISON WARDER WHO HELD + THIS UNHAPPY MAN IN GAOL + + _Very fully Illustrated and with Photogravure + Frontispiece, and a Biography_ + + By + + ROBERT HARBOROUGH SHERARD + + _Demy 8vo, Cloth gilt_ + + _Also a limited edition de luxe_ + +[Illustration] + +OSCAR WILDE, + +_From a Crayon Portrait by_ S. WRAY. + + + + + OSCAR WILDE + + BY + + LEONARD CRESSWELL INGLEBY + + LONDON + T. WERNER LAURIE + + NEW YORK + MITCHELL KENNERLEY + + MCMVII + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + PART I + + OSCAR WILDE: THE MAN 3 + + PART II + + THE MODERN PLAYWRIGHT + The Dramatist 95 + "Lady Windermere's Fan" 104 + "A Woman Of No Importance" 119 + "The Ideal Husband" 129 + "The Importance Of Being Earnest" 149 + + PART III + + THE ROMANTIC DRAMAS + "Salome" 161 + "The Duchess of Padua" 199 + "Vera, or the Nihilists" 207 + "The Florentine Tragedy" 215 + "The Woman Covered With Jewels" 220 + + PART IV + + THE WRITER OF FAIRY STORIES + The Fairy Stories 227 + + PART V + + THE POET + Poems 245 + + PART VI + + THE FICTION WRITER + Fiction 301 + + PART VII + + THE PHILOSOPHY OF BEAUTY 331 + + PART VIII + + "DE PROFUNDIS" 359 + + INDEX 397 + + + + +PART I + +OSCAR WILDE: THE MAN + + + + +OSCAR WILDE + +THE MAN + + +The [Greek: synetoi], the connoisseurs, always recognised the genius of +Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde from the very first moment when he +began to write. For many years ordinary people to whom literature and +literary affairs were not of, at anyrate, absorbing interest only knew +of Oscar Wilde by his extravagances and poses. + +Then it happened that Wilde turned his powers in the direction of the +stage and achieved a swift and brilliant success. The English public +then began to realise that here was an unusually brilliant man, and the +extraordinary genius of the subject of this work would have certainly +been universally recognised in a few more years, when the shocking +scandals associated with his name occurred and Oscar Wilde disappeared +into oblivion. + +A great change gradually took place in public opinion. Little by little +the feeling of prejudice against the work of Oscar Wilde began to die +away. The man himself was dead. He had expiated his crimes by a +prolonged agony of the most hideous suffering and disgrace, and people +began to wonder if his writings were in any way associated with the dark +side of his life and character, or whether they might not, after all, be +beautiful, pure, and treasures of the literature of our time. The four +comedies of Manners, "Lady Windermere's Fan," "The Ideal Husband," "A +Woman Of No Importance," "The Importance Of Being Earnest," everyone had +seen and laughed at. They were certainly absolutely without offence. It +was gradually seen that because a house was built by an architect of an +immoral private life that did not necessarily invalidate it as a +residence, that if Stephenson had ended his life upon the gallows people +would still find railways convenient and necessary. The truth gradually +dawned that Wilde had never in his life written a line that was immoral +or impure, and that, in short, the criminal side of him was only a part +of his complex nature, horribly disastrous for himself and his personal +life, but absolutely without influence upon his work. + +Art and his aberration never mingled or overlapped. Everybody began to +realise the fact. + +Opinion was also being quietly moulded from within by a band of literary +and artistic people, some of them friends of the late author, others +knowing him simply through his work. + +The public began to ask for Wilde's books and found it almost +impossible to obtain them, for the "Ballad of Reading Gaol," published +while its author was still alive, had not stimulated any general demand +for other works. + +It was after Oscar Wilde's death that his friends and admirers were able +to set to work at their endeavours to rehabilitate him as artist in the +mind of general prejudice. Books and monographs were written about Wilde +in English, French, and German. He was quoted in the leading Continental +reviews. His play "Salome" met with sudden and stupendous success all +over Europe, a famous musician turned it into an opera. A well-known +English man of letters, Mr Robert Harborough Sherard, published a final +official "Life" of the dead author, and Wilde's own "De Profundis" +appeared to startle, sadden, and thrill the whole reading world. + +His plays are being revived, and an authoritative and exhaustive edition +of his writings is being issued by a leading publishing house. + +There is no doubt about it, the most prejudiced and hostile critics must +admit it--in a literary sense, as a man of letters with extraordinary +genius, Oscar Wilde has come into his own. The time is, therefore, ripe +for a work of the present character which endeavours to "appreciate" one +of the strangest, saddest, most artistic and powerful brains of modern +times. Five years ago such a book as this would probably have been out +of place. When Balzac died Sainte-Beuve prefaced a short critical +article of fourteen pages, as follows:-- + + "A careful study of the famous novelist who has just been taken + from us, and whose sudden loss has excited universal interest, + would require a whole work, and the time for that, I think, has not + yet come. Those sort of moral autopsies cannot be made over a + freshly dug grave, especially when he who has been laid in it was + full of strength and fertility, and seemed still full of future + works and days. All that is possible and fitting in respect of a + great contemporary renown at the moment death lays it low is to + point out, by means of a few clear-cut lines, the merits, the + varied skill, by which it charmed its epoch and acquired influence + over it." + +When Oscar Wilde died, and before the publication of "De Profundis," +various short essays did, as I have stated, make an appearance. A longer +work seems called for, and it is that want which the present volume does +its best to supply. + +"Oscar Wilde: The Man" is the title of the first part of this +Appreciation. In Mr Sherard's "The Story of an Unhappy Friendship," as +also in his careful and scholarly "Life," the many-sided nature of Oscar +Wilde was set forth with all the ability of a brilliant pen. But there +is yet room for another, and possibly more detached point of view, and +also a summary of the views of others which will assist the general +reader to gain a mental picture of a writer whose works, in a very short +time, are certain to have a general, as well as a particular appeal. + +The scheme of a work of this nature, which is critical rather than +biographical, would nevertheless be incomplete without a personal study. + +The study of Wilde's writings cannot fail to be enormously assisted by +some knowledge of synetoithe man himself, and how he was regarded by +others both before and after his personal disgrace. + +Ever since his name was known to the world at all the public view of him +has constantly been shifting and changing. There are, however, four +principal periods during each of which Wilde was regarded in a totally +different way. I have made a careful analysis of each of these periods +and collected documentary and other evidence which defines and explains +them. + +The first period of all--Oscar Wilde himself always spoke of the +different phases of his extraordinary career as "periods"--was that of +the "AEsthetic movement" as it is generally called, or the aesthetic +"craze" as many people prefer to name it still. New movements, whether +good or bad in their conception and ultimate result, always excite +enmity, hostility, and ridicule. In affairs, in religion, in art, this +is an invariable rule. No pioneer has ever escaped it. England laughed +at the first railway, jeered at the volunteer movement and laughed at +John Keats in precisely the same fashion as it ridiculed Oscar Wilde and +the aesthetic movement. + +It is as well to define that movement carefully, for, though marred by +innumerable extravagances and still suffering from the inanities of its +first disciples, it has nevertheless had a real and permanent influence +upon English life. Oscar Wilde was, of course, not the originator of the +aesthetic movement. He took upon himself to become its hierophant, and to +infuse much that was peculiarly his own into it. The movement was begun +by Ruskin, Rossetti, William Morris, Burne-Jones, and a host of others, +while it was continued in the delicate and beautiful writings of Walter +Pater. But it had always been an eclectic movement, not for the public +eye or ear, neither known of nor popular with ordinary people. + +Oscar Wilde then began to interest and excite England and America in the +true aims and methods of art of all kinds. It shows an absolute +ignorance of the late Victorian era to say that the movement was a +passing craze. To Oscar Wilde we owe it that people of refined tastes +but moderate means can obtain beautiful papers for the walls of their +houses at a moderate cost. The cheap and lovely fabrics that we can buy +in Regent Street are spun as a direct consequence of the movement; +harmony and delicacy of colour, beauty of curve and line, the whole +renaissance of art in our household furniture are mainly due to the +writings and lectures of Oscar Wilde. + +It is not a crime to love beautiful things, it is not effeminate to care +for them. It is to the subject of this appreciation we owe our national +change of feeling on such matters. + +This, briefly, is what the aesthetic movement was, such are its +indubitable results. Let us see, in some instances, how Wilde was +regarded in the period when, before his real literary successes, he +preached the gospel of Beauty in everyday life. + +Let us take a Continental view of Wilde in his first period, the view of +a really eminent man, a distinguished scientist and man of letters. + +The name of Dr Max Nordau will be familiar to many readers of this book. +But, if the book fulfils the purpose for which it was designed, then +possibly there will be many readers who will know little or nothing of +the distinguished foreign writer. Hard, one-sided, and bitter as his +remarks upon Wilde during the aesthetic movement will seem to most of +us--seem to me--yet they have the merit of absolute detachment and +sincerity. It is as well to insist on this fact in order that my +readers may realise exactly such value as the words may have, no less +and no more. The following short account of Dr Max Nordau's position and +achievements is taken from that useful dictionary of celebrities, "Who's +Who?" for 1907:-- + + "NORDAU, MAX SIMON, M.D. Paris, Budapesth; Officier d'Academie, + France; Commander of the Royal Hellenic Order of the St Saviour; + author and physician; President Congress of Zionists; Hon. Mem. of + the Greek Acad. of the Parnassos; _b._ Budapesth, 29th July 1849; + _y. s._ of Gabriel Suedfield, Rabbi, Krotoschin, Prussia, and his + 2nd wife, _b._ Nelkin, Riga, Russia. _Educ._ Royal Gymnasium and + Protestant Gymnasium, Budapesth; Royal University, Budapesth; + Faculty of Medicine, Paris. Wrote very early for newspapers; + travelled for several years all over Europe; practised as a + physician for a year and a half, 1878-80, at Budapesth; settled + then at Paris, residing there ever since; _m._ Anna-Elizabeth, 2nd + _d._ of State-councillor Captain Julius Dons, Copenhagen, Denmark; + one _d._ _Publications_: Paris, Studien und Bilder aus dem wahren + Milliardenlande, 1878; Seifenblasen, 1879; Vom Kreml zur Alhambra, + 1880; Aus der Zeitungswelt (together with Ferdinand Gross), 1880; + Paris under der dritten Republik, 1881; der Krieg der Millionen, + 1882; Die conventionellen Luegen der Culturmenschheit, 1883; + Ausgewaehlte Pariser Briefe, 1884; Paradoxe, 1885; Die Krankheit des + Jahrhunderts, 1887; Seelenanalysen, 1891; Gefuehlskomoedie, 1892; + Entartung, 1893; Das Recht zu lieben, 1894; Die Kugel, 1895; + Drohnenschlacht, 1896; La funzione sociale dell arte, 1897; Doctor + Kohn, 1898; The Drones must Die, 1899: Zeitgenoessische Franzosen, + 1901; Morganatic, 1904; Maha-Rog, 1905. _Recreations_: + foil-fencing, swimming. _Address_: 8, Rue Leonie, Paris." + +Nearly all the modern manifestations of Art, implies Dr Max Nordau, in +"Degeneration," are manifestations of madness. Such a sweeping statement +is incredible and has not--nor will it have--many advocates, despite the +brilliant special pleading of its originator. In Oscar Wilde's case the +aphorism seems particularly misleading for the reason that there may +appear to be a considerable amount of truth in it. + +That Wilde's _social_ downfall was due to a certain kind of elliptiform +insanity is without doubt. Mr Sherard has insisted on this over and over +again. He has spent enormous labour in researches into Wilde's ancestry. +His view is really a scientific view because it is written by an artist +who sees both sides of the question, has a judicial mind, and while +capable of appreciating the truths that science teaches us, is further +capable of welding them to the psychological truths which the intuition +of the artist alone evolves. + +A certain definite and partial insanity alone can explain Wilde's life +in certain of its aspects. But when once his pen was in his hand, in his +real bright life of literature and art, this hidden thing entirely +disappears. Therefore, Dr Max Nordau's study seems to me fundamentally +wrong, though extremely interesting and not to be disregarded. To know +Oscar Wilde we must know what all sorts of people, whose opinion has +weight enough to secure a wide hearing, really thought about him. + +The German scientist said: + + "The ego-mania of decadentism, its love of the artificial, its + aversion to nature, and to all forms of activity and movement, its + megalomaniacal contempt for men and its exaggeration of the + importance of art, have found their English representative among + the 'AEsthetes,' the chief of whom is Oscar Wilde. + + "Wilde has done more by his personal eccentricities than by his + works. Like Barbey d'Aurevilly, whose rose-coloured silk hats and + gold lace cravats are well known, and like his disciple Josephin + Peladan, who walks about in lace frills and satin doublet, Wilde + dresses in queer costumes which recall partly the fashions of the + Middle Ages, partly the rococo modes. He pretends to have abandoned + the dress of the present time because it offends his sense of the + beautiful; but this is only a pretext in which probably he himself + does not believe. What really determines his actions is the + hysterical craving to be noticed, to occupy the attention of the + world with himself, to get talked about. It is asserted that he has + walked down Pall Mall in the afternoon dressed in doublet and + breeches, with a picturesque biretta on his head, and a sunflower + in his hand, the quasi-heraldic symbol of the AEsthetes. This + anecdote has been reproduced in all the biographies of Wilde, and I + have nowhere seen it denied. But it is a promenade with a sunflower + in the hand also inspired by a craving for the beautiful. + + "Phrasemakers are perpetually repeating the twaddle, that it is a + proof of honourable independence to follow one's own taste without + being bound down to the regulation costume of the Philistine + cattle, and to choose for clothes the colours, materials and cut + which appear beautiful to oneself, no matter how much they may + differ from the fashion of the day. The answer to this cackle + should be that it is above all a sign of anti-social ego-mania to + irritate the majority unnecessarily, only to gratify vanity, or an + aesthetical instinct of small importance and easy to control--such + as is always done when, either by word or deed, a man places + himself in opposition to this majority. He is obliged to repress + many manifestations of opinions and desires out of regard for his + fellow-creatures; to make him understand this is the aim of + education, and he who has not learnt to impose some restraint upon + himself in order not to shock others is called by malicious + Philistines, not an AEsthete, but a blackguard. + + "It may become a duty to combat the vulgar herd in the cause of + truth and knowledge; but to a serious man this duty will always be + felt as a painful one. He will never fulfil it with a light heart, + and he will examine strictly and cautiously if it be really a high + and imperative law which forces him to be disagreeable to the + majority of his fellow-creatures. Such an action is, in the eyes of + a moral and sane man, a kind of martyrdom for a conviction, to + carry out which constitutes a vital necessity; it is a form, and + not an easy form, of self-sacrifice, for it means the renunciation + of the joy which the consciousness of sympathy with one's + fellow-creatures gives, and it exacts the painful overthrow of + social instincts, which, in truth, do not exist in deranged + ego-maniacs, but are very strong in the normal man. + + "The predilection for strange costume is a pathological aberration + of a racial instinct. The adornment of the exterior has its origin + in the strong desire to be admired by others--primarily by the + opposite sex--to be recognised by them as especially well shaped, + handsome, youthful, or rich and powerful, or as pre-eminent + through rank or merit. It is practised, then, with the object of + producing a favourable impression on others, and is a result of + thought about others, of preoccupation with the race. If, now, this + adornment be, not through misjudgment but purposely, of a character + to cause irritation to others, or lend itself to ridicule--in other + words, if it excites disapproval instead of approbation--it then + runs exactly counter to the object of the art of dress, and evinces + a perversion of the instinct of vanity. + + "The pretence of a sense of beauty is the excuse of consciousness + for a crank of the conscious. The fool who masquerades in Pall Mall + does not see himself, and, therefore, does not enjoy the beautiful + appearance which is supposed to be an aesthetic necessity for him. + There would be some sense in his conduct if it had for its object + an endeavour to cause others to dress in accordance with his taste; + for them he sees and they can scandalise him by the ugliness, and + charm by the beauty, of their costume. But to take the initiative + in a new artistic style in dress brings the innovator not one + hair's breadth nearer his assumed goal of aesthetic satisfaction. + + "When, therefore, an Oscar Wilde goes about in 'aesthetic costume' + among gazing Philistines, exciting either their ridicule or their + wrath, it is no indication of independence of character, but rather + from a purely anti-socialistic, ego-maniacal recklessness and + hysterical longing to make a sensation, justified by no exalted + aim; nor is it from a strong desire of beauty, but from a + malevolent mania for contradiction." + +It is impossible to read the extracts quoted above--and only a few +paragraphs sufficient to show the trend of a much longer article have +been used--without realising its injustice and yet at the same time its +perfect sincerity. During the "first period," with which we are dealing +now, Wilde undoubtedly excited the enmity and ridicule of a vast number +of people. He knew that he had something to say which was worth +listening to. He knew also--as the genius always has known--that he was +superior in intellect to those by whom he was surrounded. His +temperament was impatient. He wanted to take the place to which he felt +he was entitled in a sudden moment. His quick Celtic imagination ran +riot with fact, his immeasurable ambition, his serene consciousness of +worth, which to usual minds and temperaments suggested nothing but +conceit, all urged him to display and extravagance in order to more +speedily mount the rostrum from which he would be heard. + +Therefore, in this first period of this so astonishing a career, he went +far to spoil and obscure his message by the very means he hoped would +enable him to publish it widely. He invented a pose which he intended +should become a megaphone, whereas, in the effect, it did but retard +the hearing of his voice until the practical wisdom of what he wished to +say proved itself in concrete form. + +Nor must we ever forget the man's constant sense of humour, a mocking +sprite which doubtless led him to this or that public foolishness while +he chuckled within at his own attitude and the dance he was leading his +imitators and fools. For Oscar Wilde had a supreme sense of humour. Many +people would like to deny him _humour_, while admitting his marvellous +and scintillating _wit_. That they are wrong I unhesitatingly assert, +and I believe that this will be proved over and over again in the +following pages. + +Let us take another view of Wilde at this period. It was written after +his disappearance from public life, or rather when it was imminent and +certain. The words are those of Mr Labouchere, the _flaneur_ with an +intellect, the somewhat acid critic of how many changing aspects and +phases of English social life. + +"I have known Oscar Wilde off and on for years," writes Mr Labouchere in +_Truth_. "Clever and witty he unquestionably is, but I have always +regarded him as somewhat wrong in the head, for his craving after +notoriety seemed to me a positive craze. There was nothing that he would +not do to attract attention. When he went over to New York he went +about dressed in a bottle-green coat with a waist up to his shoulders. +When he entered a restaurant people threw things at him. When he drove +in the evening to deliver his lectures the windows of his carriage were +broken, until a policeman rode on each side of it. Far from objecting to +all this, it filled him with delighted complacency. 'Insult me, throw +mud at me, but only look at me,' seemed to be his creed; and such a +creed was never acted upon by anyone whose mind was not out of balance. +So strange and wondrous is his mind, when in an abnormal condition, that +it would not surprise me if he were deriving a keen enjoyment from a +position which most people, whether really innocent or guilty, would +prefer to die rather than occupy. He must have known in what a glass +house he lived when he challenged investigation in a court of justice. +After he had done this he went abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The +possibilities of a prison may not be pleasing to him, but I believe that +the notoriety that has overtaken him has such a charm for him that it +outweighs everything else. I remember, in the early days of the cult of +aestheticism, hearing someone ask him how a man of his undoubted capacity +could make such a fool of himself. He gave this explanation. He had +written, he said, a book of poems, and he believed in their excellence. +In vain he went from publisher to publisher asking them to bring them +out: no one would even read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a +publisher he felt that he must do something to become a personality. So +he hit upon aestheticism. It succeeded. People talked about him; they +invited him to their houses as a sort of lion. He then took his poems to +a publisher, who--still without reading them--gladly accepted them." + +This is thoroughly unsympathetic, but no doubt it represents a mood with +some faithfulness. In criticising the work of critics one _must be a +psychologist_. Religion, the Christian religion at anyrate, teaches +tolerance. Its teachings are seldom obeyed. The four Hags of the +litany--let us personify them!--Envy, Hatred, Malice, and +Uncharitableness unfortunately intrude into religious life too often and +too powerfully. But the real psychologist, not the scientist (_vide_ +Nordau) _is_ able to understand better than anyone else the motives +which have animated criticism at any given date. The psychologist more +than any other type of man or woman has learnt the lesson Charles Reade +tried to inculcate in "Put Yourself In His Place." + +With a little effort, we can realise what _Truth_ thought when these +lines were written. We cannot blame the writer, we can only record his +words as a part of the general statement dealing with Oscar Wilde's life +and attitude during the "AEsthetic Period." + +At this point the reader may possibly ask himself if the title given to +the book--"Oscar Wilde: an Appreciation"--is entirely justified. "The +writer of it," he may say to himself, "is giving us examples of hostile +criticism of Wilde's first period, and though he endeavours to explain +them, yet, in an appreciation, it rather seems that such quotations are +out of place." + +I do not think that if the point of view is considered for a moment, the +stricture will be persisted in. + +Eulogy, indiscriminating eulogy, is simply an _ex parte_ statement which +can have no weight at all. I shall endeavour to show, before this first +part of the book is completed, not only how those who attacked Wilde +were mistaken, not only how those who bestowed indiscriminate praise +upon him made an over-statement, but finally and definitely what Wilde +was as seen through the temperament of the writer, corrected by the +statements of other writers both for and against him. + +I am convinced that this is the only scientific method of arriving at a +just estimation of the character of this brilliant and extraordinary +man. No summing up of the aesthetic period could be complete without +copious references to the great chronicler of our modern life--the +pages of Mr Punch. + +_Punch_ has never been bitter. It has often been severe, but Mr Punch +has always, from the very first moment of his arrival among us, +successfully held the balance between this or that faction, and, +moreover, has faithfully reflected the consensus of public opinion upon +any given matter. + +The extraordinary skill with which some of the brightest and merriest +wits have made our national comic paper the true diary of events cannot +be controverted or disputed. Follies and fashions have been criticised +with satire, but never with spleen. Addison said that the "appearance of +a man of genius in the world may always be known by the virulence of +dunces." _Punch_ has proved for generations that its kindly appreciation +or depreciation has never been virulent, but nearly always an accurate +statement of the opinion and point of view of the ordinary more or less +cultured and well-bred person. + +It has always been a sign of eminence in this or that department of life +to be mentioned in _Punch_ at all. The conductors of that journal during +its whole career have always exercised the wisest discrimination, and +have always kept shrewd fingers upon the pulses of English thought. When +a politician, for example, is caricatured in _Punch_ that politician +knows that he has arrived at a certain place and point in public +estimation. When a writer is caricatured, either in line or words, he +also knows that he has, at anyrate, obtained a hold of this or that sort +upon the country. + +Now those who would try to minimise the place of Oscar Wilde in the +public eye during the aesthetic period have only to look at the pages of +_Punch_ to realise how greatly that movement influenced English life +during its continuance. + +Let it be thoroughly understood--and very few people will attempt to +deny it--that _Punch_ has always been a perfectly adjusted barometer of +celebrity. + +It is, therefore, not out of place, herein, to publish a bibliography of +the references to Oscar Wilde which, from first to last of that +cometlike career, appeared in the pages of Mr Punch. Such a list proves +immediately the one-sidedness of Dr Max Nordau's and Mr Labouchere's +views. From extracts I have given from the remarks of these two eminent +people the ordinary man might well be inclined to think that the +aesthetic movement and the doings of Oscar Wilde in his first period were +small and local things. This is not so, and the following carefully +compiled list will show that it is not so. + +The list has been properly indexed and is now given below. Afterwards I +shall give a small selection from the witticisms of the famous journal +to support the bibliography. + +Those students of the work of Oscar Wilde and his position in modern +life will find the references below of great interest. They date from +1881 to 1906, and those collectors of "Oscariana" and students of +Wilde's work will doubtless be able to obtain the numbers in which the +following articles, poems, and paragraphs have appeared. + + +1881 + + February 12, p. 62. Maudle on the Choice of a Profession. + + " " p. 71. Beauty _Not_ at Home. + + April 9, p. 161. A Maudle in Ballad. _To His Lily._ + + " 30, p. 201. The First of May. An AEsthetic + Rondeau. Substitution. + + May 7, p. 213. A Padded Cell. + + " " p. 215. Design for an AEsthetic Theatrical + Poster. "Let Us Live Up To It." + + " 14, p. 218. The Grosvenor Gallery. + + " " p. 220. Fashionable Nursery Rhyme. + + " " p. 221. Philistia Defiant. + + " 28, p. 242. More Impressions. _By Oscuro + Wildegoose._ La Fuite des Oies. + + " " p. 245. AEsthetic Notes. + + June 25, p. 297. AEsthetics at Ascot. + + " " p. 298. _Punch's_ Fancy Portraits. No. 37, + "O. W." + + July 23, p. 26. Swinburne and Water. + + " " p. 29. Maunderings at Marlow. (_By Our + Own AEsthetic Bard._) + + August 20, p. 84. "Croquis" by Dumb-Crambo + Junior. + + " 20, p. 84. Too-Too Awful. _A Sonnet of + Sorrow._ + + September 17, p. 132. Impression De L'Automne. + (_Stanzas by our muchly-admired + Poet, Drawit Milde._) + + October 1, p. 154. The AEsthete to the Rose. (_By + Wildegoose, after Waller._) + + " 29, p. 204. Spectrum Analysis. (_After "The + Burden of Itys," by the Wild-Eyed + Poet._) + + November 12, p. 228. A Sort of "Sortes." + + " 19, p. 237. Poet's Corner; _Or, Nonsense + Rhymes on Well-known Names_. + + " 26, p. 241. The Downfall of the Dado. + + " " p. 242. Theoretikos. By Oscuro Wildegoose. + + December 10, p. 274. "Impressions du Theatre." + + " 17, p. 288. The Two AEsthetic Poets. + + " 24, p. 289. Mr Punch's "Mother Hubbard" + Fairy Tale Grinaway Christmas + Cards.--(Second Series.) + + " 31, p. 309. Mrs Langtry as "Lady Macbeth." + + Almanack for 1882 (Dec. 6, 1881) (p. 5). More Impressions. + (_By Oscuro Wildegoose._) Des + Sornettes. + + +1882 + + January 7, p. 10. "A New Departure." + + " " pp. 10, 11. Clowning and Classicism. + + " " p. 12. In Earnest. + + " 14, p. 14. Oscar Interviewed. + + " " p. 16. AEsthetic Ladies' Hair. + + " " p. 18. Murder Made Easy. _A Ballad a + la Mode. By "Brother Jonathan" + Wilde._ (With Cartoon.) + + " " p. 18. To An AEsthetic Poet. + + " " p. 22. Impression du Theatre. + + February 4, p. 49. Sketches from "Boz." Oscar + Wilde as _Harold Skimpole_. + + " 4, p. 58. A Poet's Day. Ariadne in Naxes; + Or, Very Like a Wail. + + " " p. 49. Distinctly Precious Pantomime. + + " 18, p. 81. Lines by Mrs Cimabue Brown. + + March 11, p. 109. The Poet Wilde's _Unkissed Kisses_. + + " " p. 117. Ossian (with Variations). + + April 1, p. 153. A Philistine to An AEsthete. + + " " p. 156. The Poet Wilde. + + " 8, p. 168. Impression De Gaiety Theatre. + _By Ossian Wilderness._ + + " 22, p. 192. Likely. + + November 4, p. 216. Not Generally Known. + + " 25, p. 249. "What! No Soap!" Or, Pop + Goes The Langtry Bubble. + + +1883 + + March 31, p. 155. To Be Sold. + + " " p. 156. Sage Green. (_By a Fading-out + AEsthete._) + + May 12, pp. 220-1. Our Academy Guide. No. 163.--Private + Frith's View.--Members + of the Salvation Army, led by + General Oscar Wilde, joining in + a hymn. + + September 1, p. 99. "The Play's (not) the Thing." + + November 3, p. 209. Sartorial Sweetness and Light. + + " 10, p. 218. Counter Criticism. + + " 17, p. 231. Cheap Telegrams. + + " " p. 238. Another Invitation to Amerikay. + + " 24, p. 249. "And is this Fame?" + + +1884 + + June 14, p. 288. The Town. II.--Bond Street. + + August 23, p. 96. The Town. No. XI.--"Form." + A Legend of Modern London. + Part I. + + " 30, p. 105. A Legend of Modern London. + Part II. + + +1885 + + May 30, p. 253. Ben Trovato. + + June 27, p. 310. Interiors and Exteriors. No. 13. + At Burlington House. The + "Swarry." + + December 7, Almanack for 1886. The Walnut Season. + "Here Y' ar'. Ten a Penny. + All Cracked." + + +1887 + + December 10, p. 276. Our Booking-Office. _Woman's + World._ + + +1889 + + January 5, p. 12. Our Booking-Office. Article in + _The Fortnightly_. + + July 6, p. 12. Advertisement of _Blackwood's + Magazine_, containing "The + Portrait of Mr W. H." by Oscar + Wilde. + + October 5, p. 160. Appropriate Subject. + + +1890 + + July 19, p. 26. Our Booking-Office. _Dorian Gray._ + + September 20, p. 135. Development. + + Christmas Number. Punch Among the Planets. + + +1891 + + March 14, p. 123. Desdemona to the Author of + "Dorian Gray." (_Apropos of + his paragraphic Preface._) + + " " p. 125. Wilde Flowers. + + May 30, p. 257. Our Booking-Office. _Intentions._ + + +1892 + + + March 5, p. 113. A Wilde "Tag" to a Tame Play. + With Fancy Portrait. "Quite + Too-Too Puffickly Precious." + + March 12, p. 123. Lord Wildermere's Mother-in-Law. + + " " p. 124. Pathetic Description of the + Present State of Mr George + Alexander. + + April 30, p. 215. Staircase Scenes.--No. 1, Private + View, Royal Academy. + + June 25, p. 304. The Playful Sally. + + July 2, p. 315. A Difficulty. + + " 9, p. 1. A Wilde Idea; Or, More Injustice + to Ireland. + + " 16, p. 16. On the Fly-leaf of an Old + Book. + + " 16, p. 23. Racine, With the Chill Off. + + +1893 + + January 19, p. 29. "To Rome for Sixteen Guineas." + + April 22, p. 189. The B. and S. Drama at the + Adelphi. + + " 29, p. 193. Stray Thoughts on Play-Writing. + + " " p. 195. The Premier at the Haymarket + last Wednesday. + + May 6, p. 213. A Work--of Some Importance. + + " 13, p. 221. Wilder Ideas; _Or, Conversation as + she is spoken at the Haymarket_. + + " 27, p. 246. A Wylde Vade Mecum. (_By + Professor H-xl-y_) + + June 3, p. 257. Second Title for the Play at the + Haymarket. + + July 15, p. 13. An Afternoon Party. + + " 15, p. 22. "The Play is Not the Thing." + + " 29, p. 46. At The T. R. H. + + August 26, p. 94. Still Wilder Ideas. (_Possibilities + for the next O. Wilde Play._) + + December 30, pp. 304-5. New Year's Eve at Latterday Hall. + An Incident. Dorian Gray + taking Juliet in to Dinner. + + +1894 + + February 17, p. 73. "Blushing Honours." + + March 10, p. 109. She-Notes. By Borgia Smudgiton. + + July 21, p. 33. The Minx.--A Poem in Prose. + + August 4, p. 60. Our Charity Fete. + + October 13, p. 177. The O.B.C. (Limited). + + " 20, p. 185. The Blue Gardenia. (_A Colourable + Imitation._) + + " 27, p. 204. Morbidezza. + + November 10, p. 225. The Decadent Guys. (_A Colour-Study + in Green Carnations._) + + December 15, p. 287. The Truisms of Life. (Note 12.) + + +1895 + + January 12, p. 24. Overheard Fragment of a Dialogue. + + " 19, p. 29. "To Rome for Sixteen Guineas." + + " " p. 36. "A penny Plain--But Oscar + Coloured." + + February 2, p. 54. A Wilde "Ideal Husband." + + " " p. 60. A God in the Os-Car. + + " 23, p. 85. The O. W. Vade Mecum. + + March 2, p. 106. "The Rivals" at the A.D.C. + + " " p. 107. The Advisability of Not Being + Born in a Handbag. + + " 16, p. 121. The Advantage of Being Consistent. + + April 6, p. 157. April Foolosophy. (_By One of + Them._) + + " 13, p. 171. The Long and Short of It. + + " " p. 177. Concerning a Misused Term; _viz._ + _Art_, as recently applied to a + certain form of Literature. + + +1906 + + January 3, p. 18. Our Booking-Office. (R. H. + Sherard's "_Twenty Years in + Paris_.") + +This list at least spells, and spelt, celebrity and a recognition of the +importance of the AEsthetic movement. + +Especially did the American lecturing tour of Oscar Wilde excite the +comment and ridicule of _Punch_. + +I quote some paragraphs from a pretended despatch from an "American +correspondent." + + A POET'S DAY + + (_From an American Correspondent_) + + OSCAR AT BREAKFAST! OSCAR AT LUNCHEON!! + OSCAR AT DINNER!!! OSCAR AT SUPPER!!!! + + "You see I am, after all, but 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 + + in the evident enjoyment of which, after a brief interchange of + international courtesies, I left the Poet. + +The irresponsible but not ungenial and quite legitimate fun of this is +a fairly representative indication of the way in which the young +"Apostle of Beauty" was thought of in England during his American visit. + +The writer goes on to tell how, later in the day, he once more +encountered the "young patron of Culture." It is astonishing to us now +to realise how even the word "culture" was distorted from its real +meaning and made into the badge of a certain set. At anyrate, Mr Punch's +contributor goes on to say that "Oscar" was found at the business +premises of the + + CO-OPERATIVE DRESS ASSOCIATION. + + On this occasion the Poet, by special request, appeared in the + uniform of an English Officer of the Dragoon Guards, the dress, I + understand, being supplied for the occasion from the elegant + wardrobe of Mr D'OYLEY CARTE'S "Patience" Company. + + Several ladies expressed their disappointment at the "insufficient + leanness" of the Poet's figure, whereupon his Business Manager + explained that he belonged to the fleshy school. + + To accommodate Mr WILDE, the ordinary lay-figures were removed from + the showroom, and, after a sumptuous luncheon, to which the _elite_ + of Miss ----'s customers were invited, the distinguished guest + posed with his fair hostess in an allegorical tableau, representing + _English Poetry extending the right hand to American Commerce_. + + "This is indeed Fair Trade," remarked Mr Wilde lightly, and + immediately improvised a testimonial advertisement (in verse) in + praise of Miss ----'s patent dress-improver. + + At a dinner given by "JEMMY" CROWDER (as we familiarly call him), + the Apologist of Art had discarded his military garb for the + ordinary dress of an + + ENGLISH GENTLEMAN + + in which his now world-famed knee-breeches form a conspicuous item, + suggesting indeed the Admiral's uniform in Mr D'OYLEY CARTE'S + "Pinafore" combination. + + "I think," said the Poet, in a pause between courses, "one cannot + dine too well"--placing everyone at his ease by his admirable tact + in partaking of the thirty-six items of the _menu_. + +The skit continues wittily enough, but it is not necessary to quote more +of it. The paragraphs sufficiently explain the attitude of Mr Punch, +which was the general attitude at the time. + +It was hammered in persistently. "Oscar Interviewed" appeared under the +date of January 1882, and again, in the following extracts the reader +will recognise the same note. + + "DETERMINED to anticipate the rabble of penny-a-liners ready to + pounce upon any distinguished foreigner who approaches our shores, + and eager to assist a sensitive Poet in avoiding the impertinent + curiosity and ill-bred insolence of the Professional Reporter, I + took the fastest pilot-boat on the station, and boarded the + splendid Cunard steamer, the _Boshnia_, in the shucking of a + peanut." + + HIS AESTHETIC APPEARANCE + + He stood, with his large hand passed through his long hair, against + a high chimney-piece--which had been painted pea-green, with panels + of peacock-blue pottery let in at uneven intervals--one elbow on + the high ledge, the other hand on his hip. He was dressed in a + long, snuff-coloured, single-breasted coat, which reached to his + heels, and was relieved with a sealskin collar and cuffs rather the + worse for wear. Frayed linen, and an orange silk handkerchief, gave + a note to the generally artistic colouring of the _ensemble_, while + one small daisy drooped despondently in his buttonhole.... We may + state that the chimney-piece, as well as the sealskin collar, is + the property of OSCAR, and will appear in his Lectures "on the + Growth of Artistic Taste in England." + + HE SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF + + "Yes; I should have been astonished had I not been interviewed! + Indeed, I have not been well on board this Cunard _Argosy_. I have + wrestled with the glaukous-haired Poseidon, and feared his + ravishment. Quite: I have been too ill, too utterly ill. + Exactly--seasick in fact, if I must descend to so trivial an + expression. I fear the clean beauty of my strong limbs is somewhat + waned. I am scarcely myself--my nerves are thrilling like throbbing + violins--in exquisite pulsation. + + "You are right. I believe I was the first to devote my subtle + brain-chords to the worship of the Sunflower, and the apotheosis of + the delicate Tea-pot. I have ever been jasmine-cradled from my + youth. Eons ago, I might say centuries, in '78, when a student at + Oxford, I had trampled the vintage of my babyhood, and trod the + thorn-spread heights of Poesy. I had stood in the Arena and torn + the bays from the expiring athletes, my competitors." + + * * * * * + + LECTURE PROSPECTS + + "Yes; I expect my Lecture will be a success. So does DOLLAR + CARTE--I mean D'OYLEY CARTE. Too-Toothless Senility may jeer, and + poor, positive Propriety may shake her rusty curls; but I am here + in my creamy lustihood, to pipe of Passion's venturous Poesy, and + reap the scorching harvest of Self-Love! I am not quite sure what + I mean. The true Poet never is. In fact, true Poetry is nothing if + it is intelligible. She is only to be compared to SALMACIS, who is + not a boy or girl, but yet is both." + +And so forth, and so forth. + +About the conversation and superficial manner of Oscar Wilde there must +have been something strangely according to formula. Among intimate +friends, friends who were sympathetic to his real ideals, his talk was +wonderful. That fact is vouched for in a hundred quarters, it is not to +be denied. + +As I write I have dozens of undeniable testimonies to the fact, I myself +can bear witness to it on at least one occasion. But when Wilde was not +with people for whose opinion of him he cared much--really cared--his +odd perversity of phrase, his persistent wish to astonish the fools, his +extraordinary carelessness of average opinion often compelled him to +talk the most frantic nonsense which was only redeemed from mere +childish inversion of phrase by the air and manner with which it was +said, and the merest tinsel pretence of wit. The wittiest talker of his +generation, certainly the wittiest writer, gave the very worst of his +wit to the pressmen who pestered him but who, and this was the thing he +was unable to appreciate at its true value, represented him to the world +during this "first period." + +The mock interviews in _Punch_ which have been quoted from are really no +very wide departures from the real thing. A year or two after the +AEsthetic movement was not so prominent in the public eye as was the +success of Wilde as a writer of plays, an actual interview with him +appeared in a well-known weekly paper in which he talked not much less +extravagantly than he was caricatured as talking in _Punch_. A play of +his had been produced and, while it was a complete and satisfying +success, it had been assailed in that unfortunately hostile way by the +critics to which he was accustomed. + +He was asked what he thought about the attitude of the critics towards +his play. + +"For a man to be a dramatic critic," he is said to have replied, "is as +foolish and inartistic as it would be for a man to be a critic of epics, +or a pastoral critic, or a critic of lyrics. All modes of art are one, +and the modes of the art that employs words as its medium are quite +indivisible. The result of the vulgar specialisation of criticism is an +elaborate scientific knowledge of the stage--almost as elaborate as that +of the stage-carpenter, and quite on a par with that of the +call-boy--combined with an entire incapacity to realise that a play is a +work of art, or to receive any artistic impressions at all." + +He was told that he was rather severe upon the dramatic critics. + +"English dramatic criticism of our own day has never had a single +success, in spite of the fact that it goes to all the first nights," was +his reply. + +Thereupon the interviewer suggested that dramatic criticism was at least +influential. + +"Certainly; that is why it is so bad," he replied, and went on to say: + +"The moment criticism exercises any influence it ceases to be criticism. +The aim of the true critic is to try and chronicle his own moods, not to +try and correct the masterpieces of others." + +"Real critics would be charming in your eyes, then?" + +"Real critics? Ah, how perfectly charming they would be! I am always +waiting for their arrival. An inaudible school would be nice. Why do you +not found it?" + +Oscar Wilde was asked if there were, then, absolutely no critics in +London. + +"There are just two," he answered, but refused to give their names. The +interviewer goes on to recount his exact words: + +"Mr Wilde, with the elaborate courtesy for which he has always been +famous, replied, 'I think I had better not mention their names; it might +make the others so jealous.' + +"'What do the literary cliques think of your plays?' + +"'I don't write to please cliques; I write to please myself. Besides, I +have always had grave suspicions that the basis of all literary cliques +is a morbid love of meat-teas. That makes them sadly uncivilised.' + +"'Still, if your critics offend you, why don't you reply to them?' + +"'I have far too much time. But I think some day I will give a general +answer, in the form of a lecture, in a public hall, which I shall call +"Straight Talks to Old Men."' + +"'What is your feeling towards your audiences--towards the public?' + +"'Which public? There are as many publics as there are personalities.' + +"'Are you nervous on the night that you are producing a new play?' + +"'Oh no, I am exquisitely indifferent. My nervousness ends at the last +dress rehearsal; I know then what effect my play, as presented upon the +stage, has produced upon me. My interest in the play ends there, and I +feel curiously envious of the public--they have such wonderful fresh +emotions in store for them.' + +"I laughed, but Mr Wilde rebuked me with a look of surprise. + +"'It is the public, not the play, that I desire to make a success,' he +said. + +"'But I'm afraid I don't quite understand----' + +"'The public makes a success when it realises that a play is a work of +art. On the three first nights I have had in London the public has been +most successful, and had the dimensions of the stage admitted of it, I +would have called them before the curtain. Most managers, I believe, +call them behind.'" + +There are pages more of this sort of thing, and the earlier and +pretended interview in _Punch_ differs a little in period but very +little in manner from this real interview. + +_Punch_ continued its gibes during the whole time of the first period. +Really witty parodies of Oscar Wilde's poems and plays appeared from +time to time. Pictures of him were drawn in caricature by well-known +artists. It was the same in almost every society. The band of +enthusiasts listened to the message, but gave more prominence to the +poses and extravagances which accompanied it. The message was obscured +and it was the fault of Oscar Wilde's eccentricity. + +We are reaping the benefit of it all now, at present I am merely the +chronicler of opinion when the movement was in what the unobservant +thought was its heyday, but which has proved to be its infancy. + +The chorus of dislike and mistrust was almost universal. At Oxford +itself, popularly supposed to be a stronghold of aestheticism at the +time, a debate on the question took place at the Union. A very +prominent undergraduate of the day, Mr J. A. Simon, of Wadham College, +reflected the bulk of Oxford opinion when he spoke as follows:-- + + "Mr J. A. Simon (Wadham) said he felt nervous, for it was an + extraordinary occasion for him to be on the side that would gain a + majority. He did not consider that the motion had at all the + meaning the mover gave it. He quite agreed with him as to the + advances made in the illustrated press, and other things, and that + many of these selected changes were good. The motion, however, + evidently referred to the movement headed by Oscar Wilde, and + represented by such things as the 'Yellow Book,' etc. He always + thought that the mover was most natural when he was on the stage + (applause) and they had all been given pleasure by his + impersonations (applause). He believed, though, that he had been + acting that night, and the speaker quoted from the speeches of + Bassanio passages which he considered described the way the mover + had led them off the scent. He intended to discuss the matter + seriously. As a book entitled 'Degeneracy' pointed out, the new + movement was the outcome of a craving for novelty, and the + absurdities in connection with it would do credit to a madhouse. + People were eccentric in the hope that they would be taken to be + original (applause). It was not a development at all; it was but a + jerk or twitching, the work of a moment. Oscar Wilde had actually + signed his name to a most awful pun, as those who had seen 'The + Importance Of Being Earnest' would understand. The writer's many + epigrams were doubtless clever, for next to pretending to be drunk, + pretending to be mad was the most difficult (applause). The process + was to turn a proverb upside down, and there was the epigram. Then + Aubrey Beardsley's figures, if they showed anything, showed + extraordinary development; they certainly were not delicate; in + fact, he should call them distinctly indelicate. For one thing, + such creatures never existed, and it was a species of art that was + absolutely imbecile. Oscar Wilde, though, had said that until we + see things as they are not we never really live. But all he could + say was that he hoped he should never live (applause). It was + really not art at all, for art was nearly allied to nature, + although Oscar Wilde said that the only connecting link was a + really well-made buttonhole. That sort of thing was the art of + being brilliantly absurd (applause). It was insignificant to lay + claim to manners on the ground of personal appearance; such were + not manners but mannerisms. Aubrey Beardsley's figures were but a + mannerism of this sort (applause). A development must be new and + permanent, and the pictures referred to were not new, for similar + ones could be found on the old Egyptian monuments (applause). This + cult were not even original individually, for where one led all the + rest followed. Oscar Wilde talked about a purple sin: the others + did the same. By-the-by, that remark was not original, for scarlet + sins had been mentioned in very early days; it was indeed all of it + but a resuscitation of what was old and had been long left behind + by the rest of the world (applause). The movement was not + permanent, as might be seen by the aesthetic craze of fifteen years + ago. Velvet coats and peacock feathers were dying out, and soon it + would not be correct to wear the hair long (laughter). It was but a + phase; if everyone were to talk in epigrams it would be + distinguished to talk sense. He was in a difficulty, for if he got + a large majority against the motion, to be in a minority was just + what would please the aesthetes most. Therefore, let as few vote + against as possible (laughter). To be serious, he considered that + true art should give pleasure and comfort to people who were in + trouble or down in the world, and who, he asked, would be helped by + the art of either Aubrey Beardsley or Oscar Wilde? (applause). In + conclusion, he would ask the House to give the movers the + satisfaction of having as few as possible voting for them + (applause)." + + "_Ars longa est!_ All know what once that meant; + But cranks corrupt so sickeningly have shindied + About _their_ ART of late, 'tis evident + The rendering now must be, 'Art is long-winded!' + For _Vita brevis_,--all true men must hope, + Brief life for such base Art--and a short rope!" + +said a popular rhyme of the time. It sums up average opinion and may +fittingly close this summary of it during the "AEsthetic" period. + +We are forced to admit that the general misunderstanding was partially +due to the fashion in which the new doctrines were presented. The thing +was well worth saying, but it was not said seriously enough. It was a +lamentable mistake, but it helps us to understand a certain aspect of +Oscar Wilde: the man. + + +THE SECOND PERIOD + +At the time in which what I have called the "second period" may be said +to have begun, Wilde was emerging from the somewhat obscuring influences +of the AEsthetic movement and was in a state of transition. + +He was then editing a magazine known as _The Woman's World_, and doing +his work with a conscientiousness and sense of responsibility which +shows us another side of him and one which, to the sane, if limited, +English temperament is a singularly pleasant one. He had moaned, money +must be earned, and he earned it faithfully under a discipline. It is a +speculation not without interest when we wonder to what heights such a +man might not have risen if a discipline such as this had been more +continuous. + +"Lord of himself, that heritage of woe," sang Lord Byron, well aware +from personal experience of the constant dangers, the almost certain +shipwreck that the life of perfect freedom has for such as he was, and +for such a temperament as Wilde's also. + +Oscar was living in a beautiful house at Chelsea, and it is a remarkable +instance of how surely the first period had merged into the second when +we find that the decorations of his home were beautiful indeed, but not +much like those he had preached about and insisted on in his aesthetic +lectures and writings. + +There was an utter lack of so-called aesthetic colouring in the house +where Mr and Mrs Wilde had made their home. The scheme consisted, +indeed, of faded and delicate brocades, against a background of white or +cream painting, and was French rather than English. + +Rare engravings and etchings formed a deep frieze along two sides of the +drawing-room, and stood out on a dull-gold background, while the only +touches of bright colour in the apartment were lent by two splendid +Japanese feathers let into the ceiling, while, above the white, carved +mantelpiece, a gilt-copper bas-relief, by Donaghue, made living Oscar +Wilde's fine verses, "Requiescat." + +Not the least interesting work of art in this characteristic +sitting-room was a quaint harmony in greys and browns, purporting to be +a portrait of the master of the house as a youth; a painting which was a +wedding present from Mr Harper Pennington, the American artist. + +The house could boast of an exceptionally choice gallery of contemporary +art. Close to a number of studies of Venice, presented by Mr Whistler +himself, hung an exquisite pen-and-ink illustration by Walter Crane. An +etching of Bastien Le Page's portrait of Sarah Bernhardt contained in +the margin a few kindly words written in English by the great +tragedienne. + +Mrs Oscar Wilde herself had strong ideas upon house decoration. She once +told an inquirer that "no one who has not tried them knows the value of +uniform tints and a quiet scheme of colouring. One of the most effective +effects in house decoration can be obtained by having, say, the +sitting-room pure cream or white, with, perhaps, a dado of six or seven +feet from the ground. In an apartment of this kind, ample colouring and +variety will be introduced by the furniture, engravings, and carpet; in +fact, but for the trouble of keeping white walls in London clean, I do +not think there can be anything prettier and more practical than this +mode of decoration, for it is both uncommon and easy to carry out. I am +not one of those," continued Mrs Wilde, "who believe that beauty can +only be achieved at considerable cost. A cottage parlour may be, and +often is, more beautiful, with its unconsciously achieved harmonies and +soft colouring, than a great reception-room, arranged more with a view +to producing a magnificent effect. But I repeat, of late, people, in +their wish to decorate their homes, have blended various periods, +colourings and designs, each perhaps beautiful in itself, but producing +an unfortunate effect when placed in juxtaposition. I object also to +historic schemes of decoration, which nearly always make one think of +the upholsterer, and not of the owner of the house." + +In conjunction with her husband, Mrs Wilde had also thought out the +right place of flowers in the decoration of a house. She would say: "It +is impossible to have too many flowers in a room, and I think that +scattering cut blossoms on a tablecloth is both a foolish and a cruel +custom, for long before dinner is over the poor things begin to look +painfully parched and thirsty for want of water. A few delicate flowers +in plain glass vases produce a prettier effect than a great number of +nosegays, and yet, even though people may see that something is wrong, +many do not realise how easily a charming effect might be produced with +the same materials somewhat differently disposed. + +"A Japanese native room, for example, is furnished with dainty +simplicity, and one flower and one pot supply the Jap's aesthetic longing +for decoration. When he gets tired of his flower and his pot, he puts +them away, and seeks for some other scheme of colour produced by equally +simple means." + +Oscar Wilde now began to take a definite place in the English social +world. His wit, his brilliance of conversation, his singular charm of +manner all combined to render him a welcome guest, and in many cases a +valued friend, in circles where distinction of intellect and charm of +personality are the only passports. He began to make money and to +indulge a natural taste for profusion and splendour. Yet, let it be said +here, and said with emphasis, that greatly as he desired, and acquired, +the elegances of life, increasing fortune found him as kind and generous +as before. It is a known fact that he gave away large sums of money to +those less fortunate in the effort to make an income by artistic +pursuits. His purse was always open to the struggling and the unhappy +and his influence constantly exerted on their behalf. + +Suddenly all London was captured by the brilliant modern comedies he +began to write. Success of the completest kind had arrived, the poet's +name was in everyone's mouth. Curiously enough it is the French students +of Wilde's career who have paid the most attention to Wilde in this +second period. The man of society, the witty talker, the maker of +epigrams--Wilde at his apogee just before his fall--this is the picture +on which the Latin psychologists have liked to dwell. + + "In our days, the master of repartee and the after-dinner speaker + is foredoomed to forgetfulness, for he always stands alone, and to + gain applause has to talk down to and flatter lower-class + audiences. No writer of blood-curdling melodramas, no weaver of + newspaper novels is obliged to lower his talent so much as the + professional wit. If the genius of Mallarme was obscured by the + flatterers that surrounded him, how much more was Wilde's talent + overclouded by the would-be-witty, shoddy-elegant, and + cheaply-poetical society hangers-on, who covered him with incense. + We are told that the first attempts of the sparkling talker were by + no means successful in the Parisian salons. + + "In the house of Victor Hugo, seeing he must wait to let the + veteran sleep out his nap whilst others among the guests slumbered + also, he made up his mind to astonish them. He succeeded, but at + what a cost! Although he was a verse writer, most sincerely devoted + to poetry and art, and one of the most emotional and sensitive and + tender-hearted amongst modern wielders of the pen, he succeeded in + gaining only a reputation for artificiality. + + "We all know his studied paradoxes, his five or six continually + repeated tales, but we are tempted to forget the charming dreamer + who was full of tenderness for everything in nature." + +Thus M. Charles Grolleau, and there is much in his point of view. The +writer of "The Happy Prince" and "The House of Pomegranates" is a +different person from the paradoxical _causeur_ who went cometlike +through a few London and Paris seasons before disappearing into the +darkness of space. + +And it was the encouragement and applause bestowed upon Oscar Wilde +during the second period that not only confirmed him in his +determination to live as the complete _flaneur_, but which prevented +even sympathetic critics from appreciating his work at its true worth. + +The late M. Hugues Rebell, who knew him fairly intimately, said of him: + + "It is true that Mallarme has not written much, but all he has done + is valuable. Some of his verses are most beautiful, whilst Wilde + seemed never to finish anything. The works of the English aesthete + are very interesting, because they characterise his epoch; his + pages are useful from a documentary point of view, but are not + extraordinary from a literary standpoint. In the 'Duchess of + Padua,' he imitates Hugo and Sardou; the 'Picture of Dorian Gray' + was inspired by Huysmans; 'Intentions' is a _vade mecum_ of + symbolism, and all the ideas contained therein are to be found in + Mallarme and Villiers de l'Isle-Adam. As for Wilde's poetry, it + closely follows the lines laid down by Swinburne. His most original + composition is 'Poems in Prose.' They give a correct idea of his + home-chat, but not when he was at his best; that, no doubt, is + because the art of talking must always be inferior to any form of + literary composition. Thoughts properly set forth in print after + due correction must always be more charming than a finely sketched + idea hurriedly enunciated when conversing with a few disciples. In + ordinary table-talk we meet nothing more than ghosts of new-born + ideas foredoomed to perish. The jokes of a wit seldom survive the + speaker. When we quote the epigrams of Wilde, it is as if we were + exhibiting in a glass case a collection of beautiful butterflies, + whose wings have lost the brilliancy of their once gaudy colours. + Lively talk pleases, because of the man who utters it, and we are + impressed also by the gestures which accompany his frothy + discourse. What remains of the sprightly quips and anecdotes of + such celebrated _hommes d'esprit_ as Scholl, Becque, Barbey + d'Aurevilly! Some stories of the eighteenth century have been + transmitted to us by Chamfort, but only because he carefully + remodelled them by the aid of his clever pen." + +Yet during all the time of his success, when he was receiving flattery +enough, celebrity enough, money enough to turn the head of a far +stronger-willed man than he was, there is abundant evidence of a +frequent aspiration after better things. Serene and lofty moods came to +him now and again and found utterance in his words or writings. + +From the very beginning of his career he had been in the public eye. Now +he had, it seemed, come into his own. The years of ridicule and +misrepresentation, the years of the first period, were over and done +with. A real and solid popularity seemed to be his. Yet, just as he had +spoilt and obscured his aesthetic message by those eccentricities which +the Anglo-Saxon mind will not permit in anyone who comes professing to +teach it, so now Oscar Wilde was to spoil the triumphs of the second +period by a mental intoxication that led him step by step to ultimate +ruin and disgrace. + +At this moment let us sum up the results at which we have arrived in the +study of this complex character. We are all of us complex, but Wilde was +more strangely compounded than the ordinary man in exact proportion as +his intelligence was greater and his power beyond the general measure. +This much and no more. + +We have seen that the great fault of Wilde's career up to this period +was that of an unconquerable egoism. He was complex only because such +mighty gifts as those with which he was dowered were united to a +temperament naturally gracious, kindly, and that of a gentleman in the +best sense of the word, while both were obscured by a self-appreciation +and confidence which reached not only the heights of absurdity but +surely impinged upon the borders of mental failure. As he himself said +over and over again after his downfall, he had nobody but himself to +blame for it. Generous-hearted, free with all material things, kind to +the unfortunate, gentle to the weak--Oscar Wilde was all these things. +Yet, at the same time, he committed the most dreadful crimes against the +social well-being; without a thought of those his influence led into +terrible paths, without a thought of those nearest and dearest to him, +he deliberately imposed upon them a horror and a shame with an +extraordinary and almost unparalleled callousness and hardness of heart. + +Bound up in the one man were the twin natures of an angel of light and +an angel of dark. It is the same with all men, but never perhaps in the +history of the world, certainly never in the history of literature, is +there to be found a contrast so astonishing. It is not for the writer +of this study to hold the balance and to say which part of his nature +predominated. Opinion about him is still divided into two camps, and +this book is a statement from which everyone can draw his own +conclusion, and does not attempt to do more than provide the materials +for doing so. Yet, the explanation of it all, if explanation there is, +seems simple enough. There was an extraordinary and abnormal divorce +between will-power and intelligence. Heavy indulgence grew and grew and +gradually obscured the finer nature until he imagined his will was +supreme and his wishes the only law. The royal intellect dominated the +soul and grew by what it fed on, until it unseated the reason, and Wilde +fell never to rise again, except only in his work. + +At the end of the second period came the frightful exposure and scandals +which sent the author into prison. It is no part of this book to touch +upon these scandals or to do more than breathe the kindly hope that +Wilde was unconscious of what he did, and was totally incapable of +realising its enormity. + +The third period, in this attempt at chronicling the various phases of +his life and temperament, might be said to have begun on the day of his +arrest, when his long agony and punishment were to begin. Greatly as he +deserved a heavy punishment, not so much as for what he did to himself +but because of the corrupting influence his life and association with +others had upon a large section of society, it is yet a moot point +whether he did not suffer for others and was made their scapegoat. The +true history of this terrible period cannot be written and never will be +written. Yet, those who know it in its entirety will say that Wilde bore +the penalty for the transgressions of many other people in addition to +the just punishment he received for his own. + +Few nobler things can be said of any man than this. Let it be eternally +placed to his credit that he made no endeavour to lighten his own +punishment by implicating others. In more than one instance the betrayal +of a friend would undoubtedly have lessened the cumulative burden of the +indictment brought against him. He betrayed none of his friends. + + +THE THIRD PERIOD + +This beautiful thread of brightness in the dark warp and woof of Wilde's +life at this moment must not be forgotten by those who would estimate +his character. It is one of the few relieving lights in the blackness +with which the third period opens. And yet, there is still something +that can be said for Wilde at this time which certainly provides the +student with another aspect of him. It is the way in which he met his +fate and was prepared to endure his punishment, although it would have +been simple for him to have avoided it. To avoid the consequences of +what he had done, inasmuch as the ruin of his career is concerned, was, +of course, impossible. That, indeed, was to be the heaviest part of his +penalty. Yet, had he so chosen, imprisonment and the frightful agony of +the two years need never have been his portion. A French critic writing +of him in the _Mercure de France_ takes an analytical view of this fact, +which I do not think is the true one, though, nevertheless, it is +interesting. He says: "Neither his own heedlessness nor the envious and +hypocritical anger of his enemies, nor the snobbish cruelty of social +reprobation were the true cause of his misfortunes. It was he himself +who, after a time of horrible anguish, consented to his punishment, with +a sort of supercilious disdain for the weakness of human will, and out +of a certain regard and unhealthy curiosity for the sportfulness of +fate. Here was a voluptuary seeking for torture and desiring pain after +having wallowed in every sensual pleasure. Can such conduct have been +due to aught else but sheer madness?" + +That is all very well, but it does not bear the stamp of truth. It is +an interesting point of view and nothing more. The conduct of Wilde when +he at last came athwart the horror of his destiny, when he realised what +all the world realised, that he must answer for his sins before the +public justice of England, was not unheroic, nor without a fine and +splendid dignity. At this time I would much prefer to say, and all the +experiences of those around him confirm it, that Wilde knew that it was +his duty to himself to endure what society was about to mete out to him. +To say that he was a mere gloomy and jaded voluptuary who wished to +taste the pleasures of the most horrible and sordid pain, is surely to +talk something perilously like nonsense, though full of one of those +minute psychological presumptions so dear to a certain type of Latin +mind. + +Let it be remembered that Oscar Wilde refused to betray his friends, and +in the light of that fact, let us see whether his motive for remaining +in England to "face the music," as his brother, William Wilde, expressed +it, was not something high and worthy in the midst of this hideous wreck +and bankruptcy of his fortune. A friend who was with him then, his +biographer, and a man of position in English letters, said that when the +subject of flight was discussed, he declared to Wilde that, in his +opinion, it was the best thing he could do, not only in his own +interests but in those of the public too. This self-sacrificing friend +offered to take all the responsibility of the flight upon his own +shoulders and to make all the arrangements for it being carried out. + +It must be remembered that, at the time Wilde was out on bail, and it +has since been proved, with as much certainty as anything of the sort +can be proved, that he was not watched by the police, and that even +between the periods of his first and second trials, if he had secretly +left the country and sought a safe asylum on the Continent, everybody +would have felt relieved and the public would have been spared a +repetition of the horrors which had already filled the pages of the +newspapers to repletion. After the collapse of the action Oscar Wilde +brought against Lord Queensberry, he was allowed several hours before +the warrant for his arrest was executed in order that he might leave the +country. "But imitative of great men in their whims and fancies, he +refused to imitate the base in acts which he deemed cowardly. I do not +think he ever seriously considered the question of leaving the country, +and this, in spite of the fact that the gentleman who was responsible +for almost the whole of the bail, had said, 'it will practically ruin me +if I lose all that money at the present moment, but if there is a +chance, even after conviction, in God's name let him go.'" + +Whatever Wilde's motive was for staying to "face the music," we cannot +deny that it was fine. Either he felt that he must endure the punishment +society was to give him because he had outraged the law of society, or +else he was unwilling to ruin the disinterested and noble-minded man--a +gentleman who had only the slightest acquaintance with him--who had +furnished the amount of his bail. + +Let these facts be written to his credit and considered when the readers +of this memoir pass their judgment upon his character. + +At the beginning of this third period public opinion which, but a short +time ago, had simply meant a chorus of public adulation, except for a +minority of people who either envied his successes or honestly +reprobated his attitude towards art and life, was now terribly bitter, +venomous, and full of spleen and hatred. + +Society, however much society was disposed to deny the fact, had set up +an idol in their midst. It was partly owing to the senseless and +indiscriminate adulation of its idol that its foundations were +undermined and that it fell with so resonant a crash. When it was down +society assailed it with every ingenuity of reprobation and hatred that +it knew how to voice and use. + +Nothing was too bad to be said about the erstwhile favourite who, let it +be remembered, was not yet adjudged guilty but who, if ever a man was, +was denied the application of the prime principle of English criminal +law, which says that every man accused is to be deemed innocent until +guilt has been proved against him. People gloated over the downfall. + +When Wilde was first arrested and placed in Holloway, and before he was +admitted to bail, the more scurrilous portion of the press was full of +sickening pictures, both in line and words, of the fallen creature's +agony. + +Contrasts were drawn by little pens dipped in venom, and the writer of +this memoir has in his possession a curious and saddening collection of +the screeds of those days, a collection which shows how innate the +principle of cruelty is still in the human mind despite centuries of +civilisation and the influence of the Cross, which forbids gladiators to +slay each other in the arena but allows a more subtle and terrible form +of savage sport than anything that Nero or Caligula ever saw or +promulgated. + +It is unnecessary to quote largely from the productions which disgraced +the English press at this time. One single article will serve to prove +the point. Let those who read it learn tolerance from this mock sympathy +and cruel dwelling upon the tortures of one so recently high in public +popularity and esteem, still presumably innocent by English law, and yet +placed under the vulgar microscope of the morbid-minded and the lovers +of sensation at any cost. + + "Figuratively speaking but yesterday Oscar Wilde was the man of the + hour, and to him, and him alone, we looked for our wit, our + epigrams, and our learned and interesting plays. But what a change! + To-day, Oscar Wilde, the wit, the epicure, is gone from his world, + and is languishing in a dreary cell in Holloway Prison. In short, + Mr Wilde, in a moment of weak-headedness, walked over the side of + the mountain of fame and fell headlong from its height to the + morass below, to lie there forgotten, neglected and abused. + + "Yes, although I have little or no sympathy with Oscar Wilde I + cannot but help feeling for him in his altered circumstances. He is + a man who from his very infancy has been nursed in the lap of + luxury, and has systematically lived on the fat of the land. Mr + Wilde's residence in Tite Street was elegantly and luxuriously + furnished. His rooms at the Cadogan Hotel were all that comfort + could desire. His room, or rather cell, in Holloway Prison is + altogether undesirable, is badly furnished, ill-lighted, and + uncomfortable. Picture to yourself this change--yes, a change + effected within twenty-four hours--and then you can imagine what + the mental and physical sufferings of a man of the Oscar Wilde + temperament must be. It is in this sense alone that my sympathy + goes out towards him, and I feel as a man for another man who has + been suddenly snatched from the lap of indolent, free livelihood + and suddenly pitched foremost into the icelike crevasse of a + British prison cell. + + "I will now describe in as few words as I possibly can, but with + absolute accuracy and detail, the cell in which Mr Wilde spends his + time and the manner in which he lives. The cell in which Oscar is + incarcerated is not an ordinary one--that is, it is not one that is + used by any condemned or ordinary prisoner under remand. The cell + is known in prison _parlance_ as a 'special cell,' for the use of + which a fee is payable to the authorities, and is the same one as + was occupied by a certain well-known Duchess some few months back + when she was committed by the Queen's Bench Judges for contempt of + court. The prison authorities only supply the 'cell,' the prisoner + himself has to find his own furniture, which he usually hires, by + the advice of one of the warders, from a local firm who have a + suite they keep for the use of this 'special cell' in Holloway. + When Mr Wilde arrived at the prison last Saturday week afternoon + this 'cell' was vacant. He promptly gave orders for the furniture + to be brought in, and in an incredibly short space of time the cell + was furnished, and the distinguished prisoner took possession of + his apartment. I will first describe the room, and then take one + typical day in the prison routine, which will clearly show the + kind of life that Mr Wilde is compelled to live. + + "Now to the cell. The room is situated at the far end of the east + wing of the prison, and is entered from the long passage which runs + from the head warder's rooms past the convict cells, and terminates + at the door which protects Oscar from the common herd, and helps to + make him secure. The door is an ordinary prison cell door, + possessing spyholes and flaptrap, and large iron bars and locks. + The cell itself is about 10 ft. broad, 12 ft. long, and 11 ft. + high. The walls are not papered but whitewashed, and the light by + which the room is supplied is obtained through an iron-barred + window in the wall placed high up and well out of the prisoner's + reach. A small fireplace is also fixed securely at the end of the + room, but it is seldom lit, as the room is well heated by hot-water + pipes. Now to the furniture in the room. Just on the right-hand + side of the window is placed a table made of hard, white wood. No + cloth covers it, but at the back is placed a looking-glass, whilst + on the table itself is a water jug and a Bible. Near the table and + almost under the window is an arm-chair, in which Oscar spends most + of his time. But more of this anon. In the corner near the + fireplace is placed a small camp bedstead, which is so small that + it seems almost an impossibility that so massive a form as that of + Oscar could recline with any ease upon so small a space. No feather + bed is upon the iron supports, and the sleeper is compelled to + repose upon hard--probably too hard--mattresses. The bed is + supplied with sheets, blankets, and a cover quilt, made up of + patches of all colours of the rainbow. This quilt is not pretty, + and most considerably upsets the artistic being of a man like + Wilde. A small table on the other side of the room, another chair, + and a small metal washing stand, go to make up all the furniture + the room possesses. No carpet is on the floor, but the boards are + kept scrupulously clean. This I think briefly comprises a + description of Mr Wilde's residential and sleeping compartment. Now + to his daily routine and the life he is compelled to lead. He is + awakened by a warder at six o'clock, and whether he likes it or + not, is compelled to get up. After washing himself in cold + water--hot is not permitted--and using ordinary common soap, Mr + Wilde dresses himself, and to do him justice, he turns himself out + very neat and span considering he has no valet to wait upon him. At + seven o'clock one of the convicted prisoners enters Mr Wilde's + cell, cleans up the room, makes the bed, and generally tidies up + the place. For this service the prisoner receives 1s. per week, and + it usually takes him quite half-an-hour per day to get through his + work. Truly a munificent remuneration, but then prison + regulations, whenever reasonable, are on the side of liberality. At + half-past seven o'clock Wilde's breakfast, usually consisting of + tea, ham and eggs, or a chop, toast and bread and butter, arrives + from a well-known restaurant in Holloway. Of course Mr Wilde pays + for the food, and, within reason, can eat and drink what he + pleases. + + "At nine o'clock Mr Wilde is compelled to leave his cell, and + proceed to the exercising yard of the prison, and for one hour he + is compelled to walk at regulation pace round a kind of tower + erected in the centre of the yard. After exercise the distinguished + prisoner returns to his cell, and the daily newspapers are brought + to him, for which he also pays. Mr Wilde sits during the time he is + in his cell in the chair by the window, and then reads his papers. + He, however, has moments of very low-spiritedness, and becomes + almost despondent in the moods. The sketch in this issue represents + him seated in his favourite chair, with a paper in his hand, and, + after an interview with his solicitor, Mr Wilde is very fond, when + his active brain is working too deeply, to push back his hair from + off his forehead and then leave the hand on the head, and, as if + staring into vacancy, sit for hours in this position thinking + deeply. But, to continue, at twelve o'clock Mr Wilde's lunch + arrives from the restaurant, for which he pays. It consists of a + cut off the joint, vegetables, cheese, and biscuits and water, or + one glass of wine. After lunch he is again taken to the exercise + ground for an hour, and then sent back to his cell. Still seated in + his chair, he still reads his papers, and thinks out improbable + problems. Sometimes one of his friends comes to see him. On these + occasions he brightens up, but after the visits of his solicitor he + is visibly very low-spirited and morose. At six o'clock Mr Wilde's + dinner--for which he pays--arrives. It consists usually of soup, + fish, joint, or game, cheese, and half-a-pint of any wine he + chooses to select. The dinner finished, Mr Wilde sits again in his + chair, and the agony he endures at not being allowed even a whiff + at his favourite cigarette must to him be agony indeed. At eight + o'clock a warder enters his room and places a lamp on the table to + light the room. At nine o'clock the same warder again enters the + room and gives Oscar five minutes to undress himself and get into + bed. He complies willingly but with a sigh. When he is safely in + bed the warder removes the lamp, bolts and locks the door, and + leaves Oscar to sleep or remain awake thinking, just as he pleases. + Oscar, however, does not sleep much. He is out of bed most of the + night, and in unstockinged feet paces the room in apparently not + too good a mood. Yes, poor Oscar, I do pity you." + +So much for popular kindness! + +The trial, at which the accused man was admitted by everyone to have +comported himself with a dignity and resignation that had nothing of +that levity and occasional pose which must be allowed to have +characterised his attitude during the two former ordeals, came to a +close. Wilde was sentenced to prison for two years' hard labour. + +During the trial, of course, no comment was permissible, though there +were not wanting some papers who committed contempt of court. When, +however, the sentence had been pronounced and Wilde as a man with a +place in society--I am using the word society here not in its limited +but its economic sense--had ceased to exist, then the thunders of the +important and influential journals were let loose. + +_The Daily Telegraph_ which, to do it justice, had never been +sympathetic to Wilde in his days of prosperity and fame, came out with a +most weighty and severe condemnation. The article, from which I am about +to quote an extract, certainly represented the opinion of the country at +the time--as _The Daily Telegraph_ has nearly always represented the +mass of opinion of the country at any given moment. To the sympathisers +with Wilde this article will seem unnecessarily cruel and severe. But to +those who have taken into account the best that has been written herein +about him during this terrible third period, and who have realised that +the writer simply states facts and does not desire to comment on them, +the article will seem only a natural and dignified expression of a truth +which was hardly controvertible. + + "No sterner rebuke could well have been inflicted on some of the + artistic tendencies of the time than the condemnation on Saturday + of Oscar Wilde at the Central Criminal Court. We have not the + slightest intention of reviewing once more all the sordid incidents + of a case which has done enough, and more than enough, to shock the + conscience and outrage the moral instincts of the community. The + man has now suffered the penalties of his career, and may well be + allowed to pass from that platform of publicity which he loved into + that limbo of disrepute and forgetfulness which is his due. The + grave of contemptuous oblivion may rest on his foolish ostentation, + his empty paradoxes, his insufferable posturing, his incurable + vanity. Nevertheless, when we remember that he enjoyed a certain + popularity among some sections of society, and, above all, when we + reflect that what was smiled at as insolent braggadocio was the + cover for, or at all events ended in, flagrant immorality, it is + well, perhaps, that the lesson of his life should not be passed + over without some insistence on the terrible warning of his fate. + Young men at the universities, clever sixth-form boys at public + schools, silly women who lend an ear to any chatter which is + petulant and vivacious, novelists who have sought to imitate the + style of paradox and unreality, poets who have lisped the language + of nerveless and effeminate libertinage--these are the persons who + should ponder with themselves the doctrines and the career of the + man who has now to undergo the righteous sentence of the law. We + speak sometimes of a school of Decadents and AEsthetes in England, + although it may well be doubted whether at any time its prominent + members could not have been counted on the fingers of one hand; + but, quite apart from any fixed organisation or body such as may or + may not exist in Paris, there has lately shown itself in London a + contemporary bias of thought, an affected manner of expression and + style, and a few loudly vaunted ideas which have had a limited but + evil influence on all the better tendencies of art and literature. + Of these the prisoner of Saturday constituted himself a + representative. He set an example, so far as in him lay, to the + weaker and the younger brethren; and, just because he possessed + considerable intellectual powers and unbounded assurance, his + fugitive success served to dazzle and bewilder those who had + neither experience nor knowledge of the principles which he + travestied, or of that true temple of art of which he was so + unworthy an acolyte. Let us hope that his removal will serve to + clear the poisoned air, and make it cleaner and purer for all + healthy and unvitiated lungs." + +It was the duty of a great journal to say what it said. Yet, +nevertheless, a certain wave of sorrow seemed to pass over the press +generally, and hostile comment on the _debacle_ was not unmingled with +regret for the unhappy man himself. The doctrines he was supposed to +have preached to the world at large were sternly denied and thundered +against. His own fate was, in the majority of cases, treated with a +sorrowful regret. + +Yet, nobody realised at all that in condemning what was supposed to be +the teaching and doctrine of Oscar Wilde, they were condemning merely +supposititious deduction from his manner of life, which could not be in +the least substantiated by any single line he had ever written. + +All through this first part of the book I have insisted upon the fact +that the man's life and the man's work should not be regarded as +identical. To-day, as I write, that attitude has taken complete +possession of the public mind. As was said in the first few pages of the +memoir, the whole of Europe is taking a sympathetic and intelligent +interest in the supreme art of the genius who produced so many beautiful +things. The public seems to have learned its lesson at last, but at the +beginning of what I have called the third period it was unable to +differentiate between the criminal, part of whose life was shameful, and +the artist, all of whose works were pure, stimulating, and splendid. I +quote but a few words from the printed comments upon Wilde's downfall. +They are taken from the well-known society paper _Truth_, and the writer +seems to strike only a note of wonder and amazement. The horrible fact +of Wilde's conviction had startled England, had startled the writer, and +a writer by no means unsympathetic in effect, into the following +paragraphs:-- + + "For myself, I turned into the Lyceum for half-an-hour, just to + listen, when the performance was actually stopped by the great + shout of congratulation that welcomed the first entrance of 'Sir + Henry.' Yet, through all these cheers I seemed to hear the dull + rumble of the prison van in which Oscar Wilde made his last + exit--to Holloway. While the great actor-manager stood in the + plenitude of position bowing and bowing again, to countless friends + and admirers, again there rose before my eyes the last ghastly + scene at the Old Bailey--I heard the voice of the foreman in its + low but steady answer, 'Guilty,' 'Guilty,' 'Guilty,' as count after + count was rehearsed by the clerk. I heard again that last awful + admonition from the judge. I remembered how there had flitted + through my mind the recollection of a night at St James's, the + cigarette, and the green carnation, as the prisoner, broken, + beaten, tottering, tried to steady himself against the dock rail + and asked in a strange, dry, ghostlike voice if he might address + the judge. Then came the volley of hisses, the prison warders, the + rapid break-up of the Court, the hurry into the blinding sunshine + outside, where some half-score garishly dressed, loose women of the + town danced on the pavement a kind of carmagnole of rejoicing at + the verdict. 'He'll 'ave 'is 'air cut regglar _now_,' says one of + them; and the others laughed stridently. I came away. I did not + laugh, for the matter is much too serious for laughter. + + "The more I think about the case of Oscar Wilde, my dear Dick, the + more astounding does the whole thing seem to me. So far as the man + himself is concerned, it would be charitable to assume that he is + not quite sane. Without considering--for the moment--the moral + aspect of the matter, here was a man who must have known that the + commission of certain acts constituted in the eye of the Law a + criminal offence. But no thought of wife or children, no regard, to + put it selfishly, for his own brilliant prospects, could induce him + to curb a depraved appetite which led him--a gentleman and a + scholar--to consort with the vilest and most depraved scum of the + town." + +Although, as I have said, printed comment was in one way reserved and +not ungenerous, the public and spoken comment on the case was utterly +and totally cruel. Those readers who remember the period of which I am +writing will bear me witness as to the universal chorus of hatred which +rose and bubbled all over the country. + +This was natural enough. + +One cannot expect mob law to be tolerant or to understand the myriad +issues and influences which go to make up any given event. The public +was right from its own point of view in all it said. To give instances +from personal recollection or the personal recollection of others of +this terrible shout of condemnation and hatred would be too painful for +writer and reader alike. + +While in prison Oscar Wilde wrote his marvellous book "De Profundis." +The reader will find that work very fully dealt with in its due place in +this work. It is not, therefore, necessary to say very much about it in +this first part of the volume which I have headed "Oscar Wilde: the +Man." It may not be out of place, however, to say that grave doubts were +thrown upon the truth of the statement that the book was written in +prison. Upon its publication rumours were circulated that the author +wrote "De Profundis" at his ease in Paris or in Naples, and finally the +rumours crystallised in a letter which was sent to _The St James's +Gazette_, the gist of which was as follows:-- + + "I have very strong doubts that it was written in prison, and the + gentleman who asserts that he received the MSS. before the + expiration of the sentence in Reading Gaol ought to procure a + confirmatory testimony to a proceeding which is contrary to all + prison discipline. If there is one thing more strictly carried out + than another it is that a prisoner shall not be allowed to handle + pen, ink, and paper, except when he writes the letter to his + friends, which, until the Prison Act, 1899, was once every three + months. Each prisoner can amuse himself with a slate and pencil, + but not pen and ink. It is now, and was, absolutely forbidden by + the prison authorities. + + "As was seen in Adolf Beck's case, where nine petitions appear in + the Commissioner's Report (Blue Book), a prisoner's liberty, + fortune, reputation, and life may be at stake, but he must tell his + story on two and a half sheets of foolscap. Not a scrap of paper is + allowed over the regulation sheets. In a local prison Oscar Wilde + could apply for the privilege of a special visit or a letter, and + probably would receive it, but as the official visitors of + prisoners are simply parts of a solemn farce, and there is no such + stereotyped method as giving a prisoner the slightest relief in + matters affecting the intellect, I have grave doubts that such + facilities were given as supplying pen, ink and paper to write 'De + Profundis.' + + "If it was otherwise the following process would have had to be + gone through, either an application to the official prison visitor + (possibly Major Arthur Griffiths) for leave to have pen, ink and + paper in his cell, which would be refused. By the influence of + friends, or the statement of his solicitors that they required + special instructions in reference to some evidence, his case, or + his property, leave might be granted, but not for journalistic or + literary purposes. Had Oscar Wilde's sentence been that of a + 'first-class misdemeanant' he could have had those privileges, but + I never heard that his sentence was mitigated in this respect. + + "Or, he might have applied to the visiting magistrates. In either + case there would be a record of such facilities, and the Governor + of Reading Gaol, the chaplain, and other officials can satisfy the + public as well as the Prison Commissioners. If the book was written + in prison then it is clear the officials made a distinction between + Oscar Wilde and other prisoners. + + "There is some glamour about books written in prisons. The + 'Pilgrim's Progress' is a prison book, but Bedford Gaol was a + pretty easy dungeon. Under the old _regime_ such men as William + Corbett, Orator Hunt, and Richard Carlile, conducted their polemic + warfare in prison. The last Chartist leader (the late Mr Ernest + Jones) used to tell how he wrote the 'Painter of Florence' and + other poems in a London gaol while confined for sedition. It was a + common subject of conversation with his young disciples how, as ink + was denied in Coldbath Street Prison, he made incisions in his arm + and wrote his poetry in his own blood. We believed it then, but as + we grew older that feeling of doubt made us sceptical. Thomas + Cooper's prison rhyme, the 'Purgatory of Suicides,' and his novel, + the 'Baron's Yule Feast,' were written during his two years' + imprisonment in Stafford Gaol for preaching a 'universal strike' as + a means of establishing a British Republic. + + "As 'De Profundis' is likely to be a classic, is it not as well to + have this question thrashed out at the beginning and not leave it + to the twenty-first century?" + +The editor of "De Profundis" replied in a short letter saying, in +effect, that he was not concerned to add anything to his definite +statement in the preface of the book, a course with which everyone will +be in agreement. To answer a busybody throwing doubts upon the statement +of an honourable gentleman is a mistake. The matter, however, went a +little further and was eventually set finally at rest. + +In _The Daily Mirror_ a facsimile of a page of the manuscript written on +prison paper was reproduced, and Mr Hamilton Fyfe accompanied the +letterpress by informing the public that he had seen the whole of the +manuscript of "De Profundis." It was written on blue foolscap paper with +the prison stamp on the top. There were about 60,000 words, of which +altogether not more than one-third were published in the English +edition. The explanation of the fact that the prisoner was allowed to +write in his cell is perfectly simple. + +Oscar Wilde handed this roll of paper to Mr Robert Ross on the day of +his release, and gave him absolute discretion as to printing it. He had +written most of it during the last three months of his two years' +sentence. It was during the last half-year of his term that Wilde was +allowed the special privilege of writing as much as he pleased. His +friends represented to the Home Office that a man who had been +accustomed to use his brain so continually was in danger of having his +mind injured by being unable to write for so long a time as two years. + +Dr Nicholson, of Broadmoor, who was consulted on the point, said he +thought this danger was quite a real one. So the necessary permission +was given, and Wilde could write whatever he liked. + +Later on the prison regulations were relaxed again. As a rule, prisoners +are not allowed to take away with them what they have written in their +cells. Strictly, the MS. of "De Profundis" ought to have remained among +the archives of Reading Gaol. + +The authorities realised, however, that to enforce this rule in Wilde's +case would have been harsh and unreasonable, so when (in order to defeat +the intentions of the late Lord Queensberry and his hired bullies) he +was removed from Reading to Wandsworth Prison, on the evening before his +release he took the MS. with him; and he had it under his arm when he +left the gloomy place next morning a free man. + +This statement, and the facsimile printed above, should make it +impossible henceforward for anyone to suggest, as many have been +suggesting quite recently, that there is any doubt about the whole of +the book having been written by Oscar Wilde during the time he was in +prison. + +The development of Oscar Wilde during his incarceration has, of course, +been summed up and stated for all time by himself in the marvellous +pages of "De Profundis." Yet, there are various accounts of that time of +agony which do but go to show what a really purifying and salutary +influence even the awful torture he underwent had upon the unhappy man. +By those who knew him in prison he is described as living a life which, +in its simple resignation, its kindly gentleness, its sweetness of +demeanour, was the life of a saint. No bitterness or harsh word ever +escaped him. When opportunity occurred of doing some tiny and furtive +kindness that kindness was always forthcoming. Those who rejoiced at the +fact of Wilde's imprisonment may well pause now when the true story of +it has filtered through various channels and is generally known. He +himself told Monsieur Andre Gide a strange and pathetic story of those +silent, unhappy hours. + +He speaks of one of the Governors under whose rule he lay in durance, +and says that this gentleman imposed needless suffering upon his unhappy +charges, not because of any inherent cruelty or contravention of the +rules for prison discipline, but because he was entirely lacking in +imagination. + +On one occasion, during the hour allowed for exercise, a prisoner who +walked behind Wilde upon the circular pathway of the yard addressed him +by name, and told him that he pitied him even more than he pitied +himself, because his sufferings must be greater than his. Such a sudden +word of sympathy from an unknown fellow-convict gave the poor poet an +exquisite moment of pleasure and pain. He answered him appropriately +with a word of thanks. But one of the warders had been a witness of the +occasion, and the matter was reported to the Governor. Two convicts had +been guilty of the outrage of exchanging a few words. The unknown +convict was taken first before the Governor. It is a prison regulation +that the punishment is not the same for the man who speaks first and the +man who answers him. The first offender has to pay a double penalty. The +Convict X., when before the Governor, stated that he was the culprit and +that he had spoken first. When afterwards Wilde was taken before the +martinet, he very naturally told him that he himself was the principal +offender. The Governor stated that he was unable to understand the +matter at all. He grew red and uneasy, and told Wilde that he had +already given X. fifteen days' solitary confinement. He then stated that +as Wilde had also confessed to be the principal offender he should award +him fifteen days' solitary confinement also! + +This touching incident shows both Wilde and the unknown convict in a +noble light, but the gentle way in which Oscar told of the incident to +the French journalist is even a greater tribute to the innate dignity of +his character, so long obscured by the exigencies of his life, so +beautifully laid bare when he had paid his debt to society. + +There are other anecdotes extant which confirm the above. All go to show +that the third period brought out the finest traits in Wilde's +character. We have in this period another and most touching side of the +complex temperament of this great genius, this extraordinary and unhappy +man. Much will have to be said on this point when the criticism of "De +Profundis" is reached. + +Meanwhile, I close the "third period" with a sense that here, at +anyrate, there is nothing to be said which is not wholly fragrant and +redolent of sincerity. + + +THE FOURTH PERIOD + +It is with a sense of both reluctance and relief that I enter upon a +short account of the fourth period, insomuch as this or that incident +during it throws a light upon the character of him of whom we speak. + +With a relief, because it is a far happier and more gracious task to +endeavour to criticise and appreciate the literary works of a great +genius than it is to chronicle facts in the life of a most unhappy man +which may help to elucidate the puzzle of his personality. + +With reluctance, because the fourth period is again one of almost +unadulterated gloom and sadness. I shall be as brief as possible, and +too much already has been written about the last days of Oscar Wilde +after his release from prison. + +A considerable amount of information has been placed at my disposal, +but I design to use none of it. The facts that are already known to +those who have taken an interest in Oscar Wilde may be briefly touched +upon here, and that is all. An eloquent plea from a near relation of the +poet should be respected here, and only such few facts as are really +necessary to complete this incomplete study shall be given. "Nothing +could have horrified him more than that men calling themselves his +friends should publish concerning his latter days details so disgusting +as those appearing in your issue of yesterday." Thus a paragraph from +the appeal I have mentioned, an appeal which was prompted by the +publication of many controversial articles as to the truth, or +otherwise, of Mr Wilde's reception into the Roman Church, his debts, his +manner of living towards the end. "I should be glad to think that this +expression of my wish may put an end to this unpleasant correspondence. +If it does not, I can only appeal to your correspondents to be very +careful of what they write, and to reflect upon what Mr Oscar Wilde +would think if he could read their letters. In life, he never said or +countenanced a coarse or common thing. Personally, I write with too much +reluctance to reply to them again, and I leave the matter to their sense +of decency and chivalry." + +Immediately upon his release from prison Oscar Wilde wrote his famous +letters to _The Daily Chronicle_ on "Children in Prison and Other +Cruelties of Life in Gaol." He told a terrible story of a poor little +child whose face was "like a white wedge of sheer terror," and in his +eyes "the mute appeal of a hunted animal." Wilde had heard the poor +little fellow at breakfast-time crying and calling to be let out. He was +calling for his parents, and every now and then the elder prisoner could +hear the harsh voice of the warder on duty telling the little boy to be +quiet. The child had not been convicted of the offence with which he was +charged, but was simply on remand. A kind-hearted warder, finding the +little fellow crying with hunger and utterly unable to eat the bread and +water given it for breakfast, brought it some sweet biscuits. This, Mr +Wilde truthfully said, was a "beautiful action on the warder's part." +The child, grateful for the man's kindness, told one of the senior +warders about it. The result was that the warder who had brought the +biscuits to the starving child was reported and dismissed from the +service. + +It is not too much to say that this story, told in the prose of a master +of prose, written with a crushing and sledgehammer force all the more +powerful because it was most marvellously simple, thrilled the whole of +England. There followed an even more terrible story. + +Three months or so before his release, Wilde had noticed, among the +prisoners who took exercise with him, a young prisoner who was obviously +either half-witted or trembling upon the verge of insanity. This poor +creature used to gesticulate, laugh and talk to himself. "At chapel he +used to sit right under the observation of two warders, who carefully +watched him all the time. Sometimes he would bury his head in his hands, +an offence against the chapel regulations, and his head would be +immediately struck up by a warder.... He was on more than one occasion +sent out of chapel to his cell, and of course he was continually +punished.... I saw that he was becoming insane and was being treated as +if he were shamming." There was a terrible denouement to this hideous +story. Mr Wilde went on to say in words that do him eternal credit and +which no one who has read them could ever forget: + + "On Saturday week last, I was in my cell at about one o'clock + occupied in cleaning and polishing the tins I had been using for + dinner. Suddenly I was startled by the prison silence being broken + by the most horrible and revolting shrieks, or rather howls, for at + first I thought some animal like a bull or a cow was being + unskilfully slaughtered outside the prison walls. I soon realised, + however, that the howls proceeded from the basement of the prison, + and I knew that some wretched man was being flogged. I need not + say how hideous and terrible it was for me, and I began to wonder + who it was being punished in this revolting manner. Suddenly it + dawned upon me that they might be flogging this unfortunate + lunatic. My feelings on the subject need not be chronicled; they + have nothing to do with the question. + + "The next day, Sunday, I saw the poor fellow at exercise, his weak, + ugly, wretched face bloated by tears and hysteria almost beyond + recognition. He walked in the centre ring along with the old men, + the beggars and the lame people, so that I was able to observe him + the whole time. It was my last Sunday in prison, a perfectly lovely + day, the finest day we had had the whole year, and there, in the + beautiful sunlight, walked this poor creature--made once in the + image of God--grinning like an ape, and making with his hands the + most fantastic gestures." + +The story continued with even more terrible details than these. It is no +part of my plan to harrow the feelings of my readers by a reprint of +such horrors. I have said enough, I trust, to fulfil my purpose in +quoting Oscar Wilde's letters to all--to show how powerfully he himself +was moved with pity, and how he strove, even in his own terrible +re-entrance to a world which would have none of him, to influence public +opinion on the behalf of one who was being done to death, not perhaps +by conscious cruelty, but by the awful stupidity of those who live by an +inflexible rule which can make no allowance for special circumstances, +which is as hard as the nether millstone and as cold as death itself. + +So Oscar Wilde passed out of England with pity flowing from his pen and +with pity in his heart. I wish that it was possible to end this memoir +here. As I have set out to give all the facts which seem necessary to +provide a complete picture for readers who know little or nothing of +Oscar Wilde's nature, beyond the fact of his triumphs as a playwright +and his subsequent disgrace, I must not shrink from proceeding to the +end, as I have not shrunk from frankly recording facts in the first and +second periods. It would be a fault, and insincere, to allow a deep and +very natural sympathy to interfere with the performance, however +inadequately it has been carried out, of the task I set out to complete. + +Oscar Wilde crossed immediately to Dieppe, and shortly afterwards +installed himself in a villa at a small seaside place some miles away +from the gay Norman bathing place. His life at Berneval was simple and +happy. His biographer, Mr Robert Harborough Sherard, who visited him +there, has told of the quiet repose and healing days which Oscar Wilde +enjoyed. He had a sufficient sum of money to live in comfort for a year +or so, and all would doubtless have gone well with him had it not been +for certain malign influences which had already been prominent factors +in wrecking his life, and which now appeared again to menace his newly +found salvation of mind and spirit. Such references are not within the +province of the book, the story has been told elsewhere. The thing would +not have been referred to at all, did it not illustrate the impatience +and weakness of Wilde's character, even at this point in his history. +The malign influences eventually had their way with the poet--that is to +say, certain companions whom it was most unwise of him to see or +recognise, once more entered into his life in a certain degree. + +A letter which was written to a gentleman who has translated a French +memoir dealing with the poet, says: "No more beautiful life has any man +lived, no more beautiful life could any man live than Oscar Wilde lived +during the short period I knew him in prison. He wore upon his face an +eternal smile; sunshine was on his face, sunshine of some sort must have +been in his heart. People say he was not sincere: he was the very soul +of sincerity when I knew him. If he did not continue that life after he +left prison, then the forces of evil must have been too strong for him. +But he tried, he honestly tried, and in prison he succeeded." The +forces of evil were too strong. + +Oscar Wilde spent the last few years, and alas! miserable years, of his +life in alternations of sordid poverty and sudden waves of temporary +prosperity, in the city of Paris. There have been all sorts of stories +about these last few years. The truth is simply this. Wilde's intellect +was crushed and broken. The creative faculty flamed up for the last time +in that brilliant and terrible poem, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol." Then +it sank again and was never revived. When I say "creative faculty" I +mean the faculty of producing a sustained artistic effort. As a talker +the poet was never more brilliant. "Every now and again one or other of +the very few faithful English friends left to him would turn up in Paris +and take him to dinner at one of the best restaurants, and anyone who +met him on these occasions would have found it difficult to believe that +he had ever passed through such awful experiences. Whether he was +expounding some theory, grave or fantastic, embroidering it the while +with flashes of impromptu wit, or deepening it with extraordinary +intimate learning, or whether he was keeping the table in a roar with +his delightfully whimsical humour, a summer lightning that flashed and +hurt no one, he was equally admirable. To have lived in his lifetime and +not to have heard him talk is as though one had lived at Athens without +going to look at the Parthenon." + +I think we should be glad to know that in the wrecked life of this +period the poet had some happy moments when he could reconstruct in +bright and brilliant surroundings some slight renewal of other days that +were gone for ever. There is no doubt at all that friends, both those +who had had a good and those who had had a bad influence on his past +life, were very kind to him. + +He was supplied with enough money to have lived in considerable comfort +had he not been incurably reckless and a spendthrift. It has been said +that he died in wretched poverty and in debt. This is partly true, but +it was entirely his own fault. There is indubitable proof of the fairly +large sums he received from time to time. Some of his letters to a man +in London, who occasionally employed his pen, have been sold to the +curious, and such poignant passages as: "I rely on your sending me a +little money to-morrow. I have only succeeded in getting twenty francs +from the Concierge, and I am in a bad way," or, "I wish to goodness you +could come over, also--send me, if you can, L4 or even L3. I am now +trying to leave my hotel and get rooms where I can be at rest, and so +stay in during the morning." + +These letters seem to show that Oscar Wilde was nearly starving. I can +assure my readers this was not the case. With the realisation that there +would never be any more place for him in the world had come a +carelessness and recklessness to all but immediate and petty sensual +gratifications from day to day. + +His landlord stated that towards the end it became very difficult for +Wilde to write at all. "He used to whip himself up with cognac. A litre +bottle would hardly see him through the night. And he ate little. And he +took little exercise. He used to sleep till noon, and then breakfast, +and then sleep again till five or six in the evening." + +This is enough. I have said as little as can well be said. But let us +remember the frightful and crushing disabilities under which Wilde +suffered. Who is there who dare cast a stone? His death came as a happy +release, and it was sordid and dreadful enough to complete the grim +tragedy of his life without deviation from its completeness. True, an +attached friend was by him at the end. True, the offices of the Holy +Catholic Church lightened his passing. Yet, nevertheless, there was an +abiding and sinister gloom about all his last hours. Details can be +found in other places. "How Oscar Wilde died" was a journalistic +sensation at the time. + +I will simply quote the words of a French critic, who, after the end, +went to pay his last sad duties to the shell which had held the poet's +soul: "... The hotel in which he died was one of those horrible places +which are called in the popular papers 'Houses of Crime.' A veritable +Hercules of a porter led me through a long, evil-smelling corridor. At +last the odour of some disinfectant struck my nostrils. An open door. A +little square room. I stood before the corpse. His whitish, emaciated +face, strangely altered through the growth of a beard after death, +seemed to be lost in profound contemplation. A hand, cramped in agony, +still clutched the dirty bed cloth. There was no one to watch by his +body. Only much later they sent him some flowers. The noise of the +street pierced the thin walls of the building. A stale odour filled the +air. Ah, what loneliness, what an end!" + +If I have quoted this ugly and vulgar picture of the poet's body in the +sordid room I have done so with intention. + +It is in the contemplation of such scenes as this that our minds and +hearts are uplifted from the material to the supreme hope of all of us. +The man who had suffered and sinned and done noble things in this world +had gone away from it. Doubtless, when the Frenchman with his prying +eyes and notebook was gloating over the material sensation of the scene, +the soul of the poet was hearing harmonies too long unknown to it, and +was beginning to undergo the Purification. + +_Requiescat._ + + * * * * * + +Oscar Wilde was always a loving student of Dante. In that contempt for +the world's opinion, which is sometimes the strength and also the ruin +of great geniuses, Wilde bore a strong resemblance to the great Italian +who said "Lascia dir le genti." The versatility of Oscar Wilde was +supreme, and that is in itself the real solution of whatever is most +astonishing in his power or startling in his madness, of all that most +draws us towards him or repels us with an equal strength. "A variety of +powers almost boundless, a pride not less vast in displaying them--a +susceptibility of new impressions and impulses, even beyond the usual +allotment of genius ... such were the two great and leading sources of +all that varied spectacle which his life exhibited; and that succession +of victories achieved by his genius, in almost every field of mind that +genius ever trod, and of all those sallies of character in every shape +and direction that unchecked feeling and dominant self-will can +dictate." + +It is not for the author of this memoir, whose attitude has been +studiously impersonal throughout, to attempt any dictation to his +readers as to the judgment they shall ultimately form upon the character +of Oscar Wilde. + +At the same time, he hopes that it may not be forbidden him to give his +own, and doubtless very imperfect, view. He thinks that in regarding the +whole field of the poet's life, as far as it can be known to others, one +finds him to be a sweet and noble nature with much of the serenity of +"highness" which accompanies a great genius, yet, obscured, soiled, +overlapped, and periodically destroyed by a terrible and riotous +madness, both of talk and of thought. It is a facile and dangerous thing +to attribute all the good and noble actions of any man to his "real +self," and to say that all the evil he wrought and did came from madness +or irresponsibility. If such a doctrine were to be generally accepted +and believed, laws would lose their _raison d'etre_, punishment would +become a mockery, and society would inevitably end. + +Yet, possibly it may be that some few souls exist and have existed of +whom such a statement may be true. If such exceptions do exist and have +existed, then surely Oscar Wilde was one of them. There seems to be no +other explanation of him but just this; and if we do not accept it I, at +anyrate, cannot see any other. + +Let each reader of this book appropriate his own, and I conclude the +first part of it by repeating the old, old prayer-- + +_Requiescat._ + + + + +PART II + +THE MODERN PLAYWRIGHT + + + + +THE DRAMATIST + + +When Mr George Alexander produced "Lady Windermere's Fan" at the St +James's Theatre, in the spring of 1892, it created an unprecedented +furore among all ranks of the playgoing public, and placed the author at +once upon a pedestal in the Valhalla of the Drama; not on account of the +plot, which was frankly somewhat _vieux jeu_, nor yet upon any striking +originality in the types of the personages who were to unravel it, but +upon the sparkle of the dialogue, the brilliancy of the epigrams, a +condition of things to which the English stage had hitherto been +entirely unaccustomed. The author was acclaimed as a playwright who had +at last succeeded in clothing stagecraft with the vesture of literature, +and with happy phrase and nimble paradox delighted the minds of his +audience. What promise of a long succession of social comedies, +illuminated by the intimate knowledge of his subject that he so entirely +possessed, was held out to us! Here was a man who treated society as it +really exists; who was himself living in it; portraying its folk as he +knew them, with their virtues and vices coming to them as naturally as +the facile flow of their conversation; conversation interlarded with no +stilted sentences, no well- (or ill-) rounded periods, but such as that +which falls without conscious effort from the lips of people who, in +whatever surroundings they may be placed, are, before all things, and at +all times, thoroughly at their ease. It may be objected that people in +real life, even in the higher life of the Upper Ten, do not habitually +scatter sprightly pleasantries abroad as they sit around the +five-o'clock tea-table. That Oscar Wilde made every personage he +depicted talk as he himself was wont to talk. _Passe encore._ The real +fact remains that he _knew_ the social atmosphere he represented, had +breathed it, and was familiar with all its traditions and mannerisms. He +gave us the _tone_ of Society as it had never before been given. He was +at home in it. He could exhibit a ball upon the stage where real ladies +and gentlemen assembled together, quite distinct from the ancient +"Adelphi guests" who had hitherto done yeoman's service in every form of +entertainment imagined by the dramatist. The company who came to his +great parties were at least _vraisemblables_, beings who conducted +themselves as if they really might have been there. And so it was in +every scene, in every situation. His types are drawn with the pen of +knowledge, dipped in the ink of experience. That was his secret, the +keynote of his success. And with what power he used it the world is now +fully aware. It is not too much to say that Oscar Wilde revolutionised +dramatic art. Henceforth it began to be understood that the playwright +who would obtain the merit of a certain plausibility must endeavour to +infuse something of the breath of life into his creations, and make them +act and talk in a manner that was at least possible. + +It has been a popular _pose_ among certain superior persons, equally +devoid of humour themselves as of the power of appreciating it in +others, that Oscar Wilde sacrificed dramatic action to dialogue; that +his plays were lacking in human interest, his plots of the very poorest; +a fact that was skilfully concealed by the sallies of smart sayings and +witty repartee, which carried the hearers away during the +representation, so that in the charm of the style they forgot the +absence of the substance. But such is by no means the case. The author +recognised, with his fine artistic _flair_, that mere talk, however +admirable, will not carry a play to a successful issue without a strong +underlying stratum of histrionic interest to support it. There are +situations in his comedies as powerful in their handling as could be +desired by the most devout stickler for dramatic intention. There are +scenes in which the humorist lays aside his motley, and becomes the +moralist, unsparing in his methods to enforce, _a l'outrance_, the +significance of his text. In each of his plays there are moments in +which the action is followed by the spectator with absorbed attention; +incidents of emotional value treated in no half-hearted fashion. Such +are the hall mark of the true dramatist who can touch, with the unerring +instinct of the poet, the finest feelings, the deepest sympathies of his +audience, and which place Oscar Wilde by the side of Victorien Sardou. +As has been well written by one of our most impartial critics: "No other +among our playwrights equals this distinguished Frenchman, either in +imagination or in poignancy of style." + +Again, it has been contended, with a sneer, that the turning out of +witty speeches is but a trick, easy of imitation by any theatrical +scribe who sets himself to the task. But how many of Wilde's +imitators--and there have been not a few--have accomplished such command +of language, such literary charm, such "fineness" of wit? Who among them +all has ever managed to hold an audience spellbound in the same way? How +many have succeeded in drawing from a miscellaneous crowd of spectators +such spontaneous expressions of delighted approval as "How brilliant! +How true!" first muttered by each under the breath to himself, and then +tossed loudly from one to the other in pure enjoyment, as the solid +truth, underlying the varnish of the paradox, was borne home to them? +Surely, not one can be indicated. Nor is the reason far to seek. For in +all Oscar Wilde's seemingly irresponsible witticisms it is not only the +device of the inverted epigram that is made a characteristic feature of +the dialogue; there is real human nature behind the artificialities, +there is poetry beneath the prose, the grip of the master's hand in +seemingly toying with truth. And it is the possession of these innate +qualities that differentiates the inventor from his imitators, and +leaves them hopelessly behind in the race for dramatic distinction. + +To invent anything is difficult, and in proportion to its merits +praiseworthy. To cavil at that which has been devised, to point with the +finger of scorn at its imperfections, to "run it down," is only too easy +a pastime. Oscar Wilde was before all an inventor. Whatever he touched +he endowed with the gracious gift of style that bore the stamp of his +own individual genius. He originated a new treatment for ancient themes. +For there is no such thing as an absolutely new "plot." Every play that +has been written is founded on doings, dealings, incidents that have +happened over and over again. Love, licit or illicit, the mainspring of +all drama, is the same to-day as it was yesterday, and will be for ever +and ever in this world. One man and one woman, or one woman and two men, +or again, as a pleasant variant, two women and one man. Such are the +eternal puppets that play the game of Love upon the Stage of Life; the +unconscious victims of the sentiment which sometimes makes for tragedy. +They are always with us, placed in the same situations, and extricating +themselves (or otherwise) in the same old way. So that when a new +playwright is condemned by the critics as a furbisher-up of well-known +_cliches_ he is hardly treated. He cannot help himself. He must tread +the familiar paths, _faute de mieux_. And the public, with its big human +heart and unquestioning traditions, knows this, and is satisfied +therewith. Nothing really pleases people so much as to tell them +something they already know. What an accomplished dramatist can do is to +rehabilitate his characters by the power of his own personality, and by +felicitous treatment invest his action with fresh interest. And this is +what Oscar Wilde effected in stagecraft. He vitalised it. + +It is well-nigh impossible, under the existing conditions of the theatre +in England, to form any just appreciation of the dramatist's work at +all. A novel may be read at any time, but a play depends on the caprice +of a manager to "present" it or not, as suits his commercial +convenience. Happily for us the comedies of Oscar Wilde are printed and +published, and can be enjoyed equally in the study as in the stalls. We +must go back to Congreve and Sheridan to find a parallel. It is the +triumph of the _litterateur_ over the histrionic hack, the man whose +volumes are taken down from the shelves where they repose, again and +again, and require no adventitious aid of scenery and costume to enhance +the pleasure they afford. Albeit that the habit of reading plays is not +particularly an English one. The old Puritan feeling that all things +theatrical were tainted with more or less immorality still clings to +many a mind. Emotion is yet looked upon with suspicion, and as the +theatre is the hotbed of emotion it is even now regarded in some +quarters as a dangerous, if exciting, pleasure-ground. Sober-minded folk +prefer rather to take their doses of love tales in the form of the +novel, however inexpert, than in that of the play, however masterly it +may be. Let an author put to the vote his appeal to his public through +their eyes or their ears, it will be found that the eyes have it. They +prefer to stop at home and read, as they consider, seriously, than to go +abroad and listen to what they hold to be, trivialities. Oscar Wilde +has, in great measure, been instrumental in putting these illiberal +views to flight. Men and women are now to be found in the theatre when +his pieces are represented who not so long ago pooh-poohed the drama +from an intelligent standpoint. He has turned attention to the fact that +the dramatic method of telling a story may be made as intellectually +interesting as in the best-written romances of the novelist. He brought +to bear upon his work a singular power of observation, a fine +imagination, a unique wit, and above all, and beneath all, an extensive +knowledge of human life, and human character. Plays imbued with all +these qualities were bound to make their mark. He knocked away the +absurd conventions, the stereotyped phrases of the stage as he knew it. +He placed on it living people in the place of mechanical puppets, and by +his happy inspiration created a new order in the profession of +dramaturgy. + +It would be an interesting subject for speculation--were it not such a +deeply sad one--how far Oscar Wilde, had he been permitted to live, +would have gone in the new _voie_ he had chosen for the expression of +his artistic perceptions. Between "Lady Windermere's Fan" and "The +Importance Of Being Earnest," the first and last of his comedies, there +is evidence of very marked and rapid advancement in his art. In the +former he shows us the invention of a hitherto unhandseled form of +histrionic composition--the dialogue-drama. But he is feeling his way in +this new departure of his, diffident of its success; while in the latter +he has perfected what was more or less crude, incomplete, found wanting, +and what was originally the natural hesitation of the novice has +developed into the assured pronouncements of the adept. He was moving +onwards. He was making theatrical history. He was becoming a power. And +we who now read, mark, learn, be it on the stage or in the study, what +he achieved in the production of but four modern comedies, can only +premise that to-day he would have "arrived" at the meridian of his art. +For, not in vain, was born the delicate wit that played around a +philosophy of life, founded upon subtle observation, and one that has +animated some of the most prominent literary and dramatic productions of +our generation. Not in vain was struck that note of truth and sincerity +in social ethics, unheard in the _ad captandum_ strains of our +professional novelists. Underlying those "phraseological inversions," so +daintily cooed by the dove, was the wisdom of the serpent. It is the +spirit of the poet speaking through the medium of prose. It is the +utterance of the great artist that must compel attention even from the +Philistines who sit in the seats of the scornful. + + + + +"LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN" + +(_Produced by Mr George Alexander at the St James's Theatre on 22nd +February 1892_) + + +I Have endeavoured to indicate, I trust more or less successfully, the +manner in which an enthusiastic public received the first of Oscar +Wilde's comedies. Let us now glance at the attitude affected by the +critics. It is not too much to say that it was of undoubted hostility. +Their verdict was decidedly an inimical one. They had received an +unexpected shock, and were staggering under it in an angry, helpless +way. The new dramatist was a surprise, and an unpleasing one. He had in +one evening destroyed the comfortable conventions of the stage, hitherto +so dear to the critic's heart. He had dared to break down the barriers +of ancient prejudice, and attempt something new, something original. In +a word, he had dared to be himself, the most heinous offence of all! +They could not entirely ignore his undeniable talent. Public opinion was +on his side. So they dragged in side issues to point _their_ little +moral, and adorn _their_ little tale. This is how Mr Clement Scott +writes after the first performance of "Lady Windermere's Fan": + + "Supposing, after all, Mr Oscar Wilde is a cynic of deeper + significance than we take him to be. Supposing he intends to reform + and revolutionise Society at large by sublime self-sacrifice. There + are two sides to every question, and Mr Oscar Wilde's piety in + social reform has not as yet been urged by anybody. His attitude + has been so extraordinary that I am inclined to give him the + benefit of the doubt. It is possible he may have said to himself, + 'I will show you, and prove to you, to what an extent bad manners + are not only recognised, but endorsed in this wholly free and + unrestricted age. I will do on the stage of a public theatre what I + should not dare to do at a mass meeting in the Park. I will uncover + my head in the presence of refined women, but I refuse to put down + my cigarette. The working man may put out his pipe when he spouts, + but my cigarette is too 'precious' for destruction. I will show no + humility, and I will stand unrebuked. I will take greater liberties + with the public than any author who has ever preceded me in + history. And I will retire scatheless. The society that allows boys + to puff cigarette smoke in the faces of ladies in the theatre + corridors will condone the originality of a smoking author on the + stage.' This may be the form of Mr Oscar Wilde's curious cynicism. + He may say, 'I will test this question of manners, and show that + they are not nowadays recognised.'" + +So far Mr Clement Scott, then the leader of the critic band who took his +tone and cheerfully followed where he led--the old story of "Les brebis +de Pannege." And to show how universal was this inordinate enmity, I +will quote a paragraph from, at that time, the leading journal of +historical criticism, written on the withdrawal of the play after a +successful "run" of nine months. After endorsing the general opinion of +the play as "A comedy of Society manners pure and simple which may +fairly claim its place among the recognised names in that almost extinct +class of drama," the writer goes on to say in the conclusion of his +article--"Not the least amusing reminiscence will be the ferocious wrath +which, on its first appearance, the play provoked among the regular +stage-critics, almost to a man. Except that Mr Wilde smoked a cigarette +when called on, it is difficult to see why--unless it was because the +comedy ran off the beaten track which is just what they are always +deprecating." In this last sentence lies the _clou_ of the whole +situation. The entire band had been clamouring for years for something +fresh, "off the beaten track," and this is how they received it when +they got it! Verily, the ways of criticism are indeed marvellous, and +difficult of comprehension. But the author triumphed over them all and +won his laurels despite the forces arrayed against him. His first +comedy was a splendid success. + +It must be conceded that there is nothing new in the plot of "Lady +Windermere's Fan." It is an old tale of intrigue which has done duty on +the stage over and over again. It has inspired many a play. But as I +before observed, it is in its treatment by the accomplished hand that +the novelty of drama lies. And here we have an interesting example of +how old lamps may be made to look new at the touch of the magician's +wand. + +Lord and Lady Windermere have been married for a couple of years when +the action of the play commences. It was a love-match, and the sky of +happiness has hitherto been without a cloud. But the cloud at last +appears in the guise of a certain Mrs Erlynne, a somewhat notorious +_divorcee_, who has managed to gain admission into Society, in a +half-acknowledged way, by means of her charms and her cash. The cash is +supplied by Lord Windermere, and is in the nature of hush-money. For Mrs +Erlynne turns out to be no other than Lady Windermere's mother, supposed +to be long dead, and the "cloud" might prove an uncommonly inconvenient +one if allowed suddenly to burst upon the unsuspicious _menage_. So she +is kept quiet by the cheques of her son-in-law. But her friends are not +backward in enlightening Lady Windermere as to her husband's frequent +visits to Mrs Erlynne, and one of them, the Duchess of Berwick, is more +outspoken than the others, and succeeds in persuading poor +innocent-minded Lady Windermere that the worst constructions should be +placed upon his lordship's conduct. Mrs Erlynne has managed to induce +Lord Windermere to send her a card for his wife's birthday ball, +whereat, Lady Windermere, when she hears of this from her husband's +lips, declares she will insult the guest openly if she arrives. But she +does arrive and she is not insulted, although the celebrated fan is +grasped ready to strike the blow! The ball passes off quietly enough, +without any open scandal. But Lady Windermere, surprising, as she +imagines, her husband in a compromising _tete-a-tete_ with the +fascinating intruder, determines in a moment of nervous tension to leave +the house, and betake herself to the rooms of Lord Darlington, who +earlier in the evening has offered her his sympathy, and his heart. +Before she departs, however, she writes her husband a letter informing +him of her intentions. This letter she leaves on a bureau where he is +sure to find it. It is not he who finds it, however, but Mrs Erlynne. +With the instinct born of a past and vast experience she scents danger, +and opens and reads it. Then her better feelings and worse heart are +suddenly awakened, and she determines, at all risks, to save her +daughter. Whereupon she follows her to Lord Darlington's rooms, and, +after a long scene between the two women, induces Lady Windermere to +return to her husband before her flight is discovered. But it is too +late. Lord Darlington, with a party of friends including Lord +Windermere, is returning. Their voices are heard outside the door. Lady +Windermere hides behind a curtain ready to escape on the first +opportunity, while Mrs Erlynne--when Lord Windermere's suspicions are +aroused at the sight of his wife's fan, and he insists on searching the +room--comes forth from the place where she had concealed herself, and +boldly takes upon herself the ownership of the fatal _piece a +conviction_. Lady Windermere is saved, and at the end of the play is +reconciled to her husband without uncomfortable explanations, while Mrs +Erlynne marries an elderly adorer, who is brother to the Duchess of +Berwick. + +Such, in brief, is the plot of "Lady Windermere's Fan." Every playgoer +will at once recognise its situations, and hail its intrigue as an old +and well-tried friend; the loving husband and wife, the fascinating +adventuress who comes between them and cannot be explained; the tempter +who offers substantial consolation to the outraged wife; the +compromising fan, or scarf, or glove (_selon les gouts_) found by the +husband in the room of the other man; the convenient curtain closely +drawn as if to invite concealment; the hairbreadth escape of the wife +leaving the _onus_ of the scandal to fall upon the shoulders of some +self-sacrificing friend; the final reconciliation of husband and wife +without any infelicitous catechism; are not these things written in the +pages of all the plays that--as George Meredith so happily puts +it--"deal with human nature in the drawing-rooms of civilised men and +women." With certain variations they are the mainstay--the French word +is _l'armature_--of every comedy of genteel passions and +misunderstandings that ever existed. Now, how does Oscar Wilde contrive +to clothe this dramatic skeleton with the flesh and blood of real life? +How invest the familiar figures with the plausible presentment of +new-born interest? Simply by the wonderful power of his personality, +which dominates all he touches, and rejuvenates the venerable bones of +his _dramatis personae_, compelling them, after the fashion of the "Pied +Piper," to dance to any tune he chooses to call. Or, perhaps, "sing" +would be a better expression than "dance." For it is in what they say, +rather than what they do, that our chief interest in them lies. We do +not ask: "What are they going to do next?" That is more or less a +forgone conclusion. But what we wait for with alert attention is what +they are going to say next. And so we come back to that brilliant +dialogue which is, as it should be, the chief feature of the play +albeit that play is as well constructed as any could desire, +straightforward and convincing. As a critic once wrote of it from the +craftsman's point of view: "'Lady Windermere's Fan' as a specimen of +true comedy is a head and shoulders above any of its contemporaries. It +has nothing in common with farcical comedy, with didactic comedy, or the +'literary' comedy of which we have heard so much of late from +disappointed authors, whose principal claim to literature appears to +consist in being undramatic. It is a distinguishing note of Mr Wilde +that he has condescended to learn his business, and has written a +workmanlike play as well as a good comedy. Without that it would be +worthless." In corroboration of this statement it is only necessary to +note how skilfully, when it comes to the necessity of dramatic action, +these scenes are handled. Take the one in the second act, where Mrs +Erlynne, more or less, forces her way into Lady Windermere's ballroom. +It is an episode of extreme importance, and how well led up to! Lord and +Lady Windermere are on the stage together. + + _Lord Windermere._ Margaret, I _must_ speak to you. + + _Lady Windermere._ Will you hold my fan for me, Lord Darlington? + Thanks. (_Comes down to him._) + + _Lord Windermere._ (_Crossing to her._) Margaret, what you said + before dinner was, of course, impossible? + + _Lady Windermere._ That woman is not coming here to-night! + + _Lord Windermere._ (_R.C._) Mrs Erlynne is coming here, and if you + in any way annoy or wound her, you will bring shame and sorrow on + us both. Remember that! Ah, Margaret! only trust me! A wife should + trust her husband. + + _Lady Windermere._ London is full of women who trust their + husbands. One can always recognise them. They look so thoroughly + unhappy. I am not going to be one of them. (_Moves up._) Lord + Darlington, will you give me back my fan, please? Thanks.... A + useful thing a fan, isn't it?... I want a friend to-night, Lord + Darlington. I didn't know I would want one soon. + + _Lord Darlington._ Lady Windermere! I knew the time would come some + day: but why to-night? + + _Lord Windermere._ I _will_ tell her. I must. It would be terrible + if there were any scene. Margaret.... + + _Parker_ (_announcing_). Mrs Erlynne. + + (_Lord Windermere starts. Mrs Erlynne enters, very beautifully + dressed and very dignified. Lady Windermere clutches at her fan, + then lets it drop on the floor. She bows coldly to Mrs Erlynne, + who bows to her sweetly in turn, and sails into the room._) + +If this is not effective stagecraft, I do not know what is. And the +dramatist strikes a deeper, and more tragic, note in the scene later on +(in the same act) where Mrs Erlynne discovers the letter of farewell +that Lady Windermere had written to her husband. + + (_Parker enters, and crosses towards the ballroom, R. Enter Mrs + Erlynne._) + + _Mrs Erlynne._ Is Lady Windermere in the ballroom? + + _Parker._ Her ladyship has just gone out. + + _Mrs Erlynne._ Gone out? She's not on the terrace? + + _Parker._ No, madam. Her Ladyship has just gone out of the house. + + _Mrs Erlynne_ (_Starts and looks at the servant with a puzzled + expression on her face_). Out of the house? + + _Parker._ Yes, madam--her Ladyship told me she had left a letter + for his Lordship on the table. + + _Mrs Erlynne._ A letter for Lord Windermere? + + _Parker._ Yes, madam. + + _Mrs Erlynne._ Thank you. + + (_Exit Parker. The music in the ballroom stops._) + + Gone out of her house! A letter addressed to her husband! + + (_Goes over to bureau and looks at letter. Takes it up and lays it + down again with a shudder of fear._) + + No, no! it would be impossible! Life doesn't repeat its tragedies + like that! Oh, why does this horrible fancy come across me? Why do + I remember now the one moment of my life I most wish to forget? + Does life repeat its tragedies? + + (_Tears letter open and reads it, then sinks down into a chair with + a gesture of anguish._) + + Oh, how terrible! the same words that twenty years ago I wrote to + her father! And how bitterly I have been punished for it! No; my + punishment, my real punishment is to-night, is now! + +I have quoted these two episodes from the second act to demonstrate how +equal was the playwright to the exigencies of his art. But it is in the +third act, laid in Lord Darlington's rooms, that he reaches the level of +high dramatic skill. First, in the scene between the mother and +daughter, written with extraordinary power and pathos, and later on, +when each of the women are hidden, the "man's scene" which ranks with +the famous club scene in Lord Lytton's "Money." The _blase_ and genial +tone of these men of the world is admirably caught. Their conversation +sparkles with wit and wisdom--of the world _bien entendu_. But it is in +Mrs Erlynne's appeal to her daughter, with all its tragic intent that +the author surpasses himself. Just read it over. It is a masterpiece of +restrained emotion. + + _Mrs Erlynne._ (_Starts with a gesture of pain. Then restrains + herself, and comes over to where Lady Windermere is sitting. As she + speaks, she stretches out her hands towards her, but does not dare + to touch her._) Believe what you choose about me. I am not without + a moment's sorrow. But don't spoil your beautiful young life on my + account. You don't know what may be in store for you, unless you + leave this house at once. You don't know what it is to fall into + the pit, to be despised, mocked, abandoned, sneered at--to be an + outcast! to find the door shut against one, to have to creep in by + hideous byways, afraid every moment lest the mask should be + stripped from one's face, and all the while to hear the laughter of + the world, a thing more tragic than all the tears the world has + ever shed. You don't know what it is. One pays for one's sin, and + then one pays again, and all one's life one pays. You must never + know that. As for me, if suffering be an expiation, then at this + moment I have expiated all my faults, whatever they have been; for + to-night you have made a heart in one who had it not, made it and + broken it. But let that pass. I may have wrecked my own life, but I + will not let you wreck yours. You--why you are a mere girl, you + would be lost. You haven't got the kind of brains that enables a + woman to get back. You have neither the wit nor the courage. You + couldn't stand dishonour. No! go back, Lady Windermere, to the + husband who loves you, whom you love. You have a child, Lady + Windermere. Go back to that child who even now, in pain or in joy, + may be calling to you. (_Lady Windermere rises._) God gave you that + child. He will require from you that you make his life fine, that + you watch over him. What answer will you make to God, if his life + is ruined through you? Back to your house, Lady Windermere--your + husband loves you. He has never swerved for a moment from the love + he bears you. But even if he had a thousand loves, you must stay + with your child. If he was harsh to you, you must stay with your + child. If he ill-treated you, you must stay with your child. If he + abandoned you your place is with your child. + + (_Lady Windermere bursts into tears and buries her face in her + hands._) + + (_Rushing to her_). Lady Windermere! + + _Lady Windermere_ (_holding out her hands to her, helplessly, as a + child might do_). Take me home. Take me home. + +Few people who witnessed that situation could have done so without being +deeply moved. It is Oscar Wilde the poet who speaks, not to the brain +but to the heart. + +Then turn from the shadow of that scene to the shimmer of the one that +follows immediately, full of smartness and _jeu d'esprit_. The sprightly +and irresponsible chatter of men of the world. + + _Dumby._ Awfully commercial, women nowadays. Our grandmothers threw + their caps over the mill, of course, but, by Jove, their + granddaughters only throw their caps over mills that can raise the + wind for them. + + _Lord Augustus._ You want to make her out a wicked woman. She is + not! + + _Cecil Graham._ Oh! wicked women bother one. Good women bore one. + That is the only difference between them. + + * * * * * + + _Dumby._ In this world there are only two tragedies. One is not + getting what one wants, and the other is getting it. The last is + much the worst, the last is a real tragedy. + + * * * * * + + _Cecil Graham._ What is a cynic? + + _Lord Darlington._ A man who knows the price of everything and the + value of nothing. + + _Cecil Graham._ And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is a man + who sees an absurd value in everything, and doesn't know the market + price of any single thing. + + * * * * * + + _Dumby._ Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes. + + * * * * * + + _Lord Windermere._ What is the difference between scandal and + gossip? + + _Cecil Graham._ Oh! gossip is charming! History is merely gossip. + But scandal is gossip made tedious by morality. Now I never + moralise. A man who moralises is usually a hypocrite, and a woman + who moralises is invariably plain. There is nothing in the whole + world so unbecoming to a woman as a Nonconformist conscience. And + most women know it, I'm glad to say. + +And so we take our leave of "Lady Windermere's Fan." + + + + +"A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE" + +(_First produced at the Haymarket Theatre by Mr Beerbohm Tree on 19th +April 1903_) + + +Perhaps of all Oscar Wilde's plays "The Woman Of No Importance" provoked +the most discussion at the time of its production. It was his second +venture in the histrionic field, and people expected much. They felt +that he should now be finding his feet, that whatever shortcomings, from +the point of view of stagecraft, there may have been in "Lady +Windermere's Fan," should now be made good. His first comedy was a +well-constructed play of plot and incidents. But now, expectation rose +high, and required of the author something better, something greater, +something more considerable than what he had achieved before. How far +were these expectations realised? How did the first-night audience of +public, and critics, receive the new play? It must be confessed it was +with a feeling akin to disappointment. People at first were undeniably +disconcerted. They had come prepared to witness drama, possibly of +stirring interest, and what they heard was dialogue of brilliant +quality, indeed, but which, up to a certain point, had little to do in +forwarding the action of the piece. It was a surprise, and, to most of +them, a not altogether grateful one. And it came in the first act. Here +the author had actually been bold enough to defy popular traditions, and +to place his characters seated in a semicircle uttering epigram after +epigram, and paradox upon paradox, without any regard to whatever plot +there might be; for it is not until the curtain is about to fall that we +get an indication, for the first time, that something is going to happen +in the next act. Here was an upset indeed! A subversion of all +preconceived ideas as to how a play should begin! "Words! words!" they +muttered captiously, although the words were as the pearls and diamonds +that fell from the mouth of the maiden in the fairy tale. And so on, +through scene after scene, until we come to the unexpected meeting of +Lord Illingworth with the woman he had, long ago, betrayed and +abandoned. Then quickly follows the pathetic interview between mother +and son, culminating in Mrs Arbuthnot's confession that the man who +would befriend her son is no other than his own father, to whom he +should owe nothing, save the disgrace of his birth, leading up to the +_scene-a-faire_ in the final act, where Lord Illingworth's offer to make +reparation to the woman he has wronged is acknowledged by a blow across +the face. Here at last was drama, treated in the right spirit, and of an +emotional value that cannot be too highly recognised. But the shock of +the earlier acts had been a severe one, and it took all the intense +human interest of the last two acts to atone for the outraged +conventions of the two first. It speaks volumes of praise for the +playwright's powers that he was enabled to carry his work to a +successful issue, and secure for it a long run. And not only that, but +to stand the critical test of revival. For, at the moment of writing +these words, Mr Tree has reproduced "The Woman Of No Importance" at His +Majesty's Theatre, which is crowded, night after night, with audiences +eager to bring a posthumous tribute to the genius of the author. + +_Apropos_ of the first act where all the _dramatis personae_ are seated +in a semicircle engaged only in conversation, and which was likened, on +the occasion of the first production of the play, by an eminent critic +to "Christy Minstrelism Crystallised," it may not be uninteresting to +note, _en passant_, a similar arrangement of characters in a play of Mr +Bernard Shaw's recently performed at the Court Theatre. This is called +"Don Juan in Hell"--the dream from "Man and Superman"--mercifully +omitted when that play was produced. It had nothing whatever to do with +the comedy in which it was included, but is a Niagara of ideas, clumsily +put together, and is more or less an exposition of the Shawian +philosophy. + +"Hear the result"--I quote from the critique in one of our leading +journals--"The curtain rose at half-past two on a darkened stage draped +in black. Enter, in turn, Don Juan, Dona Ana de Ulloa, the statue of her +father, and the devil. They sat down, and for an hour and a half +delivered those opinions of Mr Shaw with which we are all so terribly +familiar. Every now and then there was a laugh, as, for example, when +Don Juan said: 'Wherever ladies are is hell,' or, again, when he said: +'Have you ever had servants who were not devils?' It was all supposed to +be very funny and very naughty, of course, especially when the statue +said to Don Juan: 'If you dwelt in heaven, as I do, you would realise +your advantages.' And so on, and so on, _ad nauseum_." + +See now, how the parallel scene of "only talk" as written by Oscar Wilde +was noticed upon its revival the other day. I quote from another +journal. "Let all that can be urged against this play be granted. None +the less is it worth watching the _dramatis personae_ do nothing, so long +as the mind may be tickled by this unscrupulous, fastidious wit. And, +even if all the characters speak in the same accents of paradox, their +moods, the essentials of them, are differentiated with a brilliancy of +expression which condones the lack of dramatic movement. These things, +alone, evoke my gratitude to Mr Tree for reviving so interesting and +individual a comedy.... For even those utterances which seem to be mere +phraseological inversions are fraught with much wisdom, and the major +part of the dialogue reflects the mind of a subtle and daring social +observer." And it was this "mind," keen of observation, and equipped +with no ordinary wit, that dominates an audience and compels them to +sit, as it were, spellbound before the demonstration of the power of its +unique personality. I am informed that, to-day, in Germany, the only two +modern English dramatists who are listened to are Oscar Wilde and +Bernard Shaw--the poet and the proser. Truly may it be remarked: "_Les +extremes se touchent_." + +The story of "The Woman Of No Importance" is quickly told. + +Lord Illingworth, a cynical _roue_, has, in his youth, betrayed a too +trusting young lady, who, in consequence, gave birth to a son, by her +named Gerald. When the play begins this young fellow is nineteen years +old, and has, most hopelessly it would seem, fallen in love with an +American heiress whose name is Hester Worsley. He is living with his +mother, called Mrs Arbuthnot, at a quiet country village, where also +resides Lady Hunstanton, who acts as hostess to all the smart Society +folk who appear upon the scene, and among whom Lord Illingworth is the +most prominent. His lordship, ignorant of their real relationship, has +taken a fancy to Gerald, and offers him a private secretaryship. +Whereupon his future prospects brighten up considerably. But when Mrs +Arbuthnot discovers that Lord Illingworth is no other than the man who +had wronged her, she does all in her power to persuade her (and his) son +to refuse the offer, and, driven to extremity in her distress, tells +Gerald her own history, as that of another woman. Her efforts are +futile. The boy only says that the woman must have been as bad as the +man, and that, as far as he can see, Lord Illingworth is now a very good +fellow, and so he means to stick to him. Consequently, when his lordship +insists upon Gerald keeping to the bargain, and reminds his mother that +the boy will be her "judge as well as her son," should the truth of her +past be brought to light, Mrs Arbuthnot is induced to hold it still +secret. Unfortunately for this secret, Mrs Allonby, one of Lady +Hunstanton's guests, has goaded Lord Illingworth into promising to kiss +Miss Hester Worsley. This he does, much to the disgust of the fair +Puritan, who loudly announces that she has been insulted. Gerald's eyes +are suddenly opened to Lord Illingworth's turpitude, and with the +unbridled passion of the headstrong lover cries out that he will kill +him! Which, apparently, he would have done, had not Mrs Arbuthnot +stepped forward, and to everybody's surprise intervened with the +dramatic: "No--he is your father!" + +_Tableau._ In the final act Hester Worsley, now that she knows Mrs +Arbuthnot, and is determined in spite of all to marry Gerald, solves +every difficulty by carrying off the mother and son to her home in the +New World, where we may presume the young couple marry, and live happily +ever afterwards. Before her departure from England, however, Mrs +Arbuthnot, maddened by the cynical offer of tardy reparation by marriage +on the part of Lord Illingworth, strikes him across the face with a +glove, and at the end of the play alludes to him as "a man of no +importance"; which balances his earlier description of her as "a woman +of no importance." + +As I have pointed out elsewhere, many of the epigrams in this play were +lifted bodily from "The Picture of Dorian Gray," but after these are +eliminated there remain enough to establish the reputation of any +dramatist as a wit and epigrammatist of the very first rank. Much would +be forgiven for one definition alone, that of the foxhunter--"the +unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable." And Sheridan himself might +envy the pronouncement that "the youth of America is its oldest +tradition." + +But apart from brilliant repartee and amusing paradox, the piece is full +of passages of rare beauty and moments of touching pathos. Hester +Worsley's speech anent Society, which she describes as being "like a +leper in purple," "a dead thing smeared with gold," is as finely +written a piece of declamation as any actress could desire, apart from +its high literary qualities; and Mrs Arbuthnot's confession to her boy +and her appeal to him for mercy are conceived in a spirit of delicacy +and reticence that only the highest art can attain. Her pathetic +peroration: "Child of my shame, be still the child of my shame," touches +the deepest chords of human sorrow and anguish. With a masterly +knowledge of what the theatre requires, he gives us Hester at the +beginning of the play inveighing against any departure from the moral +code and quoting the Old Testament anent the sins of the father being +visited on the children. "It is God's law," she ends up--"it is God's +terrible law." Later, when she begs Mrs Arbuthnot to come away to other +climes, "where there are green valleys and fresh waters" and the poor +woman for whom the world is shrivelled to a palm's breadth confronts her +with her own pronouncement, how beautifully introduced is her +recantation: "Don't say that, God's law is only love." It has been +objected to Hester that she is a prig, but no girl could be a prig who +could utter a sentiment like that. She is a fine specimen of the +girlhood of the late nineteenth century, travelled, cultured, frank, and +fearless, and above all pure. In the artificial atmosphere of +Hunstanton, where the guests are all mere worldlings, her purity and +goodness stand out in high relief. If there is a prig it is Gerald who, +whether he be listening to Lord Illingworth's worldly teaching as to "a +well-tied tie being the first serious step in life," or hearing the +story of his mother's sin, is a singularly uninteresting and commonplace +young man. As to the other characters they are all admirable sketches of +Society folk. Lady Caroline Pontefract tyrannising over her husband and +making that gay old gentleman put on his goloshes and muffler is a +delightful type of those old-fashioned _grandes dames_ who have the +peerage at their fingers' ends. Nothing could be more delightfully +characteristic than her opining, when Hester tells her that some of the +States of America are as big as France and England put together, that +they must find it very draughty. Lady Hunstanton too, who prattles away +about everybody and everything and gets mixed up in all her statements, +as for instance, when referring to somebody as a clergyman who wanted to +be a lunatic, she is uncertain if it was not a lunatic who wanted to be +a clergyman, but who at anyrate wore straws in his hair or something +equally odd, is drawn with a fidelity to nature that shows what a really +great student of character Oscar Wilde was. No less admirable a +portrayal is that of the worldly archdeacon whose wife is almost blind, +quite deaf and a confirmed invalid, yet, nevertheless, is quite happy, +for though she can no longer hear his sermons she reads them at home. +He it is whom Lord Illingworth shocks so profoundly, first by his +assertion that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future, and +finally by the flippant remark that the secret of life is to be always +on the lookout for temptations, which are becoming so exceedingly scarce +that he sometimes passes a whole day without coming across one. As +literature alone, the play deserves to live, and will live, as a _piece +de theatre_. It has met with more success than any play of the first +class within the last twenty years. The reason for that is not far to +seek--it is essentially human, and the woman's interest--the keynote of +the story--appeals to man and woman equally. I have seen rough +Lancashire audiences, bucolic boors in small country towns, and dour +hard-headed Scotsmen, sit spellbound as the story of the woman's sin and +her repentance was unfolded before them. A play that can do that is +imperishable, and it is no disparagement to the other brilliant dramatic +works of the author that, as a popular play which will ever find favour +with audiences of every class and kind, on account of its human interest +and its pathos, "A Woman Of No Importance" is certain of immortality. + + + + +"THE IDEAL HUSBAND" + +(_First produced at the Haymarket Theatre, under the management of Mr +Lewis Waller and Mr H. H. Morell on 3rd January 1895_) + + +This, the third of Oscar Wilde's plays in their order of production, is +undoubtedly the most dramatic. The action is rapid, the interest of the +story sustained to the very end, and the dialogue always to the point. +Each of the principal characters concerned in the carrying out of the +plot is a distinct individualised type. What each one says or does is +entirely in keeping with his, or her, personality. And that personality +is in each case a well-marked and skilfully drawn one. The four +_personae_ who are engaged in conducting the intrigue of this comedy are +Sir Robert Chiltern, Lady Chiltern (his wife), Lord Goring, and Mrs +Cheveley. A charming _ingenue_ in the person of Miss Mabel Chiltern (Sir +Robert's sister) is also instrumental in bringing the love-interest to a +happy hymeneal issue. The author of their being has handed down to us, +in his own inimitable way, his conception of them. Here it is: + +"_Sir Robert Chiltern._ A man of forty, but looking somewhat younger. +Clean-shaven, with finely-cut features, dark-haired and dark-eyed. A +personality of mark. Not popular--few personalities are. But intensely +admired by the few, and deeply respected of the many. The note of his +manner is that of perfect distinction, with a slight touch of pride. One +feels that he is conscious of the success he has made in life. A nervous +temperament, with a tired look. The firmly-chiselled mouth and chin +contrast strikingly with the romantic expression in the deep-set eyes. +The variance is suggestive of an almost complete separation of passion +and intellect, as though thought and emotion were each isolated in its +own sphere through some violence of will-power. There is no nervousness +in the nostrils, and in the pale, thin, pointed hands. It would be +inaccurate to call him picturesque. Picturesqueness cannot survive the +House of Commons. But Vandyck would have liked to paint his head." + +Of _Lady Chiltern_ we do not get more than that she is "a woman of grave +Greek beauty about twenty-seven years of age." + +This is _Lord Goring_: "Thirty-four, but always says he is younger. A +well-bred expressionless face. He is clever, but would not like to be +thought so. A flawless dandy, he would be annoyed if he were considered +romantic. He plays with life, and is on perfectly good terms with the +world. He is fond of being misunderstood. It gives him a post of +vantage." + +_Mrs Cheveley_, the _ame damee_ of the plot, is thus portrayed: "Tall, +and rather slight. Lips very thin and highly coloured, a line of scarlet +on a pallid face. Venetian red hair, aquiline nose, a long throat. Rouge +accentuates the natural paleness of her complexion. Grey-green eyes that +move restlessly. She is in heliotrope, with diamonds. She looks rather +like an orchid, and makes great demands on one's curiosity. In all her +movements she is extremely graceful. A work of art on the whole, but +showing the influence of too many schools." + +In these delicious word-pictures we gain for once an idea as to how the +author considered his characters, both physically and psychically. It is +interesting to note that of the four published plays this is the only +one in which such intimate directions are to be found. Was the author, +for once in a way, allowing himself a measure of poetic licence, and +giving free but eminently unpractical play to his imagination? Who may +tell? At anyrate, however high he may have soared in his requirements of +the performers, he comes down steadily to earth in his management of the +plot, which is acted out on these lines. + +In the first act we find Lady Chiltern, whose husband is Under-Secretary +for Foreign Affairs, giving a party at her house in Grosvenor Square. +Here, among other fashionable folk who flit across the scene, we are +introduced to Lord Goring, between whom and Mabel Chiltern there is +evidently a more or less serious flirtation going on, especially on the +young lady's side. Shortly after his first entrance Lord Goring +"saunters over to Mabel Chiltern." + + _Mabel Chiltern._ You are very late! + + _Lord Goring._ Have you missed me? + + _Mabel Chiltern._ Awfully! + + _Lord Goring._ Then I am sorry I did not stay away longer. I like + being missed. + + _Mabel Chiltern._ How very selfish of you. + + _Lord Goring._ I am very selfish. + + _Mabel Chiltern._ You are always telling me of your bad qualities, + Lord Goring. + + _Lord Goring._ I have only told you half of them as yet, Miss + Mabel.... + + _Mabel Chiltern._ Well, I delight in your bad qualities. I wouldn't + have you part with one of them. + + _Lord Goring._ How very nice of you! But then you are always nice. + By the way, I want to ask you a question, Miss Mabel. Who brought + Mrs Cheveley here? That woman in heliotrope who has just gone out + of the room with your brother? + + _Mabel Chiltern._ Oh, I think Lady Markby brought her. Why do you + ask? + + _Lord Goring._ I hadn't seen her for years, that is all. + +But Lord Goring did not say, of course, all he knew about the brilliant +Mrs Cheveley, who is very _repondue_ in the diplomatic world at Vienna, +and has, in her day, been the heroine of much pretty gossip. The object +of her present visit to London is to obtain an introduction to Sir +Robert Chiltern, and it is when they first meet that the dramatic +interest of the story commences. The lady, it appears, has invested +largely, too largely, in a great political and financial scheme called +the Argentine Canal Company, acting on the advice of a certain Baron +Arnheim, now dead, who was also a friend of Sir Robert Chiltern's. When +Mrs Cheveley informs Sir Robert what her position is, he denounces the +scheme as "a commonplace Stock Exchange swindle." + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ Believe me, Mrs Cheveley, it is a + swindle.... I sent out a special commission to inquire into the + matter privately and they report that the works are hardly begun, + and as for the money already subscribed, no one seems to know what + has become of it. + +A little later on he says "the success of the Canal depends of course on +the attitude of England, and I am going to lay the report of the +Commissioners before the House of Commons." + + _Mrs Cheveley._ That you must not do. In your own interests, Sir + Robert, to say nothing of mine, you must not do that. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ (_Looking at her in wonder._) In my own + interests? My dear Mrs Cheveley, what do you mean? (_Sits down + beside her._) + + _Mrs Cheveley._ Sir Robert, I will be quite frank with you. I want + you to withdraw the report that you had intended to lay before the + House, on the ground that you have reason to believe that the + Commissioners had been prejudiced or misinformed or something.... + Will you do that for me? (_Naturally Sir Robert is indignant at the + proposition, and proposes to call the lady's carriage for her._) + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ You have lived so long abroad, Mrs Cheveley, + that you seem to be unable to realise that you are talking to an + English gentleman. + + _Mrs Cheveley._ (_Detains him by touching his arm with her fan, and + keeping it there while she is talking._) I realise that I am + talking to a man who laid the foundation of his fortune by selling + to a Stock Exchange speculator a Cabinet secret. + +This is unfortunately only too true. For, years ago, when secretary to +Lord Radley, "a great important minister," Sir Robert has written to +Baron Arnheim a letter telling the Baron to buy Suez Canal shares--a +letter written three days before the Government announced its own +purchase, and which letter also is in Mrs Cheveley's possession! Here is +a fine situation with a vengeance! By threatening to publish the scandal +and the proofs of it in some leading newspaper, Mrs Cheveley induces the +unfortunate Sir Robert to consent to withdraw the report, and state in +the House that he believes there are possibilities in the scheme. In +return for which she will give him back the compromising letter. So far, +so good. She has won her cause. But, true woman as she is, she cannot +conceal her triumph from Lady Chiltern as she is leaving the party. + + _Lady Chiltern._ Why did you wish to meet my husband, Mrs Cheveley? + + _Mrs Cheveley._ Oh, I will tell you. I wanted to interest him in + this Argentine Canal Scheme, of which I daresay you have heard. And + I found him most susceptible--susceptible to reason,--I mean. A + rare thing in a man. I converted him in ten minutes. He is going to + make a speech in the House to-morrow night, in favour of the idea. + We must go to the Ladies' Gallery and hear him. It will be a great + occasion. + +And so she goes gaily away, leaving her hostess perplexed and troubled. +But in weaving her web round the hapless husband, she had not reckoned +on the influence of the wife to disentangle it, and set the victim free. +Yet, in a finely-conceived, and equally well-written, scene this is +what actually happened. The company have all departed and they are alone +together. + + _Lady Chiltern._ Robert, it is not true, is it? You are not going + to lend your support to this Argentine speculation? You couldn't. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ (_Starting._) Who told you I intended to do + so? + + _Lady Chiltern._ That woman who has just gone out.... Robert, I + know this woman. You don't. We were at school together.... She was + sent away for being a thief. Why do you let her influence you? + +Then after much painful probing as to why he has so suddenly changed his +attitude towards the scheme, she elicits the reason. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ But if I told you---- + + _Lady Chiltern._ What? + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ That it was necessary, vitally necessary. + + _Lady Chiltern._ It can never be necessary to do what is not + honourable.... Robert, tell me why you are going to do this + dishonourable thing? + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ Gertrude, you have no right to use that + word. I told you it was a question of rational compromise. It is no + more than that. + +But Lady Chiltern is not to be so easily put off as that. Her suspicions +are aroused. She says she knows that there are "men with horrible +secrets in their lives--men who had done some shameful thing, and who, +in some critical moment, have to pay for it, by doing some other act of +shame." She asks him boldly, is he one of these? Then, driven to bay, he +tells her the one lie of his life. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ Gertrude, there is nothing in my past life + that you might not know. + +She is satisfied. But he must write a letter to Mrs Cheveley, taking +back any promise he may have given her, and that letter must be written +at once. He tries to gain time, offers to go and see Mrs Cheveley +to-morrow; it is too late to-night. But Lady Chiltern is inexorable, and +so Sir Robert yields, and the missive is despatched to Claridge's Hotel. +Then, seized with a sudden terror of what the consequences may be, he +turns, with nerves all a-quiver, to his wife, pleadingly-- + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ O, love me always, Gertrude, love me always. + + _Lady Chiltern._ I will love you always, because you will always be + worthy of love. We needs must love the highest when we see it! + (_Kisses him, rises and goes out._) + +And the curtain falls upon this intensely emotional situation. + +If I may seem to have quoted too freely from the dialogue, it is in part +to refute the charge, so often urged by the critics, that Oscar Wilde's +"talk is often an end in itself, it has no vital connection with the +particular play of which it forms a part, it might as well be put into +the mouth of one character as another...." Now in the first act of "The +Ideal Husband," when the action of the piece is being carried on at high +pressure, there is not a word of the dialogue that is not pertinent, no +sentence that is not significant. Whatever of wit the author may have +allowed himself to indulge in springs spontaneously from the woof of the +story, it is not, as was suggested in his earlier plays, "a mere +parasitic growth attached to it," in which this particular comedy under +consideration marks an immense advance on the methods of "The Woman Of +No Importance." Here is strenuous drama, treated strenuously, and +dealing with the whole gamut of human emotions. The playwright, as he +progresses in his art, does not here permit himself to endanger the +interest of the plot by any adventitious pleasantries on the part of the +characters. + +In the second act we are again in Grosvenor Square, this time in a +morning-room, where Sir Robert Chiltern and Lord Goring are discussing +the awkward state of affairs. To Lord Goring the action of Sir Robert +appears inexcusable. + + _Lord Goring._ Robert, how could you have sold yourself for money? + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ (_Excitedly._) I did not sell myself for + money. I bought success at a great price. That is all. + +Such was his point of view. Lord Goring's now is that he should have +told his wife. But Sir Robert assures him that such a confession to such +a woman would mean a lifelong separation. She must remain in ignorance. +But now the vital question is--how is he to defend himself against Mrs +Cheveley? Lord Goring answers that he must fight her. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ But how? + + _Lord Goring._ I can't tell you how at present. I have not the + smallest idea. But everyone has some weak point. There is some flaw + in each one of us. + +The conversation is interrupted by the entrance of Lady Chiltern. Sir +Robert goes out and leaves Lord Goring and his wife together. And there +follows a scene, brief, but as fine as any in the play, in which Lord +Goring endeavours to prepare Lady Chiltern very skilfully for the blow +that may possibly fall upon her. He deals in generalities: "I think +that in practical life there is something about success that is a little +unscrupulous, something about ambition that is unscrupulous always." And +again: "In every nature there are elements of weakness, or worse than +weakness. Supposing, for instance, that--that any public man, my father +or Lord Merton, or Robert, say, had, years ago, written some foolish +letter to someone...." + + _Lady Chiltern._ What do you mean by a foolish letter? + + _Lord Goring._ A letter gravely compromising one's position. I am + only putting an imaginary case. + + _Lady Chiltern._ Robert is as incapable of doing a foolish thing, + as he is of doing a wrong thing. + +She is still unshaken in the belief of her husband's rectitude. And Lord +Goring departs sorrowing, but not before he has assured her of his +friendship that would serve her in any crisis. + + _Lord Goring._ ... And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, + trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I can. If you + ever want me ... come at once to me. + +Then on the scene arrives Mrs Cheveley, accompanied by Lady Markby (for +whose amusing _bavardage_ I wish I could find space) evidently to +revenge herself somehow for her rebuff, ostensibly to inquire after a +"diamond snake-brooch with a ruby," which she has lost, probably at Lady +Chiltern's. Now the audience knows all about this "brooch-bracelet," for +has not Lord Goring found it on the sofa last night, when flirting with +Mabel Chiltern, and recognising it as an old and somewhat ominous +friend, quietly put it in his pocket, at the same time enjoining Mabel +to say nothing about the incident. So, of course, the jewel has not been +found in Grosvenor Square. But when the two women are left alone, Mrs +Cheveley discovers that it was Lady Chiltern who dictated Sir Robert's +letter to her. A bitter passage of arms occurs between them, when Lady +Chiltern discusses her adversary, who boasts herself the ally of her +husband. + + _Lady Chiltern._ How dare you class my husband with yourself?... + Leave my house. You are unfit to enter it. (_Sir Robert enters from + behind. He hears his wife's last words, and sees to whom they are + addressed. He grows deadly pale._) + + _Mrs Cheveley._ Your house! A house bought with the price of + dishonour. A house everything in which has been paid for by fraud. + (_Turns round and sees Sir Robert Chiltern._) Ask him what the + origin of his fortune is! Get him to tell you how he sold to a + stockbroker a Cabinet secret. Learn from him to what you owe your + position. + + _Lady Chiltern._ It is not true! Robert! It is not true! + +But Sir Robert cannot deny the accusation, and Mrs Cheveley departs, the +winner of the contest. The act concludes with a terrible denunciation on +the part of Sir Robert of his wife, whom he blindly accuses of having +wrecked his life, by not allowing him to accept the comfortable offer +made by Mrs Cheveley of absolute security from all future knowledge of +the sin he had committed in his youth. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ I could have killed it for ever, sent it + back into its tomb, destroyed its record, burned the one witness + against me. You prevented me.... Let women make no more ideals of + men! Let them not put them on altars and bow before them, or they + may ruin other lives as completely as you--you whom I have so + wildly loved--have ruined mine! + +Here is the sincere note of Tragedy! Surely, Oscar Wilde is among the +dramatists! + +The action of the third act takes place in the library of Lord Goring's +house. It is inspired in the very best spirit of intrigue. Lady +Chiltern, mindful of Lord Goring's friendship, has, in the first +bewilderment of her discovery, written a note to him,--"I want you. I +trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude." Lord Goring is about to make +preparations to receive her, when his father, Lord Caversham, most +inconveniently looks in to pay him a visit, the object of which is to +discuss his son's matrimonial prospects. The visit, therefore, promises +to be a lengthy one, and Lord Goring proposes they should adjourn to the +smoking-room, advising his servant, Phipps, at the same time that he is +expecting a lady to see him on particular business, and who is to be +shown, on her arrival, into the drawing-room. A lady does arrive, only +she is not Lady Chiltern, but Mrs Cheveley, who has not announced her +advent in any way. Surprised to hear that Lord Goring is expecting a +lady, and while Phipps is lighting the candles in the drawing-room, she +occupies her spare moments in running through the letters on the +writing-table, and comes across Lady Chiltern's note. Here, indeed, is +her opportunity. She is just about to purloin it, when Phipps returns, +and she slips it under a silver-cased blotting-book that is lying on the +table. She is, perforce, obliged to go into the drawing-room, from which +presently she emerges, and creeps stealthily towards the writing-table. +But suddenly voices are heard from the smoking-room, and she is +constrained to return to her hiding-place. Lord Caversham and his son +re-enter and Lord Goring puts his father's cloak on for him, and with +much relief sees him depart. But a shock is in store for him, for no +sooner has Lord Caversham vanished, than no less a personage than Sir +Robert Chiltern appears. In vain does Lord Goring try to get rid of his +most unwelcome visitor. Sir Robert has come to talk over his trouble, +and means to stay. Lady Chiltern must on no account be admitted. So he +says to Phipps: + + _Lord Goring._ When that lady calls, tell her that I am not + expected home this evening. Tell her that I have been suddenly + called out of town. You understand? + + _Phipps._ The lady is in that room, my lord. You told me to show + her into that room, my lord. + +Lord Goring realises that things are getting a little uncomfortable, and +again tries to send Sir Robert away. But Sir Robert pleads for five +minutes more. He is on his way to the House of Commons. "The debate on +the Argentine Canal is to begin at eleven." As he makes this +announcement a chair is heard to fall in the drawing-room. He suspects a +listener, and, despite Lord Goring's word of honour to the contrary, +determines to see for himself, and goes into the room, leaving Lord +Goring in a fearful state of mind. He soon returns, however, "with a +look of scorn on his face." + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ What explanation have you to give me for the + presence of that woman here? + + _Lord Goring._ Robert, I swear to you on my honour that that lady + is stainless and guiltless of all offence towards you. + + _Sir Robert Chiltern._ She is a vile, an infamous thing! + +After a few more speeches, in which the _malentendu_ is well kept up, +Sir Robert goes out, and Lord Goring rushes to the drawing-room to +meet--Mrs Cheveley. + +And now this woman is going to have another duel, but this time with an +enemy who is proof against her attacks. The whole of this scene is +imagined and written in a masterly manner. After a little airy sparring, +Lord Goring opens the match. + + _Lord Goring._ You have come here to sell me Robert Chiltern's + letter, haven't you? + + _Mrs Cheveley._ To offer it you on conditions. How did you guess + that? + + _Lord Goring._ Because you haven't mentioned the subject. Have you + got it with you? + + _Mrs Cheveley._ (_Sitting down._) Oh, no! A well-made dress has no + pockets. + + _Lord Goring._ What is your price for it? + +Then, Mrs Cheveley tells him that the price is--herself. She is tired of +living abroad, and wants to come to London and have a salon. She vows to +him that he is the only person she has ever cared for, and that on the +morning of the day he marries her she will give him Sir Robert's letter. +Naturally he refuses her offer. Naturally she is furious. But she still +possesses the incriminating document and hurls her venomous words at his +head. + + _Mrs Chiltern._ For the privilege of being your wife I was ready to + surrender a great prize, the climax of my diplomatic career. You + decline. Very well. If Sir Robert doesn't uphold my Argentine + Scheme, I expose him. _Voila tout!_ + +But he cares not for her threats. He hasn't done with her yet, for he +has got in his possession the diamond snake-brooch with a ruby! This +scene is most skilfully managed. Quite innocently he offers to return it +to her--he had found it accidentally last night. And then in a moment he +clasps it on her arm. + + _Mrs Cheveley._ I never knew it could be worn as a bracelet ... it + looks very well on me as a bracelet, doesn't it? + + _Lord Goring._ Yes, much better than when I saw it last. + + _Mrs Cheveley._ When did you see it last? + + _Lord Goring._ (_Calmly._) Oh! ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, + from whom you stole it. + +Now, he has her in his power. The bracelet cannot be unclasped unless +she knows the secret of the spring, and she is at his mercy, a convicted +thief. He moves towards the bell to summon his servant to fetch the +police. "To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you." What is she to +do? She will do anything in the world he wants. + + _Lord Goring._ Give me Robert Chiltern's letter. + + _Mrs Cheveley._ I have not got it with me. I will give it you + to-morrow. + + _Lord Goring._ You know you are lying. Give it me at once. (_Mrs + Cheveley pulls the letter out and hands it to him. She is horribly + pale._) This is it? + + _Mrs Cheveley._ (_In a hoarse voice._) Yes. + +Whereupon he burns it over the lamp. So letter number one is got out of +the way. But there is letter number two: Lady Chiltern's to Lord Goring. +The accomplished thief sees it just showing from under the +blotting-book; asks Lord Goring for a glass of water, and while his back +is turned steals it. So, though she has lost the day on one count she +has gained it on another. With a bitter note of triumph in her voice she +tells Lord Goring that she is going to send Lady Chiltern's +"love-letter" to him to Sir Robert. He tries to wrest it from her, but +she is too quick for him, and rings the electric bell. Phipps appears, +and she is safe. + + _Mrs Cheveley._ (_After a pause._) Lord Goring merely rang that you + should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring. + +And on this fine situation the curtain falls. + +Space does not permit me more than to indicate how, in the fourth and +last act, Sir Robert Chiltern has roundly denounced the Argentine Canal +Scheme in the House of Commons, and with it the whole system of modern +political finance. How Lady Chiltern's letter to Lord Goring does reach +her husband, and is by him supposed to be addressed to him. How Lady +Chiltern undeceives him, and confesses the truth. How Lord Goring +becomes engaged to Mabel, and Sir Robert Chiltern accepts, after some +hesitation, a vacant seat in the Cabinet, and peace is restored all +round. These episodes, cleverly and naturally handled, bring "The Ideal +Husband" to a satisfactory conclusion. It is certainly the most dramatic +of all Oscar Wilde's comedies, and could well bear revival. + + + + +"THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST" + + +A deliciously airily irresponsible comedy. Such is the "The Importance +Of Being Earnest," the most personally characteristic expression of +Wilde's art, and the last of the dramatic productions written under his +own name. The play bubbles over with mirth and fun. It is one unbroken +series of laughable situations and amusing surprises. The dialogue has +all the sparkle of bubbles from a gushing spring, and is brimful of +quaint conceits and diverting paradoxes. Even the genius of W. S. +Gilbert in the fantastic line pales before the irresponsible +frolicsomeness of the Irishman's wit. His fancy disports itself in an +atmosphere of epigrams like a young colt in a meadow. Never since the +days of Sheridan has anything been written to equal the brilliancy of +this trifle for serious people. No one could fail to be amused by its +delicate persiflage, its youthfulness and its utter irresponsibility. + +Were one to take the works of Gyp, Gilbert, Henri Lavedan and Sheridan +and roll them into one, one would not even then obtain the essence of +sparkling comedy that animates the play. It is a trifle, but how clever, +how artistically perfect a trifle. When it was produced at the St +James's, in February 1895, one continuous ripple of laughter shook the +audience, even as a field of standing corn is swayed by a passing +breeze. The reading of the play alone makes one feel frivolous, and when +the characters stood before one, suiting the action to the word and the +word to the action, the effect was absolutely irresistible and even the +gravest and most slow-witted were moved to rollicking hilarity. One +critic summed it up by saying that "its title was a pun, its story a +conundrum, its characters lunatics, its dialogue a 'galimatias,' and its +termination a 'sell.' Questioned as to its merits, Wilde was credited +with saying that "The first act was ingenious, the second beautiful, the +third abominably clever." It was most beautifully staged by Mr George +Alexander, and I can see still the charming picture presented by Miss +Millard in the delightful garden scene as she watered her rose bushes +with a water-can filled with silver sand. The acting, too, left nothing +to be desired and altogether it was a performance to linger in one's +memory in the years to come. + +The Ernest of the punning title is an imaginary brother, very wicked and +gay, invented by John Worthing, J.P., to account to his ward (Cecily +Cardew) for his frequent visits to London. John Worthing, it may be +mentioned, is a foundling who was discovered when a baby in the +cloak-room at a railway station inside a black bag stamped with the +initials of the absent-minded governess who had inadvertently placed him +in it instead of the manuscript of a three-volume novel. Now, Worthing +has a friend, a gay young dog, named Alexander Moncrieffe who likewise +has invented a fictitious personage, a sick friend, visits to whom he +makes serve as the reason of his absences from home. He has given this +imaginary friend the name of Bunbury, and designates his little +expeditions as "Bunburying." Moncrieffe lives in town, and is more or +less the model Worthing has chosen when describing his imaginary +brother. Worthing's ward is a romantic girl who has fallen in love with +her guardian's brother from his descriptions of him. She is especially +enamoured of his name, Ernest, for like old Mr Shandy she has quite +pronounced views and opinions about names. Now, the reason of Worthing's +constant visits to town is to see a young lady yclept Gwendolen Fairfax, +a cousin of Moncrieffe's, to whom he proposes and is accepted, but, for +some unexplained reason, for his periodical visits to town he adopts the +name of Ernest, so that Gwendolen, who, like Cecily, has distinctive +ideas about names, only knows him by that name. So it will be seen that +we have already two Ernests in the field--the imaginary brother whose +moral delinquencies are such a cause of worry to Cecily's guardian, and +the guardian himself masquerading as Ernest Worthing. A pretty +combination for complications to start with, but the author strews +Ernest about with a prodigality that excites our admiration, and he +gives us a third Ernest in the person of Alexander Moncrieffe, who, +learning that his friend is left alone at home, and that she is +extremely beautiful, determines to go down and make love to her. In +order to gain admittance to the house, he passes himself off as Ernest +Worthing, the imaginary naughty brother, and is warmly welcomed by +Cecily. In ten minutes he has wooed and won her, and the happy pair +disappear into the house just before John Worthing arrives on the scene. +Now that he has proposed and been accepted there is no longer any +necessity for inventing an excuse for his absences from home, and in +order to be rid of what might prove to be an embarrassing, although a +purely fictitious, person, he has invented a story of his putative +brother's death in Paris. He enters dressed in complete black, black +frock-coat, black tie, black hatband, and black-bordered handkerchief. +There follows a delightful comedy scene between him and Algernon, whose +imposture he cannot expose without betraying himself. Meanwhile, +Gwendolen has followed her sweetheart to make the acquaintance of +Cecily, and now arrives _en scene_. The two girls become bosom friends +at once, and all goes happily until the name of Ernest Worthing is +mentioned, and although no such person exists yet each of them imagines +herself to be engaged to him. The situation is, to use a theatrical +slang term, "worked up," and the young ladies pass from terms of +endearment to mutual recriminations. A pitched battle is on the tapis, +but with the appearance of their lovers, and their enforced explanation, +peace is restored between the two, and they join forces in annihilating +with scathing word and withering look the wretches who have so basely +deceived them. Never, never could either of them love a man whose name +was not Ernest. Each of them was engaged to Ernest Worthing, but, in the +words of the immortal Betsy Prig when referring to Mrs 'Arris, "There +ain't no sich person." + +The situation is embarrassing and complicated. The two delinquents offer +to have themselves rechristened, but the suggestion is received with +withering scorn; the situation cannot be saved by any such ridiculous +subterfuge; the disconsolate wretches seek consolation in an orgy of +crumpets and tea cakes. Another difficulty there is also, Lady +Bracknell--Gwendolen's mother--refuses to accept as her son-in-law a +nameless foundling found in a railway station. However, the production +of the bag leads to the discovery of his parentage, and it turns out +that his father was the husband of Lady Bracknell's sister. The question +of his father's Christian name is raised, as it is thought probable that +he was christened after him, and although Lady Bracknell cannot remember +the name of the brother-in-law a reference to the Army List results in +the discovery that it was Ernest, so that both the difficulties of birth +and nomenclature are now overcome. As to Algernon, he is forgiven +because he explains that his imposture was undertaken solely to see +Cecily, and so the comedy ends happily as all good comedies should. + +The piece is one mass of smart sayings, brilliant epigrams, and +mirth-provoking lines, as when Miss Prism, Cecily's governess, tells her +pupil to study political economy for an hour, but to omit, as too +exciting, the depreciation of the rupee. Some of the most delightful +sayings are put into the mouth of Lady Bracknell, the aristocratic +dowager who is responsible for the dictum that what the age suffers from +is want of principle and want of profile. Miss Prism too enunciates the +aphorism that "Memory is the diary we all carry about with us," and +Cecily naively informs us that "I keep a diary to enter the wonderful +secrets of my life. If I didn't write them down I would probably forget +all about them." There is also a delicious touching of feminine +amenities when, during the quarrel scene, Gwendolen says to Cecily, "I +speak quite candidly--I wish that you were thirty-five and more than +usually plain for your age." No woman could have written better. Even +the love passages are replete with humorous lines. Cecily passing her +hand through Moncrieffe's hair remarks, "I hope your hair curls +naturally," and with amusing candour comes his reply, "Yes, darling, +with a little help from others." The servants themselves are infected +with the prevailing atmosphere of frivolity. Moncrieffe apostrophising +his valet exclaims, "Lane, you're a perfect pessimist," and that +imperturbable individual replies, "I do my best to give satisfaction." +Again, when he remarks on the fact that though he had only two friends +to dinner on the previous day and yet eight bottles of champagne appear +to have been drunk, the impeccable servant corrects him with, "Eight and +a pint, sir," and in reply to his question, how is it that servants +drink more in bachelors' chambers than in private houses, the discreet +valet explains that it is because the wines are better, adding that you +do get some very poor wine nowadays in private houses. + +"What is the use of the lower classes unless they set us a good +example?" "Divorces are made in heaven," "To have lost one parent is a +misfortune, to have lost both looks like carelessness," and "I am only +serious about my amusements," are samples taken haphazard of the good +things in the play. + +It has been objected that the piece is improbable, but it was described +by the author merely as "a trivial comedy for serious people." As a +contributor to _The Sketch_ so aptly put it at the time, "Why carp at +improbability in what is confessedly the merest bubble of fancy? Why not +acknowledge honestly a debt of gratitude to one who adds so unmistakably +to the gaiety of the nation?" + +The press were almost unanimous in their appreciation of the comedy. +_The Athenaeum's_ critic wrote, "The mantle of Mr Gilbert has fallen on +the shoulders of Mr Oscar Wilde, who wears it in jauntiest fashion." And +_The Times_ is responsible for the statement that "almost every sentence +of the dialogue bristles with epigram of the now accepted pattern, the +manufacture of this being apparently conducted by its patentee with the +same facility as 'the butter-woman's rank to market.'" But more +flattering still was the appreciation of the _Truth_ critic whose +previous attitude to Wilde's work had been a hostile one. + +"I have not the slightest intention of seriously criticising Mr O. +Wilde's piece at the St James's," he writes, under the heading of "The +Importance Of Being Oscar," "as well might one sit down after dinner +and attempt gravely to discuss the true inwardness of a _souffle_. Nor, +unfortunately, is it necessary to enter into details as to its wildly +farcical plot. As well might one, after a successful display of +fireworks in the back garden, set to work laboriously to analyse the +composition of a Catherine Wheel. At the same time I wish to admit, +fairly and frankly, that 'The Importance Of Being Earnest' amused me +very much." + +It is, however, since the author's death that the great body of critics +have emitted the opinion that the play is really an extremely clever +piece of work and a valuable contribution to the English drama. So many +pieces are apt to get _demodes_ in a few years, but now, twelve years +after its production, "The Importance Of Being Earnest" is as fresh as +ever, and does not date, as ladies say of their headgear. To compare the +blatant nonsense that Mr Bernard Shaw foists on a credulous public as +wit with the coruscating _bon mots_ of his dead compatriot, as seems to +be the fashion nowadays, is to show a pitiful lack of intelligence and +discernment; as well compare gooseberry wine to champagne, the fountains +in Trafalgar Square to Niagara. + + + + +PART III + +THE ROMANTIC DRAMAS + + + + +"SALOME" + + +Of all Wilde's plays the one that has provoked the greatest discussion +and most excited the curiosity of the public is undoubtedly "Salome," +which, written originally in French and then translated into English, +has finally been performed in two Continents. + +Never perhaps has a play, at its inception, had less of a chance than +this Biblical tragedy written for a French Jewess (Madame Sarah +Bernhardt) banned by the English Censor and only produced after the +disgrace and consequent downfall of its author. From Salome's first +speech to the end of the play we realise how the little part was +absolutely identified in the author's mind with the actress he had +written it for. To anyone who has studied, however superficially, Madame +Bernhardt's peculiar methods of diction and acting, the words in the +first speech--"I will not stay, I cannot stay. Why does the Tetrarch +look at me all the while with his mole's eyes under his shaking +eyelids?" convey at once a picture of the actress in the part. If there +is a fault to be found with the character it is that Bernhardt not +Salome is depicted, and yet who shall say that there is much difference +between the temperaments or the physique of the two women. It is true +that, in a letter to _The Times_, the author strenuously denied that he +had written the play for Sarah, but one is inclined to take the denial +with a very big grain of salt. That while in detention Wilde made most +strenuous efforts to get her to produce it is a well-known fact. + +The play, as even Macaulay's schoolboy knows, is based on the story of +Herodias' daughter dancing before Herod for the head of John the +Baptist. + +An account of the episode is to be found in the 6th chapter of the +Gospel of St Mark, and it is interesting to contrast the strong and +simple Scriptural description with the highly decorative and glowing +language of the play. + +Here is St Mark's account of the incident: + + v. 21. And when a convenient day was come, that Herod on his + birthday made a supper to his lords, high captains and chief + _estates_ of Galilee; + + v. 22. And when the daughter of the said Herodias came in, and + danced, and pleased Herod and them that sat with him, the king said + unto the damsel, Ask of me whatsoever thou wilt, and I will give + _it_ thee. + + v. 23. And he sware unto her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I + will give _it_ thee, unto the half of my kingdom. + + v. 24. And she went forth, and said unto her mother, What shall I + ask? And she said, The head of John the Baptist. + + v. 25. And she came in straightway with haste unto the king, and + asked, saying, I will that thou give me by and by in a charger the + head of John the Baptist. + + v. 26. And the king was exceeding sorry; _yet_ for his oath's sake, + and for their sakes which sat with him, he would not reject her. + + v. 27. And immediately the king sent an executioner, and commanded + his head to be brought: and he went and beheaded him in the prison, + + v. 28. And brought his head in a charger, and gave it to the + damsel: and the damsel gave it to her mother. + + v. 29. And when his disciples heard _of it_, they came and took up + his corpse, and laid it in a tomb. + +The account given by St Matthew (xiv. 6) is equally terse, but the +fuller description of the scene as reconstructed by Dean Farrar in his +"Life of Christ" is worth quoting. + + "But Herodias had craftily provided the king with an unexpected and + exciting pleasure, the spectacle of which would be sure to + enrapture such guests as his. Dancers and dancing-women were at + that time in great request. The passion for witnessing these too + often degrading representations had naturally made its way into the + Sadducean and semi-pagan court of these usurping Edomites, and + Herod the Great had built in his palace, a theatre for the + Thymelici. A luxurious feast of the period was not regarded as + complete unless it closed with some gross pantomimic + representation; and doubtless Herod had adopted the evil fashion of + his day. But he had not anticipated for his guests the rare luxury + of seeing a princess--his own great-niece, a granddaughter of Herod + the Great and of Mariamne, a descendant, therefore, of Simon the + High Priest and the line of Maccabaean princes--a princess who + afterwards became the wife of a tetrarch and the mother of a + king--honouring them by degrading herself into a scenic dancer. Yet + when the banquet was over, when the guests were full of meat and + flushed with wine, Salome herself, the daughter of Herodias, then + in the prime of her young and lustrous beauty, executed, as it + would now be expressed, a _pas seul_ 'in the midst of' those + dissolute and half-intoxicated revellers. 'She came in and danced, + and pleased Herod, and them that sat at meat with him.' And he, + like another Xerxes, in the delirium of his drunken approval, swore + to this degraded girl, in the presence of his guests, that he would + give her anything for which she asked, even to the half of his + kingdom. + + "The girl flew to her mother, and said, 'What shall I ask?' It was + exactly what Herodias expected, and she might have asked for robes, + or jewels, or palaces, or whatever such a woman loves. But to a + mind like hers revenge was sweeter than wealth or pride. We may + imagine with what fierce malice she hissed out the answer, 'The + head of John the Baptiser.' And coming in before the king + _immediately with haste_--(what a touch is that! and how apt a + pupil did the wicked mother find in her wicked daughter!)--Salome + exclaimed, 'My wish is that you give _me here, immediately_, on a + dish, the head of John the Baptist.' Her indecent haste, her + hideous petition, show that she shared the furies of her race. Did + she think that in that infamous period, and among those infamous + guests, her petition would be received with a burst of laughter? + Did she hope to kindle their merriment to a still higher pitch by + the sense of the delightful wickedness involved in a young and + beautiful girl asking--nay, imperiously demanding--that then and + there, on one of the golden dishes which graced the board, should + be given into her own hands the gory head of the Prophet whose + words had made a thousand bold hearts quail? + + "If so, she was disappointed. The tetrarch, at anyrate, was plunged + into grief by her request; it more than did away with the pleasure + of her disgraceful dance; it was a bitter termination of his + birthday feast. Fear, policy, remorse, superstition, even whatever + poor spark of better feeling remained unquenched under the white + ashes of a heart consumed by evil passions, made him shrink in + disgust from this sudden execution. He must have felt that he had + been duped out of his own will by the cunning stratagem of his + unrelenting paramour. If a single touch of manliness had been left + in him he would have repudiated the request as one which did not + fall either under the letter or the spirit of his oaths, since the + life of one cannot be made the gift to another; or he would have + boldly declared that if such was her choice, his oath was more + honoured by being kept. But a despicable pride and fear of man + prevailed over his better impulses. More afraid of the criticisms + of his guests than of the future torment of such conscience as was + left him, he sent an executioner to the prison, which in all + probability was not far from the banqueting hall--and so, at the + bidding of a dissolute coward and to please the loathly fancies of + a shameless girl, the axe fell, and the head of the noblest of the + prophets was shorn away. In darkness and in secrecy the scene was + enacted, and if any saw it their lips were sealed; but the + executioner emerged into the light carrying by the hair that noble + head, and then and there, in all the pallor of the recent death, it + was placed upon a dish from the royal table. The girl received it, + and, now frightful as a Megaera, carried the hideous burden to her + mother. Let us hope that those grim features haunted the souls of + both thenceforth till death. + + "What became of that ghastly relic we do not know. Tradition tells + us that Herodias ordered the headless trunk to be flung out over + the battlements for dogs and vultures to devour. On her, at + anyrate, swift vengeance fell." + +In a footnote the Dean mentions that Salome subsequently married her +uncle Philip, Tetrarch of Ituraea, and then her cousin Aristobulus, King +of Chalcis, by whom she became the mother of three sons. The traditional +death of the "dancing daughter of Herodias" is thus given by Nicephorus. +"Passing over a frozen lake, the ice broke and she fell up to the neck +in water, and her head was parted from her body by the violence of the +fragments shaken by the water and her own fall, and so she perished." + +Thus the historical accounts, now for the play itself. To begin with, +let us note the stage directions. "A great terrace in the palace of +Herod set above the banqueting hall. To the right there is a gigantic +staircase, to the left, at the back, an old cistern surrounded by a wall +of green bronze. Moonlight." + +These directions for the setting of the stage are for all practical +purposes useless--they would drive the most experienced stage-manager +crazy, but then Wilde, more particularly in the romantic dramas, was +sublimely indifferent to the mere mechanical side of stagecraft. He +issued his commands and it was for the _gens du metier_ to give +practical effect to them. He had the picture in his mind; what matter if +there were practical difficulties in the way of producing it! That was +no fault of his. It is curious to contrast his stage directions with +those of a practical playwright like Shakespeare. Shakespeare, for +instance, would have simply written "soldiers leaning over a balcony." +There is a whole chapter of difference in the introduction of the word +"some." + +The time is night, that wonderful Judaean night, when the air is charged +with electricity and the mysterious heart of the East throbs with the +varied emotions of the centuries. "Moonlight," says the directions, and +here we recall the author's almost passionate worship of moonlight. Over +and over again in play, prose, essay, and verse, he writes about the +moon. She possessed an almost uncanny attraction for him, and one almost +wonders whether the superstition connecting certain phases of the planet +with the madness of human beings may not account for a good deal that +remains unexplained in the erratic career of this unfortunate genius! + +A young Syrian, the "Captain of the Guard," is talking with the page of +Herodias. From a subsequent description we learn that he was handsome +with the dark languorous eyes of his nation, and that his voice was soft +and musical. He is in love with the Princess Salome, the daughter of +Herodias, wife of the Tetrarch of Judaea, Herod Antipas, and his talk is +all of her and her beauty. The page, who seems to stand in great fear +of his mistress and to be likewise oppressed with a foreboding of coming +evil, tries to divert his attention to the moon, but in the moon the +enamoured Syrian sees only an image of his beloved. Then the page +strikes the first deep note of tragedy. To him she is like a dead woman. +A noise is heard, and the soldiers comment on it and its cause--namely, +the religious dissensions of the Jews. At this the young Syrian, +heedless of all else, breaks in once more like a Greek chorus in praise +of the Princess's beauty. (One can almost hear an imaginary Polonius +exclaiming: "Still harping on my daughter.") Again the page utters a +warning against the Captain's infatuation. He is certain that something +terrible may happen. + +As if to confirm his fears the two soldiers begin discussing the +Tetrarch's sombre looks. Plain, uncultured fellows these Roman soldiers, +and yet, like most of the legionaries, they have travelled far afield as +may be gathered from their talk of Herod's various wives. A Cappadocian +joins in their conversation. He is completely _terre a terre_ and cannot +understand anything but the obvious. The talk drifts on to religion, and +then suddenly the voice of John the Baptist (the Jokanaan of the play) +is heard from the cistern in which he is confined. There is a certain +_naivete_ in the introduction of this cistern which may well provoke a +smile, especially when later we meet with the stage direction "He goes +down into the cistern." Historically its introduction may be correct, +but one wishes that the author had chosen any other place of confinement +for the prophet, at anyrate called it by any other name. In the +utilitarian days of water companies and water rates the image that the +word cistern evokes is painfully reminiscent of a metal tank in the +lumber-room of a suburban residence. Even Longfellow, in one of his most +beautiful poems, failed to rob the word of its associations. + +The voice strikes a perfectly new note in the play, and announces in +Scriptural language the advent of the Messiah. Then the soldiers, taking +the place of the _raissonneur_ in French plays, proceed to discuss and +describe the prophet. From them we learn that he is gentle and holy, +grateful for the smallest attentions of his guards, that when he came +from the desert he was clothed in camel's hair. We incidentally learn +that he is constantly uttering warnings and prophecies, and that by the +Tetrarch's orders no one is allowed to see him, much less communicate +with him. Then the Cappadocian comments on the strange nature of the +prison, and is informed that Herodias' first husband, the brother of +Herod, was imprisoned in it for twelve years, and was finally strangled. +The question by whom, so naturally put, introduces, with a master's +certainty of touch, another grim note, as Naaman, the executioner, a +gigantic negro, is pointed out as the perpetrator of the deed. Mention +is also made of the mandate he received to carry it out in the shape of +the Tetrarch's death ring. + +Thus the soldiers gossip among themselves and Salome's entrance, which +takes place almost immediately, is in stage parlance "worked up" by the +rapturous description of her movements and her person, delivered by the +Syrian, and the awestruck pleading of the page that he should not look +at her. + +The Princess is trembling with emotion, and in her first speech gives us +the keynote to the action of the play by referring to the glances of +desire that Herod casts on her. To a timid question of the Syrian's she +vouchsafes no answer, but proceeds to comment on the sweetness of the +night air and the heterogenous collection of guests whom Herod is +entertaining. The proffer of a seat by the lovesick captain remains +likewise unnoticed, and like a chorus the page beseeches him once more +not to look at her, and presages coming evil. And again, the moon is +invoked as this daughter of kings soliloquises on the coldness and +chastity of the orb of heaven. + +Her meditations are interrupted by the prophet's voice ringing out +mysteriously on the night air, and then a long dialogue in short, +pregnant sentences takes place between Salome and two soldiers as to the +hidden speaker. We learn that Herod is afraid of him and that the man of +God is constantly inveighing against Herodias. + +From time to time the Princess is interrupted by a messenger from the +Tetrarch requesting her to return, but she has no thought for anyone but +the prisoner in the cistern. She wishes to see him, but is informed that +this is against the Tetrarch's orders. Then she deliberately sets +herself to make the Syrian captain disobey his orders. She pleads with +him, she plays on his manhood by taunting him with being afraid of his +charge, she promises him a flower, "a little green flower." He remains +unmoved. The Princess uses all her blandishments to obtain her end; and +we can realise what a clever actress would make of the scene as she +murmurs, "I will look at you through the muslin veils, I will look at +you, Narraboth, it may be I will smile at you. Look at me, Narraboth, +look at me." And with more honeyed words and sentences, left unfinished, +she induces the young officer to break his trust. The speech consists +only of a few lines, and yet gives opportunity for as fine a piece of +acting as any player could desire. The soldier yields, and the page +suddenly draws attention to the moon, in which he discovers the hand of +a dead woman drawing a shroud over herself, though the Syrian can only +discover in her a likeness to the object of his infatuation. Jokanaan is +brought forth, and inquires for Herod, for whom he prophesies an early +death, and then for Herodias, the list of whose iniquities he +enumerates. + +His fierce denunciations terrify Salome, and in a wonderful piece of +word-painting she describes the cavernous depths of his eyes and the +terrors lying behind them. The Syrian begs her not to stay, but she is +fascinated by the ivory whiteness of the prophet's body and desire +enters her soul. Her fiery glances trouble the prophet, he inquires who +she is. He refuses to be gazed at by her "golden eyes under her gilded +eyelids." She reveals herself, and he bids her begone, referring to her +mother's iniquities. His voice moves her and she begs him to speak +again. The young Syrian's piteous remonstrance, "Princess! Princess!" is +unheeded, and she addresses the prophet once more. Here follows one of +the finest and most dangerous scenes of the play, and yet one which, +properly treated, is neither irreverent nor, as has been stupidly +asserted, immoral. + +Maddened by desire, this high-born Princess makes violent love in +language of supreme beauty to the ascetic dweller in the desert. His +body, his hair, his mouth, are in turn the object of her praise only to +be vilified one by one as he drives her back with scathing words. She +insists that she shall kiss his mouth, and the jealous Syrian begs her +who is like "a garden of myrrh" not to "speak these things." She +insists, she will kiss his mouth. The Syrian kills himself, falling on +his own sword. This tragic event, to which a horror-struck soldier draws +her attention, does not for one second divert her attention from the +pursuit of her passion. Again and again, in spite of Jokanaan's warnings +and exhortations (for even in this supreme hour of horror and temptation +he preaches the Gospel of his Master), she pleads for a kiss of his +mouth. This reiteration of the request, even after the Saint has +returned to his prison, is a triumph of dramatic craftsmanship. + +The page laments over his dead friend to whom he had given "a little bag +full of perfumes and a ring of agate that he wore always on his hand." +The soldiers debate about hiding the body and then, contrary to his +custom, Herod appears on the terrace accompanied by Herodias and all the +Court. His first inquiry is for Salome, and Herodias, whose suspicions +are evidently aroused, tells him in identically the same words used by +the page to the dead Syrian that he "must not look at her," that he is +"always looking at her." + +Again the regnant moon becomes a menace and a symbol. This time it is +Herod who finds a strange look in her, and whose morbid wine-heated +imagination compares her to a naked woman looking for lovers and reeling +like one drunk. He determines to stay on the terrace, and slips in the +blood of the suicide. Terror-struck, he inquires whence it comes, and +then espies the corpse. On learning whose it is, he mourns the loss of +his dead favourite and discusses the question of suicide with +Tigellinus, who is described in the _dramatis personae_ as "a young +Roman." Herod is shaken by fears, he feels a cold wind when there is no +wind, and hears "in the air something that is like the beating of +wings." He devotes his attention to Salome, who slights all his +advances. Once the voice of Jokanaan is heard prophesying that the hour +is at hand, and Herodias angrily orders that he should be silenced. +Herod feebly upholds the prophet and strenuously maintains that he is +not afraid of him as Herodias declares he is. She then inquires why, +that being the case, he does not deliver him into the hands of the Jews, +a suggestion that is at once taken up by one of the Jews present; and +then follows a discussion between Pharisees and Sadducees and Nazarenes +respecting the new Messiah. This is followed by a dialogue between +Herodias and the Tetrarch, interrupted ever and again by the +hollow-sounding denunciations and prophecies of Jokanaan. + +Herod's mind is still filled with the thoughts of his stepdaughter and +he beseeches Salome to dance for him, but supported by her mother she +keeps on refusing. The chorus, in the person of soldiers, once again +draws attention to the sombre aspect of the Tetrarch. More prophecies +from Jokanaan follow, with comments from Herod and his wife. + +Once more the watching soldiers remark on the gloom and menace of the +despot's countenance and he himself confesses that he is sad, beseeching +his wife's child to dance for him, in return for which favour he will +give her all she may ask of him, even unto the half of his kingdom. +Salome snatches greedily at the bait and, in spite of her mother's +reiterated protests, obtains from Herod an oath that he will grant her +whatsoever she wishes if she but dance for him. Even in the midst of the +joy with which her acceptance fills him, the shadow of approaching death +is over him, he feels an icy wind, hears the rustle of passing wings, +and feels a hot breath and the sensation of choking. The red petals of +his rose garland seem to him drops of blood, and yet he tries to delude +himself that he is perfectly happy. + +In accordance with Salome's instructions, slaves bring her perfumes and +the seven veils and remove her sandals. Even as Herod gloats over the +prospect of seeing her moving, naked feet, he recalls the fact that she +will be dancing in blood and notes that the moon has turned red even as +the prophet foretold. Herodias mocks at him and taunts him with +cowardice, endeavouring, at the same time, to persuade him to retire, +but her appeals are interrupted by the voice of Jokanaan. The sound of +his voice irritates her and she insists on going within, but Herod is +obstinate, he will not go till Salome has danced. She appeals once more +to her daughter not to dance, but with an "I am ready, Tetrarch," Salome +dances "the dance of the seven veils." There are no stage directions +given as to how the dance is to be performed, but whoever has seen the +slow, rhythmic, and lascivious movements of an Eastern dance can well +imagine it and all the passionate subtlety and exquisite grace with +which this languorous daughter of Judaean kings would endow it. The +ballet master who could not seize this opportunity of devising a _pas de +fascination_ worthy of the occasion does not know the rudiments of his +art. + +Herod is filled with delight and admiration. He is anxious to fulfil his +pledge and bids Salome draw near and name her reward. She does so. Her +guerdon shall be the head of Jokanaan on a silver charger. At this, +Herodias is filled with satisfaction, but the Tetrarch protests. Again +Herodias expresses approval and Herod begs Salome not to heed her. +Proudly the dancer answers that she does not heed her mother, that it +is for her own pleasure she demands the grisly reward, and reminds her +stepfather of his oath. He does not repudiate it but begs of her to +choose something else, even the half of his kingdom rather than what she +asks. Salome insists, and Herodias chimes in with a recital of the +insults she had suffered at the hands of Jokanaan and is peremptorily +bidden to be silent by her husband, who argues with Salome as to the +terrible and improper nature of her request, offering her his great +round emerald in place of the head. But Salome is obdurate. "I demand +the head of Jokanaan," she insists. + +Herod wishes to speak, but she interrupts him with "The head of +Jokanaan." Again Herod pleads with her and offers her fifty of his +peacocks whose backs are stained with gold and their feet stained with +purple, but she sullenly reiterates--"Give me the head of Jokanaan." + +Herodias once more expresses approval, and her husband turns savagely on +her with "Be silent! You cry out always; you cry out like a beast of +prey." Then, his conscience stinging him, he pleads for Jokanaan's life, +and gives vent to pious sentiments: he talks of the omnipresence of God, +and then is uncertain of it. His mind is torn with doubts, and fears. He +has slipped in blood and heard a beating of wings which are evil omens. +Yet another appeal to Salome is met with the uncompromising "Give me +the head of Jokanaan." He makes one last appeal, he enumerates his +treasures, jewels hidden away that Herodias even has never seen; he +describes the precious stones in his treasury. All these he offers her. +He will add cups of gold that if any enemy pour poison into them will +turn to silver, sandals encrusted with glass, mantles from the land of +the Seres, bracelets from the City of Euphrates; nay even the mantle of +the High Priest shall she have, the very veil of the Temple. Above the +angry protests of the Jews rises Salome's "Give me the head of +Jokanaan," and sinking back into his seat the weak man gives way and +hands the ring of death to a soldier, who straightway bears it to the +executioner. As soon as his scared official has disappeared into the +cistern Salome leans over it and listens. She is quivering with +excitement and is indignant that there is no sound of a struggle. She +calls to Naaman to strike. There is no answer--she can hear nothing. +Then there is the sound ... something has fallen on the ground. She +fancies it is the executioner's sword and that he is afraid to carry out +his task. She bids the page order the soldiers to bring her the head. He +recoils from her and she turns to the men themselves bidding them carry +out the sentence. They likewise recoil, and just as she turns to Herod +himself with a demand for the head, a huge black arm is extended from +the cistern presenting the head of Jokanaan on a silver shield. She +seizes it eagerly. Meanwhile the cowering Tetrarch covers his face with +his cloak and a smile of triumph illumines the face of Herodias. All the +tigress in Salome is awakened; she apostrophises the head. He would not +let her kiss his mouth. Well, she will kiss it now, she will fasten her +teeth in it. She twits the eyes and the tongue with their present +impotence, she will throw the head to the dogs and the birds of the air. +But anon her mood changes, she recalls all that in him had appealed to +her, and laments over the fact that, though she loves him still, her +desire for him can now never be appeased. + +All Herod's superstitious fears are awakened, he upbraids Herodias for +her daughter's crime, and mounts the staircase to enter the palace. The +stage darkens and Salome, a moonbeam falling on her, is heard +apostrophising the head, the lips of which she has just kissed. Herod +turns, and, seeing her, orders her to be killed, and the soldiers, +rushing forward, crush her with their shields. + +It will be seen that the dramatist has awarded the fate meted out in +Scripture to Herodias to the daughter and not the mother, a poetic +licence for which no one will blame him. + +In reading the play carefully and critically one cannot but be struck +with the influence of Maeterlinck in the atmosphere and construction, +and of Flaubert in the gorgeous imagery of the dialogue, the _decor des +phrases_, so to speak. An artist in words Wilde also proves himself in +stagecraft in this play. Not the mere mechanical setting, of which I +shall speak later, but the ability to lead up to a situation, the power +to convey a whole volume in a few words to fill the audience with a +sense of impending tragedy, and to utilise outside influences to enhance +the value of the scenes. Thus, the references to the moon by the various +characters are so many stage settings for the emotion of the moment, +verbal pictures illustrating the state of mind of the speaker, or the +trend of the action. It has been objected that the constant reiteration +of a given phrase is a mere trick and Max Nordau has set it down as a +mark of insanity, but in the hands of an artist the use of that "trick" +incalculably enhances the value of the dialogue, although when employed +by a bungler the repetition would be as senseless and irritating as the +conversational remarks of a parrot. The young Syrian's admiration for +Salome, the page's fears and warnings, Salome's insistence that she will +kiss Jokanaan's mouth, later on her insistence on having his head, the +very comments of the soldiers on Herod's sombre look are all brought in +with a thoroughly definite purpose, and it would be difficult to find an +equally simple and effective way of achieving that purpose. + +A favourite device of the author was to introduce, apparently casually, +a sentence or word at the beginning of the play to be repeated or used +with telling effect at the end. For instance, in "A Woman Of No +Importance" Lord Illingworth's casual remark--"Oh, no one--a woman of no +importance," which brings down the curtain on the first act, is used +with a slight alteration at the end of the play in Mrs Arbuthnot's reply +to Gerald's inquiry as to who her visitor has been, "Ah, no one--a man +of no importance." In the same way Salome's reiterated cry, "I will kiss +the mouth of Jokanaan," in her scene with the prophet gives added +strength to her bitterly triumphant cry as, holding the severed head in +her hands, she repeats at three different intervals, "I have kissed thy +mouth, Jokanaan." + +Apart from all questions of stage technique, Wilde had the incomparable +gift of finding _le mot juste_, of conveying a portrait in half-a-dozen +words. Could anything give one a more distinct portrait of Herod than +Salome's description of his "mole's eyes under his shaking eyelids," or +would it be possible to explain Herod's passion for his stepdaughter in +fewer words than her soliloquy: "It is strange that the husband of my +mother looks at me like that. I know not what it means. In truth, yes, I +know it." There is not a word wasted or misplaced, there is not a +superfluous syllable. + +I have spoken of the influence of Flaubert or his language, but there +was in Wilde a thoroughly Eastern love of colour which found its +expression in sensuous richness of sound, jewelled words, wonderfully +employed to effect a contrast with the horror in which he seemed to take +a strange delight. The rich, decorative phrases only enhance the +constant presence of the weird and _macabre_, while in its turn the +horror gives an almost painful lustre to the words. + +The play has been assailed as immoral, but this certainly is not so. The +setting of an Eastern drama is not that of a Western, and the morals and +customs of the East are no more to be judged by a Western standard than +the Court of Herod to be compared with that of Edward the Seventh. + +The play deals frankly with a sensuous episode, and if the author has +introduced the proper atmosphere he is only doing in words what every +artist does in painting. Compare "Salome" with Shakespeare's one Eastern +play, "Cleopatra," and though the treatment may be a little more modern, +a trifle more decadent, the same non-morality rather than immorality is +to be found in the principal characters. + +I fancy that a great deal of the prejudice still existing in England +against the play is due to the illustrations of the late Aubrey +Beardsley. Beardsley was a personal friend of mine, and it, therefore, +pains me to have to frankly confess that, clever and decorative as his +drawings undoubtedly are, they are unhealthy in this instance, unhealthy +and evil in suggestion. I can imagine no more pruriently horrible +nightmare than these pictures of foul-faced, satyrlike men, feminine +youths and leering women. The worst of Beardsley's women is that, in +spite of their lubricity, they grow on one, and now and then one +suddenly traces in their features a likeness to really good women one +has known. It is as though something Satanic had been worked into the +ripe-lipped face of a girl. Such as these might have been the emissaries +of Satan who tempted anchorites of old to commit unpardonable sins. +Moreover, many of the illustrations have nothing whatever to do with the +text. I may be wrong, but I cannot for the life of me see what +connection there is between "Salome," the play, and "The Peacock Skirt" +or "The Black Cape." Nor can I see the object of modernising the +"Stomach Dance," save to impart an extra dose of lubricity into the +subject. The _leit motif_ of all Beardsley's art was to _epater les +bourgeois_, to horrify the ordinary stolid Philistine, and he would +hesitate at nothing, however _outre_, to attain this end. In these +drawings he surpassed himself in that respect, and one can only wonder +that a publisher was found daring enough to publish them. The subject is +a painful one to me, but I should not have been doing my duty as a +critic of the play had I not remarked upon it. An edition from which the +drawings are omitted can, however, be bought to-day. + +I have already commented on the vagueness of the directions as to the +setting of the scene, and it may not be out of place to quote here a +letter I have received from a well-known stage-manager on the subject. +"You ask me how I would set the scene in question in accordance with the +printed directions, and I reply frankly that I should be puzzled to do +so even were the scene to consist of the banqueting hall with the +balustraded terrace built up above it. The whole action of the piece +takes place on the terrace, from which the actors are supposed to +overlook the banqueting hall, so that the latter apartment need not be +in view of the audience, but the gigantic staircase on the _R._ I +confess fogs me. Where does it lead to, and, save for Herod's exit at +the end of the play, of what use is it? It only lumbers up the stage, +and looks out of place (to my mind, at anyrate) on a terrace. + +"By the cistern I presume the author means a well, though how on earth +the actor who plays Jokanaan is going to manage to scramble in and out +of it with dignity so as not to provoke the hilarity of the audience is +beyond my ken. I note that in the production of the opera at Dresden +the printed directions were utterly ignored." + +As has already been stated, "Salome" was first written in French and +subsequently translated into English by a friend of Oscar Wilde. + +Reading it in the language in which it was originally written, one fact +stands out pre-eminent--the work is that of a foreigner. The French, +though correct and polished, is not virile, living French. It is too +correct, too laboured; the writer does not take any liberties with his +medium. The words have all the delicacy of marble statuary but lack the +breath of life. I think it was Max Beerbohm who once said of Walter +Pater (heaven forbid that I should agree with him) that he wrote English +as though it were a dead language, and that is precisely what is the +matter with Wilde's French. One longs for a _tournure de phrase_, a +_maniement de mots_ that would give it a semblance of native authorship. +It is like a Russian talking French, and altogether too precise, too +pedantically grammatical. + +I believe the play was revised by Marcel Schwab, but although he may +have corrected an error here and there he would hardly have liked to +tamper with the text itself. + +The play was written in 1892, and was accepted by Madame Sarah +Bernhardt, who was to have produced it during her season at the Palace +Theatre. It was already in full rehearsal when it was prohibited by the +Censor. A great deal of abuse and ridicule has been heaped on that +official for this, but in all fairness to him it must be admitted that +he had no choice in the matter. Rightly or wrongly plays dealing with +Biblical subjects are not allowed to be performed on the English stage, +and the Censor's business is to see that the rules and regulations +governing stage productions are duly observed. + +The author was greatly incensed at the refusal of the Lord Chamberlain's +officer to license the piece, and talked (whether seriously or not is a +moot point) of leaving England for ever and taking out naturalisation +papers as a French citizen. This threat he never carried out. + +Meanwhile Madame Sarah Bernhardt had taken the play back to Paris with +her, promising to produce it at her own theatre of the Porte St Martin +at the very first opportunity, a promise that was never fulfilled. +Moreover, when a couple of years later Wilde, then a prisoner awaiting +his trial, finding himself penniless, sent a friend to her to explain +how he was circumstanced, and offering to sell her the play outright for +a comparatively small sum of money in order that he might be able to pay +for his defence, this incomparable _poseuse_ was profuse in her +expressions of sympathy and admiration for _ce grand artiste_ and +promised to assist him to the best of her ability. She had the cruelty +to delude with false hopes a man suffering a mental martyrdom, and +after buoying him up from day to day with promises of financial +assistance, the Jewess not considering the investment a remunerative +one, shut the door to his emissary, and failed to keep her word. Now +that the foreign royalties on play and opera amount to a considerable +sum annually her Hebrew heart must be consumed with rage at having +missed such "a good thing." + +The piece was first produced at the Theatre Libre in Paris in 1896 by +Monsieur Luigne Poe with Lina Muntz as Salome. The news of the +production reached Wilde in his prison cell at Reading, and in a letter +to a friend the following reference to it occurs:-- + + "Please say how gratified I was at the performance of my play, and + have my thanks conveyed to Luigne Poe. It is something that at a + time of disgrace and shame I should still be regarded as an artist. + I wish I could feel more pleasure, but I seem dead to all emotions + except those of anguish and despair. However, please let Luigne Poe + know I am sensible of the honour he has done me. He is a poet + himself. Write to me in answer to this, and try and see what + Lemaitre, Bauer, and Sarcey said of 'Salome.'" + +There is something intensely pathetic in the picture of Convict 33 +writing to know what the foremost critics of the most artistic city in +Europe have to say concerning the child of his brain. + +The play was eventually privately produced in English by the New Stage +Club in May 1905 at the Bijou Theatre, Archer Street. + +The following is the programme on that occasion:-- + + THE NEW STAGE CLUB + + "SALOME" + + BY OSCAR WILDE + + AT THE BIJOU THEATRE, Archer Street, W. + + May 10th and May 13th 1905 + + Characters of the drama in the order of their speaking: + + A Young Syrian Captain Mr HERBERT ALEXANDER + Page of Herodias Mrs GWENDOLEN BISHOP + 1st Soldier Mr CHARLES GEE + 2nd Soldier Mr RALPH DE ROHAN + Cappadocian Mr CHARLES DALMON + Jokanaan Mr VINCENT NELLO + Naaman the Executioner Mr W. EVELYN OSBORN + Salome Miss MILLICENT MURBY + Slave Miss CARRIE KEITH + Herod Mr ROBERT FARQUHARSON + Herodias Miss LOUISE SALOM + Tigellinus Mr C. L. DELPH + + Slaves, Jews, Nazarenes, and Soldiers by + Miss Stansfelds, Messrs Bernhard Smith, Fredk. Stanley + Smith, John Bate, Stephen Bagehot and Frederick Lawrence. + + SCENE--THE GREAT TERRACE OUTSIDE THE PALACE OF HEROD. + + Stage Management under the direction of Miss FLORENCE FARR. + +The following paragraphs are taken from a criticism on the performance +which appeared in _The Daily Chronicle_ of 11th May 1905: + + "If only the dazzling and unfortunate genius who wrote 'Salome' + could have seen it acted as it was acted yesterday at the little + Bijou Theatre! One fears, if he had, he would have found that + little phrase of his--'the importance of being earnest'--a more + delicately true satire than ever upon our sometimes appalling + seriousness. + + "Quite a brilliant and crowded audience had responded to what + seemed an undoubtedly daring and interesting venture. Many seemed + to have come out of mere curiosity to see a play the censor had + forbidden; some through knowing what a beautiful, passionate, and + in its real altitude wholly inoffensive play 'Salome' is. + + "As those who had read the play were aware, this was in no way the + fault of the author of 'Salome.' Its offence in the censor's + eyes--and, considering the average audience, he was doubtless + wise--was that it represents Salome making love to John the + Baptist, failing to win him to her desires, and asking for his + death from Herod, as revenge. This, of course, is not Biblical, but + is a fairly widespread tradition. + + "In the play, as it is written, this love scene is just a very + beautiful piece of sheer passionate speech, full of luxurious, + Oriental imagery, much of which is taken straight from the 'Song + of Solomon.' It is done very cleverly, very gracefully. It is not + religious, but it is, in itself, neither blasphemous nor obscene, + whatever it may be in the ears of those who hear it. It might + possibly, perhaps, be acted grossly; acted naturally and + beautifully it would show itself at least art. + + "In the hands, however, of the New Stage Club it was treated after + neither of these methods. It was treated solemnly, dreamily, + phlegmatically, as a sort of cross between Maeterlinck and a + 'mystery play.' + + "The whole of the play was done in this manner, all save two + parts--one, that of Herodias (Miss Salom), which was excellently + and vigorously played: the other, that of Herod, which was + completely spoiled by an actor who gave what appeared to be a sort + of semi-grotesque portrait of one of the late Roman emperors. Even + the play itself represents the usurping Idumean as a terrific + figure of ignorant strength and lustfulness and power 'walking + mightily in his greatness.' Some of the most luxurious speeches in + the whole play--above all the wonderful description of his + jewels--are put into Herod's mouth. Yet he is represented at the + Bijou Theatre as a doddering weakling! And even so is desperately + serious. + + "Altogether, beneath this pall of solemnity on the one hand and + lack of real exaltation on the other, the play's beauties of + speech and thought had practically no chance whatever. Set as it is + too, in one long act of an hour and a half, the lack of natural + life and vigour made it more tiresome still. And the shade of Oscar + Wilde will doubtless be blamed for it all!" + +It was unavoidable that a play necessitating the highest histrionic +ability on the part of the actors, together with the greatest delicacy +of touch and artistic sense of proportion, should suffer in its +interpretation by a set of amateurs, however enthusiastic. + +A second performance, given in June 1906 by the Literary Stage Society, +was far more successful from an artistic point of view. This was in a +great measure due to the admirable stage setting designed by one who is +an artist to his finger tips, Mr C. S. Ricketts, and who, having been a +personal friend of the author's, could enter thoroughly into the spirit +of the play. The scene was laid in Herod's tent, the long blue folds of +which, with a background curtain spangled with silver stars, set off to +perfection the exquisite Eastern costumes designed by the same +authority. Mr Robert Farquharson was the Herod and Miss Darragh the +Salome. + +But even this performance was far from being up to the standard the play +demands, and Dr Max Meyerfeld, who has done so much to make Wilde's work +known in Germany, wrote of it: + + "The most notable feature of the production of 'Salome' was the + costumes, designed by Mr C. S. Ricketts--a marvellous harmony of + blue and green and silver. Here praise must end. The stage was left + ridiculously bare, and never for a moment produced the illusion of + the terrace outside Herod's banqueting hall. Not even the cistern + out of which the Prophet rises was discoverable--Hamlet without the + Prince of Denmark. And the actors! Without being too exigeant, I + cannot but suggest that before attempting such a play they ought to + have been sent by a special train to Berlin. Even then Miss Darragh + would have been an impossible Salome. She lacked nearly everything + required by this complex character. The Dance of the Seven Veils + was executed with all the propriety of a British governess. Mr + Robert Farquharson, whose Herod delighted us last year, has now + elaborated it to the verge of caricature. He emphasises far too + much the neuropathic element, and revels in the repulsive symptoms + of incipient softening of the brain. + + "I cannot think that either of these works has yet been given a + fair chance in England. They are, however, things which will + endure, being independent of place and time, of dominant prejudice + and caprices of taste." + +On the Continent "Salome" has become almost a stock piece and has been +performed in France, Sweden, Holland, Italy, and Russia, and has been +translated into every European tongue. It was not, however, till the +production in February, 1905, of the opera of Richard Strauss at the +Royal Opera House, Dresden, that "Salome" occupied its true and proper +place in the art world. Admirably rendered into German by Madame Hedwig +Lachmann, the libretto is a faithful translation of the original text. +The success of the opera was not for a minute in doubt, and with +operatic stars of the first order to interpret the characters and an +orchestra of 110 performers to do full justice to the instrumental +music, nothing was left undone to make the production a memorable one. A +distinguished foreign critic writing from Dresden says: + + "Death in Love, and Love in Death, that is the whole piece. Death + of Narraboth, the young captain who cannot bear the burning words + that Salome addresses to Iokanaan; death of Iokanaan. Death of + Salome, impending death of Herod Antipas," and analysing the + character of Salome he continues: "It is not the Jewess 'so + charming and full of touching humility' that Salome represents, she + is the Syrian who inspired the Song of Songs, for whom incest is + almost a law and Semiramius, Lath, and Myrrha divinities. She is + the Syrian a prey to the seven devils, who combines in her amorous + cult beauty, death, and resurrection." + +When the opera was performed at Berlin it is interesting to remember +that the Kaiser, whose views on morality are strict enough to satisfy +the most exacting Puritan, far from seeing anything to object to in the +story, not only was present on the opening night, but took an active +interest in the rehearsals, going so far even as to suggest certain +mechanical effects. + +In New York a perfect storm of execration from the "ultra guid" greeted +the production of Strauss's work, which was almost immediately +withdrawn. It is only justice to say that the rendering of the Dance of +the Seven Veils was in a great measure responsible for this. + +It was also freely rumoured that the puritanical daughter of one of the +millionaire directors of the Opera House had used her influence for the +suppression of the new production. + +It is interesting to hear what the objectors to the story have to say, +and with this view I quote two extracts, one from a letter written by Mr +E. A. Baughan to _The Musical Standard_ and the other from a well-known +critic writing in a leading provincial paper. + +Mr Baughan writes: + + "Oscar Wilde took nothing but the characters and the incident of + John the Baptist's head being brought in a charger. All else is + changed and bears no relation to the Bible story. That would not + matter had worthy use been made of the story. + + "In 'Salome' everything is twisted to create an atmosphere of + eroticism and sensuality. That is the aim of the play and nothing + else. There is none of the 'wide bearing on life' which you vaguely + suggest. Herod is a sensuous beast who takes delight in the + beautiful postures of his stepdaughter. He speaks line after line + of highly coloured imagery and his mental condition is that of a + man on the verge of delirium tremens, brought on by drink and + satyriasis. Oscar Wilde does not make him 'sorry' but only slightly + superstitious, thus losing whatever of drama there is in the Bible + narrative. + + "So far, and in the drawing of Herodias, the dramatist may be + allowed the licence he has taken, however. Even a Puritan must + admit that art must show the evil as well as the good of life to + present a perfect whole. + + "But it is in the character of Salome herself that Oscar Wilde has + succeeded in his aim of shocking any man or woman of decent mind. + He makes Salome in love with John the Baptist. It is a horrible, + decadent, lascivious love. She prates of his beautiful smooth limbs + and the cold, passionless lips which he will not yield to her + insensate desire. It is a picture of unnatural passion, all the + more terrible that Salome is a young girl. John the Baptist's death + is brought about as much by Salome as her mother. The prophet will + not yield himself alive to Salome's desires, but she can, and does, + feed her passion at his dead, cold lips. And that is what has + disgusted New York. + + "You speak of fighting for liberty in art. If such exhibitions of + degraded passion are included in what you call 'liberty,' then you + will be fighting for the representation on the stage of satyriasis + and nymphomania, set forth with every imaginable circumstance of + literary and musical skill. I can conceive of no greater + degradation of Richard Strauss's genius than the illustration of + this play by music." + +And here is what the critic of the provincial journals has to say: + + "Salome marks the depths of all that was spurious, all that was + artificial, all that was perverse. Startling to English ears, the + play was not at all original. It drew its inspiration from the + decadent school of France, but in that world it would rank as one + of the commonplace. + + "The shocking, startling idea, that so outraged the respectable + Yankees, is the twisting of a story of the New Testament to the + needs of a literature of the most degenerate kind. But in Paris, + and particularly amongst Wilde's friends, all such ideas had lost + the thrill of novelty. Pierre Louys, to whom he dedicates the + book, had couched his own 'Aphrodite' on similar perversions of + history and mythology, and to treat the story of the New Testament + in similar fashion was hardly likely to give pause to men who + laughed at the basis of the Christian religion. + + "Even Academicians like Anatole France dealt with the Gospels as + the mere framework of ironical stories, and writers of the stamp of + Jean Loverain out-Heroded Wilde's Herod both in audacity and point. + Catulle Mendes recently produced at the Opera House in Paris an + opera founded on the supposed love of Mary Magdalen for Christ. + Catulle Mendes has very real talent, the opera was a great + success." + +Whatever the judgment of posterity may be, and there can be little doubt +that it can be favourable, the play must ever appeal to the actor, the +artist, and the student of literature, on account of its dramatic +possibilities, its wonderful colouring, the perfection of its +construction, and the mastery of its style. + +It stands alone in the literature of all countries. + + + + +"THE DUCHESS OF PADUA" + + +The first of all Wilde's plays was "The Duchess of Padua." It was +written at the time when he was living at the Hotel Voltaire in Paris +and taking Balzac as his model. The title of the play was doubtless +inspired by Webster's gloomy tragedy of another Italian duchess; and the +play itself is in five acts. Although many students of his works +consider that it is worthy to rank with the masterpieces of the +Elizabethan drama, it must be confessed that the work, though full of +promise, is immature and too obviously indebted in certain scenes to +some of Shakespeare's most obvious stage tricks. He had written the play +with a view to its being played by Miss Mary Anderson, but to his great +disappointment she declined his offer of it. + +His biographer's description of his reception of her refusal is worth +quoting: + + "I was with him at the Hotel Voltaire on the day when he heard from + Mary Anderson, to whom he had sent a copy of the drama which was + written for her. He telegraphed in the morning for her decision, + and whilst we were talking together after lunch her answer came. It + was unfavourable; yet, though he had founded great hopes on the + production of this play, he gave no sign of his disappointment. I + can remember his tearing a little piece off the blue telegraph-form + and rolling it up into a pellet and putting it into his mouth, as, + by a curious habit, he did with every paper or book that came into + his hands. And all he said, as he passed the telegram over to me, + was, 'This, Robert, is rather tedious.'" + +The scene of the play is laid in Padua, the period being the sixteenth +century, and the characters are as follows:-- + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + SIMONE GESSO Duke of Padua. + BEATRICE His Wife. + ANDREA POLLAIUOLO Cardinal of Padua. + MAFFIO PETRUCCI } + JEPPO VITELOZZO }Of the Ducal Household. + TADDEO BARDI } + GUIDO FERRANTI + ASCANIO CRISTOFANO His Friend. + COUNT MORANZONE + BERNARDO CAVALCANTI Chief Justiciar of Padua. + HUGO The Public Executioner. + LUCIA A Tirewoman. + + Serving-Men, Burghers, Soldiers, Falconers, Monks, etc. + +The scene opens in the market, where Ascanio and Guido are awaiting the +arrival of the writer of a letter who has promised to enlighten the +latter as to his birth, and who will wear a violet cloak with a silver +falcon embroidered on the shoulder. The stranger arrives and proves to +be Count Moranzone, who, Ascanio having been dismissed, informs the lad +that he is the son of Lorenzo, the late Duke of Padua, betrayed to an +ignominious death by the reigning Duke, Simone Gesso. He works on the +youth's feelings and induces him to swear to avenge his father's death +by slaying his betrayer, but not until Moranzone sends him his parent's +dagger. Guido left alone, in a fine speech renews his oath, and as he is +vowing on his drawn dagger to "forswear the love of women and that +hollow bauble men call female loveliness," Beatrice descends the steps +of the church, their eyes meet for a second and as she leaves the stage +she turns to look at him again. "Say, who is yonder lady?" inquires the +young man, and a burgher answers, "The Duchess of Padua." + +In the second act the Duchess is seen pleading with her husband that he +should feed and assist his starving people. On his exit she is joined by +Guido, who, for the first time, declares his love, while she avows hers +in turn. A pretty love scene full of tenderness and poetry is +interrupted by the appearance of Count Moranzone, whom Beatrice alone +catches sight of, and presently a messenger enters and hands Guido a +parcel containing the fatal dagger. He will have no more to do with +love--for will not his soul be stained with murder?--and steeling his +heart against Beatrice he bids her farewell, telling her that there is +a barrier between them. The Duke makes a brief entrance. The Duchess +will not go hunting with him. He suspects, and inquires for Guido, and +with a veiled threat leaves her. She will end her life that very night, +she soliloquises, and yet, why should she die, why not the Duke? + +She is interrupted by Moranzone, whom she taxes with taking Guido from +her. He answers that the young man does not love her nor will she ever +see him more, and leaves her. She determines that that very night she +will lie in Death's arms. + +The third act takes place at night within the Palace. Guido enters the +apartment from without by means of a rope ladder, and is met by +Moranzone, to whom he declares that he will not stoop to murder, but +will place the dagger, with a paper stating who he is, upon the Duke's +bed and then take horse to Venice and enlist against the Infidels. +Nothing Moranzone urges can move him and the latter at last leaves him. + +As Guido lifts the curtain to enter the Duke's chamber he is met by +Beatrice, who, after a while, confesses that she has stabbed her +husband. Guido, horrified, refuses to have aught to do with her, and +despite all her blandishments and entreaties remains adamant. She then +begs him to draw his sword on her "and quick make reckoning with Death, +who yet licks his lips after this feast." + +He wrests the dripping knife from her hand, and although she explains +that 'twas for love of him she did the deed he bids her begone to her +chamberwomen. + +Finally she turns on him with the threat "Who of us calls down the +lightning on his head let him beware the hurt that lurks within the +forked levin's flame," she leaves him. Left alone, his heart goes forth +to her and he calls her back, but soon her voice is heard without, +saying, "This way fled my husband's murderer." Soldiers enter, and Guido +is arrested, the bloodstained knife being taken from him. + +The fourth act is laid in the hall of justice. The Duchess has accused +Guido of the murder. He will not defend himself though Moranzone, who +has recognised the dagger as the Duchess's, urges him to do so. Guido +tells his evil genius that he himself did the deed. He then begs leave +of the Justiciar to let him name the guilty one who slew the Duke, but +Beatrice, who is fearful he will accuse her, urges that he shall not be +allowed speech. A lengthy wrangle takes place between her, the judges, +and Moranzone, and the court retires to consider the point. During the +interval, the accused holds conference with the Cardinal, who will only +hear him in the Confessional. Beatrice tells him, "An thou dost meet my +husband in Purgatory with a blood-red star over his heart, tell him I +send you to bear him company." When at last the judges return they +decide that Guido may have speech. Beatrice, who has arranged for a +horse to be in waiting that it may convey her to Venice, endeavours to +leave the court, but is prevented. At last Guido speaks and confesses to +the murder. He is condemned to death, and is led forth as Beatrice, +calling out his name, "throws wide her arms and rushes across the stage +towards him." + +The last act takes place in the prison. Guido is asleep, and Beatrice, +wearing a cloak and mask, enters to him. By wearing these and using her +ring of State she hopes he will be enabled to escape. Presently she +drinks the poison which, as he is of noble birth, has been placed near +him and when he awakes a reconciliation takes place between them. It is +too late, the poison has begun to work. "Oh, Beatrice, thy mouth wears +roses that do defy Death," exclaims Guido, and later on--"Who sins for +love, sins not," to which Beatrice replies, "I have sinned, and yet +mayhap shall I be forgiven. I have loved much." They kiss each other for +the first time in this act, and in a final spasm she expires, and he, +snatching the dagger from her belt, stabs himself as the executioner +enters. + +The play was read for copyright purposes in March, 1907, by an amateur +dramatic society connected with St James's Church, Hampstead Road, Mr +George Alexander, lending his theatre for the purpose. It has been +produced, but without much success, in America by Miss Gale and the late +Lawrence Barrett, and in 1904 at one of the leading theatres in Hamburg. +The German production was, however, marred by a series of unfortunate +incidents, so that it can hardly be held to have been a fair test of the +merits of the play. The Guido had a severe cold, and during Beatrice's +long speech in the last act, when he is supposed to be asleep, kept on +spoiling the situation by repeated sneezes, while the Duchess herself +was uncertain of her words. On the third night the Cardinal went mad on +the stage and had to be taken off to an asylum. + +"The Duchess of Padua" is much more a play for the study than the stage, +although replete with dramatic possibilities, for its gloomy character +would always militate against its success in this country. The plot is +finely elaborated, and yet perfectly clear. The characterisation is +keenly aware of the value of contrast in art and packed with a +psychology which, buried as it is, nevertheless is just and accurate. No +one can read the truly poetical dialogue with its stately cadence and +rich volume of sound without being moved by the dignity of tragedy, and +what blemishes there may be are more due to inexperience than to any +departure from the ideals in art that the author had set up for +himself. + + + + +"VERA, OR THE NIHILISTS" + + +And now in the survey of the Romantic Dramas we come to a play totally +different from any other work of the author's--"Vera, or the Nihilists." + +This is a melodrama pure and simple, the action taking place in Russia +in 1795. It is described as "A Drama in a prologue and four acts," and +was written in 1881. Badly produced and acted in America it was printed +for private circulation. + +The dramatis personae are: + +PERSONS IN THE PROLOGUE + + PETER SABOUROFF (an Innkeeper). + VERA SABOUROFF (his Daughter). + MICHAEL (a Peasant). + COLONEL KOTEMKIN. + +PERSONS IN THE PLAY + + IVAN THE CZAR. + PRINCE PAUL MARALOFFSKI (Prime Minister of Russia). + PRINCE PETROVITCH. + COUNT ROUVALOFF. + MARQUIS DE POIVRARD. + BARON RAFF. + GENERAL KOTEMKIN. + A PAGE. + +_Nihilists_ + + PETER TCHERNAVITCH, President of the Nihilists. + MICHAEL. + ALEXIS IVANACIEVITCH, known as a Student of Medicine. + PROFESSOR MARFA. + VERA SABOUROFF. + + Soldiers, Conspirators, etc. + + Scene, Moscow. Time, 1800. + +The plot is briefly as follows:-- + +Dmitri Sabouroff, the son of an innkeeper, is, with other prisoners, on +his way to an exile in Siberia to which he has been sentenced for +participation in Nihilist conspiracies. The band of prisoners in its +melancholy progress halts at the paternal inn. Dmitri is recognised by +his sister Vera, and manages to pass her a piece of paper on which is +written the address of the Nihilist centre, together with the form of +oath used on joining. Then the old innkeeper recognises his son and +tries to get to him as the prisoners are being marched off. The colonel +in charge of the detachment (Kotemkin), closes the door on him and the +old man falls senseless to the ground. A peasant admirer of Vera's +(Michael) kneels down and tends the stricken father while Vera recites +the oath: "To strangle whatever nature is in me; neither to love nor to +be loved; neither to pity nor to be pitied; neither to marry nor to be +given in marriage, till the end is come." This tableau ends the +prologue. + +In the first act the Nihilists are assembled at their secret meeting +place and are anxiously waiting the return of Vera, who has gone to a +ball at the Grand Duke's to "see the Czar and all his cursed brood face +to face." + +Amongst the conspirators is a young student of medicine, Alexis, who has +incurred the suspicions of Vera's admirer, Michael, the most +uncompromising of the revolutionists. Vera returns with the news that +martial law is to be proclaimed. She is in love with Alexis and reproves +him for running the risk of being present. Meanwhile, Michael and the +President confer together. Michael proposes to don the uniform of the +Imperial Guard, make his way into the courtyard of the palace, and shoot +the Czar as he attends a council to be held in a room, the exact +location of which he has learnt from Alexis. He has followed Alexis and +seen him enter the palace, but has not seen the young man come out again +though he had waited all night upon the watch. + +Vera defends Alexis whom the conspirators wish to kill. Suddenly +soldiers are heard outside, the conspirators resume their masks as +Kotemkin and his men enter. In reply to his inquiries Vera informs him +that they are a company of strolling players. He orders her to unmask. +Alexis steps forward, removes his mask, and proclaims himself to be the +Czarevitch! The conspirators fear he will betray them, but he backs up +Vera's tale as to their being strolling players, gives the officer to +understand that he has an affair of gallantry on hand with Vera, and +with a caution to the General dismisses him and his men. The curtain +comes down, as, turning to the Nihilists, he exclaims, "Brothers, you +trust me now!" + +The second act is laid in the Council Chamber, where the various +councillors are assembled, including the cynical Prime Minister, Prince +Paul Maraloffski. Presently the Czarevitch enters, followed later by the +Czar, whose fears Prince Paul has worked on to induce him to proclaim +martial law. He is about to sign the document when the Czarevitch +intervenes with a passionate appeal for the people and their rights, and +finally proclaims himself a Nihilist. His father orders his arrest, and +his orders are about to be carried out when a shot is heard from without +and the Czar, who has thrown open the window, falls mortally wounded, +and dies, denouncing his son as his murderer. + +The third act takes place in the Nihilists' meeting place. Alexis has +been proclaimed Czar, and has dismissed his father's evil genius, Prince +Paul. The passwords are given and it is discovered that there is a +stranger present. He unmasks, and proves to be no other than Prince +Paul, who desires to become a Nihilist and revenge himself for his +dismissal. Alexis has not obeyed the summons to the meeting, and in +spite of Vera's protests is sentenced to death. The implacable Michael +reminds her of her brother's fate and of her oath. She steels her heart +and demands to draw with the others for the honour of carrying out the +sentence on Alexis. It falls to her, and it is arranged that she shall +make her way to the Czar's bedchamber that night, Paul having provided +the key and the password, and stab him in his sleep. Once she has +carried out her mission she is to throw out the bloodstained dagger to +her fellow-conspirators, who will be waiting outside, as a signal that +the Czar has been assassinated. + +The fourth act is set in the antechamber of the Czar's private room, +where the various ministers are assembled discussing the Czar and his +plans of reform (he has already dismissed his guards and ordered the +release of all political prisoners). + +Alexis enters and listens to their conversation. Stepping forward he +dismisses them all, depriving them of their fortunes and estates. Left +alone he falls asleep and Vera, entering, raises her hand to stab him, +when he awakes and seizes her arm. He tells her he has only accepted the +crown that she should share it with him. Vera realises that she loves +him and that she has broken her oath. A love scene follows. Midnight +strikes, the conspirators are heard clamouring in the streets. Vera +stabs herself, throws the dagger out of the window, and in answer to +Alexis's agonised, "What have you done?" replies with her dying breath, +"I have saved Russia." + +The play, as I have already said, is quite different from any other of +Wilde's, and in reading it one cannot help regretting that he did not +turn some of his attention and devote a portion of his great talents to +the reform of English melodrama. He might have founded a strong, virile, +and healthy dramatic school, and by so doing raised the standard of the +popular everyday play in this country. Nevertheless, that "Vera" was not +a success when produced is not to be wondered at, apart from the fact of +its having been vilely acted. Pure melodrama, especially, despite a very +general idea to the contrary, requires an acquaintance with technique +and stage mechanism that is only obtainable after many years of +practice. At this period the author had not enjoyed this practice in +technique. Nevertheless, the play is essentially dramatic and had Mr +Wilde at this early time in his dramatic career called in the assistance +of some experienced actor or stage-manager, with a very little +alteration a perfectly workmanlike drama could have been made out of it. +The prologue and the first act could have been run into one act divided +into two separate scenes. More incident and action could have been +introduced into Act Two and some of the dialogue curtailed. Acts Three +and Four want very little revision, and it would have been easy to +introduce one or two female characters and perhaps a second love +interest. Some light-comedy love scenes would have helped to redeem the +gloom of the play and afforded a valuable contrast to the intensity of +the hero and heroine in their amorous converse. + +The dialogue is crisp and vigorous and the language at times of rare +beauty. It is a pity that such a work should be wasted, and it is to be +hoped that some manager will have the astuteness and ability to produce +it in a good acting form. The experiment would certainly be worth +trying. + +The play as a whole is certainly not one of its author's finest +productions. As has been said, it was written before he had mastered +stage technique and learned those secrets of dramaturgy which in later +years raised him to such a pinnacle of fame as a dramatic author. Yet it +can be said of it with perfect confidence that it is far and away +superior to nine-tenths of modern, and successful, melodramatic plays. +Indeed, whenever we discuss or criticise even the less important works +of Oscar Wilde we are amazed at their craftsmanship and delighted with +their achievement. The most unconsidered trifles from his pen stand out +among similar productions as the moon among stars, and his genius is so +great that work for which other writers would expect and receive the +highest praise in comparison with _his_ greatest triumphs almost fails +to excite more than a fugitive and passing admiration. + + + + +"THE FLORENTINE TRAGEDY" + + +An interesting story attaches to "The Florentine Tragedy," a short play +by Wilde which was produced on 18th June 1906, by the Literary Theatre +Club. + +The history of the play was related by Mr Robert Ross to a +representative of _The Tribune_ newspaper. + +"The play was written," he said, "for Mr George Alexander, but for +certain reasons was not produced by him. In April 1895, Mr Wilde +requested me to go to his house and take possession of all his +unpublished manuscripts. He had been declared a bankrupt, and I reached +the house just before the bailiffs entered. Of course, the author's +letters and manuscripts of two other unpublished plays and the enlarged +version of 'The Portrait of Mr W. H.' upon which I knew he was +engaged--had mysteriously disappeared. Someone had been there before me. + +"The thief was never discovered, nor have we ever seen 'The Florentine +Tragedy,' the 'Mr W. H.' story, or one of the other plays, 'The Duchess +of Padua'--since that time. Curiously enough, the manuscript of the +third play, a tragedy somewhat on the lines of 'Salome,' was discovered +by a friend of Mr Wilde's in a secondhand bookshop in London, in 1897. +It was sent to the author in Paris, and was not heard of again. After +his death in 1900 it could not be found. With regard to 'The Duchess of +Padua,' the loss was not absolute, for this play, a five-act tragedy, +had previously been performed in America, and I possessed the 'prompt' +copy. + +"To return to 'The Florentine Tragedy.' I had heard portions of it read, +and was acquainted with the incidents and language, but for a long time +I gave it up as lost. Then, after Mr Wilde's death, I had occasion to +sort a mass of letters and papers which were handed to me by his +solicitors. Among them I found loose sheets containing the draft of a +play which I recognised as 'The Florentine Tragedy.' By piecing these +together I was able to reconstruct a considerable portion of the play. +The first five pages had gone, and there was another page missing, but +some 400 lines of blank verse remained. Now the introductory scene of +the single act of which the play consists has been rewritten by Mr +Sturge Moore, and the 'Tragedy' will be presented to an English audience +for the first time at the King's Hall, Covent Garden, next Sunday. + +"On the same occasion the Literary Theatre Club will give a performance +of Mr Wilde's 'Salome,' which, as you know, cannot be given publicly in +this country, owing to the Biblical derivation of the subject. But +'Salome' has been popular for years in Germany, and it has also been +played in Sweden, Russia, Italy, and Holland." + +It seems that "The Florentine Tragedy" has also been played with great +success in Germany. It was translated by Dr Max Meyerfeld, and was +produced first at Leipsic, and afterwards at Hamburg and Berlin. +According to Mr Ross, "The Florentine Tragedy" promises to become almost +as popular with German playgoers as "Salome" is now. + +"The Florentine Tragedy," as already indicated, is a brief one-act +drama. There are only three characters: an old Florentine merchant, his +beautiful wife, and her lover. The simple plot may be briefly indicated. +The merchant, arriving suddenly at his home after a short absence, finds +his wife and his rival in her affections together at supper. He makes a +pretence at first of being profoundly courteous, and the ensuing +conversation (as need hardly be said) is pointed, epigrammatic, and +witty. Then the old man gradually leads up to what, it becomes obvious, +had been his fixed purpose from the beginning. He draws the lover into a +duel. This takes place in the presence of the wife, who, indeed, holds +aloft a torch in order that the two swordsmen may fight the more easily. +The contest waxes fiercer, and the swords are exchanged for daggers. +The wife casts the torch to the ground as the two men close with each +other, and the younger one falls mortally wounded. The ending is +dramatic. The infuriated husband turns to his shrinking wife and +exclaims, "Now for the other!" The woman, in mingled remorse and fear, +says, "Why did you not tell me you were so strong?" And the husband +rejoins, "Why did you not tell me you were so beautiful?" As the curtain +descends, the couple, thus strangely reconciled, fall into each other's +arms. + +The character of outstanding importance, of course, is that of the old +merchant. According to those who have studied the play, he is a +strikingly effective figure, most cleverly and delightfully drawn. In +the opinion of Mr Moore the part is one that would have fitted Sir Henry +Irving excellently well. The action of the drama occupies less than +half-an-hour. + +In this connection it may be well to recall the testimony of an Irish +publisher quoted by Mr Sherard in his "Life of Oscar Wilde." This +gentleman attended the sale of the author's effects in Tite Street, and +in a room upstairs found the floor thickly strewn with letters addressed +to the quondam owner of the house and a great quantity of his +manuscripts. He concluded that as the various pieces of furniture had +been carried downstairs to be sold their contents had been emptied out +on to the floor of this room. Presently a broker's man came up to him +and inquired what he was doing in the room, and on his replying that +finding the door open he had walked in, the man said, "then somebody has +broken open the lock, because I locked the door myself." This gentleman +surmises that it was from this room that various manuscripts that have +never been recovered were stolen! + +When the piece was produced by the Literary Theatre Club it suffered +from inadequate acting. Mr George Ingleton was quite overweighted by the +part of Simone, the Florentine merchant. It is a part that requires an +Irving to carry it through, or, at anyrate, an actor of great +experience, and for anyone else to attempt it is a piece of daring which +can only result in failure. + +It is curious that the denouement, which was so severely handled by the +critics when the play was produced in Berlin, was the part of the piece +that seemed most to impress an English audience. The epigram and the +praises of strength and beauty provoked no protest or dissatisfaction, +as those who had seen the German production expected they would, nor was +the audience in the least shocked when the wife holds the torch for her +husband and lover to fight, nor when, at the close of the encounter, she +purposely throws it down. This, of course, is the unlooked-for climax of +the piece, and the dramatic character of the situation completely saved +it. + + + + +"THE WOMAN COVERED WITH JEWELS" + + +Finally we have arrived at what must always be the most tantalising of +all Wilde's plays because the MS. has been lost and very little is known +about it. It had for title "The Woman Covered With Jewels." The only +copy of it known to exist, a small quarto book of ruled paper in the +author's own handwriting, was presumably stolen with the copies of "The +Incomparable and Ingenious History of Mr W. H. Being the true Secret of +Shakespeare's Sonnets, now for the first time here fully set forth," and +"The Florentine Tragedy," at the time of the Tite Street sale. But +little is known about the play--a very few privileged persons having +been favoured with a perusal of it, and the only information the public +have been able to gather about it is from an article by a well-known +book-lover that appeared in a weekly paper. I myself have not been able +to discover any further information. + +The play was in prose and, like "Salome," was a tragedy in one act. It +was written about 1896. + +According to the writer of the article referred to, it was "presented by +its author to a charming and cultured Mayfair lady, well known in +London Society." He goes on to say that she allowed a few well-known +_litterateurs_ to peruse it, but that the manuscript is now lost and +that he has not succeeded in tracing a second copy anywhere. There seems +to be some confusion here, for if this were the only copy it could not +have been stolen from the Tite Street sale, as, according to the +biography, was the case. One thing, at anyrate, appears certain, and +that is that there is no copy in existence, or rather--for if it was +stolen it must be in someone's possession--available at the present +moment. It would be interesting to know how the lady to whom the book +was presented came to lose it. Perhaps she herself destroyed it at the +period when so many of his friends were so anxious to conceal all traces +of their friendship with its author. Again, the MS. may only have been +lent her, and may have been returned by her to Wilde before the crash. +At anyrate, it seems incredible that he should have parted with the +manuscript without keeping even a rough copy. The point needs +elucidation. + +According to the writer of the article--"There is little doubt that the +lost tragedy by Wilde was intended originally--like 'Salome'--for Sarah +Bernhardt. It contains a part somewhat like her _Izeil_. The period of +the play is that of the second century after Christ, a century of +heresy and manifold gospels that had made the Church of the day a thing +divided by sects and scarred with schisms. Fairly vigorous Christian +churches existed at Athens and Corinth. From one of these there seceded +a most holy man. He withdrew into the desert, and at the time the play +begins was dwelling in a cave 'whose mouth opened upon the tawny sand of +the desert like that of a huge lion.' His reputation for holiness had +gone forth to many cities. One day there came to his cave a beautiful +courtesan, covered with jewels. She had broken her journey in order to +see and hear the wonderful priest who had striven against the devil in +the desert. He sees the strange, beautiful intruder, and, speaking of +the faith that was within him, tries to win one more convert to its +kingdom, glory, and power. She listens as Thais listened to Paphnutius. +The hermit's eloquence sways her reason, while her exquisite beauty of +face and form troubles his constancy. She speaks in turn and presses him +to leave his hermit home and come with her to the city. There he may +preach to better effect the gospel of the Kingdom of God. 'The city is +more wicked than the desert,' she says, in effect. + +"While they are talking two men drew near and gazed upon the unusual +scene. 'Surely it must be a king's daughter,' said one. 'She has +beautiful hair like a king's daughter, and, behold, she is covered with +jewels.' + +"At last she mounts her litter and departs, and the men follow her. The +priest has been troubled, tortured by her beauty. He recalls the melting +glory of her eyes, the softly curving cheeks, the red humid mouth. +Recalls, too, the wooing voice that was like rippling wind-swept water. +Her hair fell like a golden garment; she was, indeed, covered with +jewels. + +"Evening draws near and there comes to the mouth of the cave a man who +says that robbers have attacked and murdered a great lady who was +travelling near that day. They show the horror-struck priest a great +coil of golden hair besmeared with blood. Here the tragedy ends. + +"One sees that 'The Woman Covered With Jewels' is an outcome, and one +more expression, of that literary movement that gave us 'Salambo,' +'Thais,' 'Aphrodite,' 'Imperial Purple,' and many more remarkable works +of a school, or group of writers, who, wearied of the _jejune_, the +effete, and much else, have sought solace for their literary conscience +in a penman's reconquest of antiquity. Probably the old-world story of +Paphnutius and Thais inspired the tragedy and Maeterlinck's plays +suggested its technique. Who can know? Assuredly its tragic picture of +devotion, passion, cupidity, and murder would thrill and enthrall those +who could know it better than in this imperfect portrayal. 'The Woman +Covered With Jewels' is worthy of the pen that wrote 'Salome,' and 'The +Sphinx.' + +"Yet it is lost!" + + + + +PART IV + +THE WRITER OF FAIRY STORIES + + + + +THE FAIRY STORIES + + +A little girl who had kept her fifth birthday joyously in the garden of +her father's home went on the morrow to the great and grimy city which +was nearest to it. We were to visit the bazaars and buy books and toys. +As we went through the great square in which the Town Hall stands the +small hand in mine told me that here was something which we must stay to +consider. We stood at the base of the statue which the citizens had +raised in memory of a statesman's endeavour and success. She looked +steadily and long at the figure of which the noble head redeemed the +vulgar insignificance of costume and posture. "What did this man do, +uncle?" she asked, "that he has been turned into stone?" I was +dreadfully startled, for the horrid suspicion darted through my mind +that my little niece had remembered my talk with her father about modern +sculpture, and at five years old had already begun to pose. "Of course, +it had to be stone not salt in England," she went on to say, and I was +reassured; she at least was remembering Lot's wife. + +It was in the later spring of 1888, and when the evening post brought me +fresh from the press "The Happy Prince and Other Tales," the first +story told me that Oscar Wilde, of whom men, even then, had many things +sinister and strange to say, had yet within him the heart of a little +child. + +"High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy +Prince." + +"When I was alive and had a human heart I did not know what tears were, +for I lived in the Palace of Sans Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to +enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in +the evening I led the dance in the great Hall. Round the garden ran a +very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything +about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and +happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness, so I lived and so I died. +And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see +all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is +made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep." + +Here, strange to say, is the note of pathos which we hear again and +again in the volume of fairy stories which many men look upon as Oscar +Wilde's best and most characteristic prose work. Time after time they +make me murmur Vergil's untranslatable line _sunt lachrymae rerum et +mentem mortalia tangunt_. + +The felicity of expression is exquisite, and an opulent imagination +lavishes its treasures in every story. Our author has come into full +possession of his sovereignty of words and every sentence has its +carefully considered, yet spontaneous charm. Nevertheless, Oscar Wilde +makes the Linnet his mouthpiece in the fourth story "The Devoted +Friend." "'The fact is, that I told him a story with a moral.' 'Ah, that +is always a very dangerous thing to do,' said the Duck--and I quite +agreed with her." + +Dangerous though it is, Oscar Wilde essayed the endeavour. I do not +think that children would easily detect that _amari aliquid_ which makes +the fairy stories fascinating to minds that are mature, and I am sure +that many little ones have revelled in the Swallow's stories of what he +had seen in strange lands when he told "the Happy Prince of the red +ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile and catch gold +fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, +and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants who walk +slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their +hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as +ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that +sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey +cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, +and are always at war with the butterflies." + +I suppose it would shock the authorities of the Education Department at +Whitehall if it were suggested that the children in the Elementary Day +Schools should have for their reading lesson, sometimes, the volume of +"The Happy Prince and Other Tales, by Oscar Wilde, illustrated by Walter +Crane and Jacomb Hood"--but I think the starved and stunted imaginations +of the children in the great, cruel cities would revive and grow if this +could be done. + +But perhaps it would have to be an expurgated edition. The sad +consciousness of, and stern satire on, our social system might remain, +the children would take no hurt, and the weary school teachers would be +glad to hear and to read a children's fairy tale, which sets the student +thinking and makes the more worldly man consider his ways. But if I had +the editing of the book I would leave out here and there a sentence. + +"'Bring me the two most precious things in the city,' said God to one of +His angels; and the angel brought him the leaden heart and the dead +bird. + +"'You have rightly chosen,' said God, 'for in my garden of Paradise this +little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy +Prince shall praise me.'" The children would not like this, for in their +ears sound often the severe words of Sinai, "The Lord will not hold him +guiltless that taketh His name in vain," and I, who delight in the +beautiful prose poems, feel that here the dead artist was not at his +best. + +Some have said that there are no fairy stories like Oscar Wilde's, but +Hans Andersen had written before him, and Charles Kingsley's "Water +Babies" was published long before "The Happy Prince." The Dane managed +to touch on things Divine without a discord, and Charles Kingsley's +satire was not less keen than Oscar's, but he could point his moral +without intruding very sacred things into his playful pages, and I wish +that the two last sentences of "The Happy Prince" could be erased. + +It is the gorgeous colour and the vivid sonorous words that charm us +most. It is easy to analyse these sentences and to note how pearls and +pomegranates, and the hyacinth blossom, and the pale ivory, and the +crimson of the ruby, again and again glow on the pages like the +illuminations of the mediaeval missal; but each story has its own +peculiar charm. + +"The Nightingale and the Rose" is a tale full of passion and tenderness, +and sad in the sorrow of wasted sympathy and unrequited love. + +"Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, +and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor +is it set forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased of the +merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance of gold." + +I can fancy Oscar Wilde writing thus in the happy days of his early +married life in Chelsea, in the little study where his best work was +done, whilst memories of the Chapel of Magdalen murmured in his brain, +and he heard again the surpliced scholar reading from the lectern the +praise of wisdom which he transmuted into the praise of love which was +not wise. "It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed +for the price thereof. It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with +the precious onyx, or the sapphire. The gold and the crystal cannot +equal it: and the exchange of it shall not be for jewels or fine gold. +No mention shall be made of coral or of pearls: for the price of wisdom +is above rubies. The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall +it be valued with pure gold." + +Throughout "The Song of the Nightingale" there is a reminiscence of that +Song of Solomon which Wilde told a fellow-prisoner he had always loved. + +"Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a +man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would be +utterly contemned." + +In "The Selfish Giant" another note is sounded. As we read it we pass +into the mediaeval age, and we think of the story of Christopher. + +The giant keeps the garden to himself and the children that played in it +are banished, and thenceforward its glories are gone. In the garden of +the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in +it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. The Snow +covered up the grass with his great white cloak, and the Frost painted +all the trees silver, but anon there came a child who wept as he +wandered in the desolated garden, and the Selfish Giant's heart melted; +once again the children's voices are heard and the garden flourishes as +it did before, and the Giant grows old and watches from his chair the +children at their play. "I have many beautiful flowers," he said, "but +the children are the most beautiful flowers of it all," till at last the +grey old Giant finds again in his garden the child who had first touched +his hard heart--"but when he came quite close his face grew red with +anger, and he said, 'Who hath dared to wound thee?' for on the palms of +the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two +nails were on the little feet. 'Who hath dared to wound thee?' cried the +Giant, 'tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.' 'Nay,' +answered the child, 'but these are the wounds of love.'" + +"The Devoted Friend" is altogether in another vein. As the first story +is fragrant of the East and the second mediaeval in its memories, so the +third is Teutonic, and "Hans and the Miller's Friendship" reminds us of +the Brothers Grimm. Now that every child has the chance of reading the +German fairy stories, Oscar Wilde's tale will be compared with theirs, +but I think the children will like this one best for the simple reason +that, being written in exquisite English, nothing that has passed +through the perils of translation can have its charm. Children are +wonderful, because perfectly unconscious, critics of style. + +It is doubtful if readers will enjoy "The Remarkable Rocket" as they +will the other stories. The modern _milieu_ intrudes here and there. The +satire is keen and there are some clever epigrams. The Russian Princess +"had driven all the way from Finland in a sledge drawn by six reindeer +which was shaped like a great golden swan, and between the swan's wings +lay the little princess herself"--and we think that we are going to +enjoy again the atmosphere of Watteau, and are a little disappointed +when we find our author saying, "He was something of a politician, and +had always taken a prominent part in the local elections, or he knew the +proper Parliamentary expressions to use." And the story, alas! will +suggest over and over again painful thoughts which I would keep at a +distance when I read these other lovely tales. Was not this sentence of +evil omen? "'However, I don't care a bit,' said the Rocket. 'Genius like +mine is sure to be appreciated some day,' and he sank down a little +deeper into the mud." And the last sentence of all is terribly sinister. +"'I knew I should create a sensation,' gasped the Rocket, and he went +out." + +"The House of Pomegranates" was published in 1891, and is dedicated to +Constance Mary Wilde. Here, in a volume which the author frankly calls a +volume of "Beautiful Tales," is a very stern indictment of the social +system which, in his essay "The Soul of Man," Oscar Wilde had so +powerfully denounced. We know how profoundly that essay has influenced +the minds of men in every country in Europe. Translated into every +tongue it has taught the oppressed to resent the callous cruelty of +capital, but I doubt if its author was altogether as earnest as he +seems. Here, in the story of the young King, we have a lighter touch. It +is as though the writer hesitated between two paths. In the year 1895 +the wrong path had been taken if we may trust the record of a +conversation which took place in that year. + +"To be a supreme artist," said he, "one must first be a supreme +individualist." + +"You talk of Art," said I, "as though there were nothing else in the +world worth living for." + +"For me," said he sadly, "there is nothing else." + +But when Oscar Wilde dedicated "The House of Pomegranates" to his wife +the love of Beauty and the love of humankind still seemed to go +together. + +The young King is possessed with a passion for beauty. The son of the +old King's daughter, by a secret marriage, his childhood and early youth +have been obscure, and he comes into his kingdom suddenly. We see him in +the Palace where are gathered rich stores of all rare and beautiful +things and his love for them is an instinct. The author in some +exquisite pages tells us of the glories of the King's house. Here, as in +the other book of which I have written, the mind of the reader is helped +to realise how beautiful luxury may be. I must quote the description of +the young King's sleeping-chamber--"The walls were hung with rich +tapestries representing the Triumph of Beauty. A large press, inlaid +with agate and lapis lazuli, fitted one corner, and facing the window +stood a curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of powdered and +mosaiced gold, on which were placed some delicate goblets of Venetian +glass and a cup of dark veined onyx. Pale poppies were broidered on the +silk coverlet of the bed, as though they had fallen from the tired hands +of sleep, and tall reeds of fluted ivory bare up the velvet canopy, from +which great tufts of ostrich plumes sprang like white foam, to the +pallid silver of the fretted ceiling. A laughing Narcissus in green +bronze held a polished mirror above its head. On the table stood a flat +bowl of amethyst." + +But on the eve of the coronation, the King dreams a dream. He is borne +to the weavers' quarter and marks their weary toil, and the weaver of +his own coronation robe has terrible things to tell him. + +"In war," answered the weaver, "the strong make slaves of the weak, and +in peace the rich make slaves of the poor. We must work to live, and +they give us such mean wages that we die. We toil for them all day long, +and they heap up gold in their coffers, and our children fade away +before their time, and the faces of those we love become hard and evil. +We tread out the grapes, and another drinks the wine. We sow the corn, +and our own board is empty. We have chains though no eye beholds them; +and are slaves, though men call us free." + +"Sic vos non nobis!" The artist in words is still haunted by his master +Vergil's verses, and he had not listened to Ruskin all in vain. The +Pagan point of view is not that which prevailed in those happy months +when "The House of Pomegranates" was written. Perhaps Ruskin's socialism +made no very deep impression, but Christian Art had its message once for +Oscar Wilde. + +The young King sees in his dreams the toil of the weaver, and the diver, +and of those who dig for the red rubies, and when he wakes he puts his +pomp aside. In vain do his courtiers chide him, in vain do those whom he +pities tell him that his way of redress is wrong and that "out of the +luxury of the rich cometh the life of the poor." + +The King asks, "Are not the rich and the poor brothers?" + +"Ay," answered the man in the crowd, "and the name of the rich brother +is Cain." So the young King comes to the Cathedral for his coronation +clad in his leathern tunic and the rough sheepskin cloak of other days, +and when the wise and worldly Bishop has told him in decorous words even +the same as his own courtiers said. + +"Sayest thou that in this House?" said the young King, and he strode +past the Bishop, and climbed up the steps of the altar, and stood before +the Image of the Christ. + +But I must not be tempted to continue the quotation of this lovely +story, and will only give its closing words-- + +"And the young King came down from the high altar, and passed home +through the midst of the people. But no man dared look upon his face, +for it was like the face of an angel." + +Here once more is the music of the lectern which an Oxford man of years +ago cannot forget, and I wonder if this story of the young King was not +written some time before those others which complete the book. + +"The Birthday of the Infanta" does not give me the same delight. It is, +of course, clever, as all was that Oscar Wilde ever touched, but it is +cruel whilst it accuses cruelty. And now and then we have a sentence or +a phrase which seems to have escaped revision. The story of the little +dwarf who made sport for the princess and whose heart was broken when he +found that she was pleased, not by his dances, but by his deformity, is +not like its predecessor in the volume, and the picture of "the little +dwarf lying on the ground and beating the floor with his clenched hands" +did not need the awkward addition "in the most fantastic and exaggerated +manner." But every poet, of course, _aliquando dormitat_, and I would +rather appreciate than criticise. + +Two more stories complete this beautiful book and I think I have not +said yet how beautiful the type and binding and engravings are of this +edition of 1891 in which I am reading. If ever it is reprinted it should +have still the same sumptuous setting forth. + +Wilde himself described the _format_ of the book in the following +passage:--"Mr Shannon is the drawer of the dreams, and Mr Ricketts is +the subtle and fantastic decorator. Indeed, it is to Mr Ricketts that +the entire decorative design of the book is due, from the selection of +the type and the placing of the ornamentation, to the completely +beautiful cover that encloses the whole. + +"The artistic beauty of the cover resides in the delicate tracing, +arabesques, and massing of many coral-red lines on a ground of white +ivory, the colour effect culminating in certain high gilt notes, and +being made still pleasurable by the overlapping band of moss-green cloth +that holds the book together." + +"The Fisherman and his Soul," recalls many stories and is very weird in +its conception. We think of Undine and of Peter Schmeidel and his +shadow; and again there is a reminiscence of "The Arabian Nights." Yet +once more it is the old burden of the song "Love is better than wisdom, +and more precious than riches, and fairer than the feet of the daughters +of men. The fires cannot destroy it, nor can the waters quench it." But +in the story there is seen distinctly the strong attraction which the +Ritual of The Catholic Church had for Oscar Wilde. Those who have read +that fine poem, "Rome Unvisited," which even the saintly recluse of the +Oratory at Edgbaston could praise, will understand how in the story of +the "Fisherman and his Soul" it is written. + +"The Priest went up to the chapel, that he might show to the people the +wounds of the Lord, and speak to them about the wrath of God. And when +he had robed himself with his robes, and entered in and bowed himself +upon the altar, he saw that the altar was covered with strange flowers +that never had been seen before, and after that he had opened the +tabernacle, and incensed the monstrance that was in it, and shown the +fair wafer to the people, and hid it again behind the veils, he began to +speak to the people." + +And now I come to "The Star-Child--inscribed to Miss Margot Tennant." + +"He was white and delicate like swan ivory, and his curls were like the +rings of the daffodil. His lips, also, were like the petals of a red +flower, and his eyes were like violets by a river of pure water, and his +body like the narcissus of a field where the mower comes not." But his +heart was hard and his soul was selfish, and his evil ways wrought +mischief all around; so bitter sorrow fell upon him and his comeliness +departed, and in pain and grief he was purged from his sin. + +This last is indeed a beautiful story, and not once is there sounded the +mocking note of cynical disdain of men. If one had taken up this tale +and known not whose pen had traced it, he would not hesitate to place it +in his children's hands. + +Is it not good to think that tenderness and humility and patience are +seen herein to be more beautiful than all the precious things which are +loved so ardently by the artistic mind? I have shown, I hope, that in +both of these exquisite volumes, it may be seen that Oscar Wilde had +visions sometimes of the celestial city where the angels of the little +children do always behold the face of the Father. And if, as other +chapters of this volume may seem to show, the vision splendid died away +and faded all too soon, purgatorial pain came to the author, as to the +star-child in his story, and he who could build for his soul a lordly +pleasure house, and was driven forth from it, may enter it again when he +has purged his sin. + + + + +PART V + +THE POET + + + + +POEMS + + +If a keynote were wanted to Oscar Wilde's verse it might be found in a +couple of stanzas by the poet whose work perhaps had the greatest share +in moulding his ideas and fashioning his style. Charles Baudelaire, with +all his love of the terrible and the morbid, was an incomparable +stylist, and in these lines has almost formulated a creed of art. + + "La Nature est un temple ou de vivants piliers + Laissent parfois sortir de confuses paroles; + L'homme y passe a travers des forets de symboles + Qui l'observent avec des regards familiers. + + Comme de longs echos qui de loin se confondent + Dans une tenebreuse et profonde unite, + Vaste comme la nuit et comme la clarte, + Les parfums, les couleurs et les sons se repondent." + +We can picture to ourselves the young Oxford student studying these +lines over and over again till they had become part and parcel of +himself. + +Wilde himself has left it on record that he "cannot imagine anyone with +the smallest pretensions to culture preferring a dexterously turned +triolet to a fine imaginative ballad." In the majority of his poems, the +beauties of nature, flowers, the song of birds and the music of running +water are introduced either incidentally or as the _leit motif_. In +fact, he was responsible for the dictum that what English poetry has to +fear is not the fascination of dainty metre or delicate form, but the +predominance of the intellectual spirit over the spirit of beauty. + +That the expression of the beautiful need not necessarily be simple was +one of his earliest contentions. "Are simplicity and directness of +utterance," he asks, "absolute essentials for poetry?" and proceeds to +answer his own question. "I think not. They may be admirable for the +drama, admirable for all those imitative forms of literature that claim +to mirror life in its externals and its accidents, admirable for quiet +narrative, admirable in their place; but their place is not everywhere. +Poetry has many modes of music; she does not blow through one pipe +alone. Directness of utterance is good, but so is the subtle recasting +of thought into a new and delightful form. Simplicity is good, but +complexity, mystery, strangeness, symbolism, obscurity even, these have +their value. Indeed, properly speaking, there is no such thing as Style; +there are merely styles, that is all." + +There we have a clear, concise and catholic statement of his literary +creed, and none other was to be expected from one to whom Baudelaire, +Poe, Keats, and Rossetti were so many masters whose influence was to be +carefully cultivated and whose methods were worthy of imitation and +study. His views on the subject of simplicity in verse should be read by +all who desire to understand his method and do justice to his work. + +"We are always apt to think," he wrote, "that the voices which sang at +the dawn of poetry were simpler, fresher, and more natural than ours, +and that the world which the early poets looked at, and through which +they walked, had a kind of poetical quality of its own, and could pass, +almost without changing, into song. The snow lies thick now upon +Olympus, and its scarped sides are bleak and barren, but once, we fancy, +the white feet of the Muses brushed the dew from the anemones in the +morning, and at evening came Apollo to sing to the shepherds in the +vale. But in this we are merely lending to other ages what we desire, or +think we desire, for our own. Our historical sense is at fault. Every +century that produces poetry is, so far, an artificial century, and the +work that seems to us the most natural and simple product of its time is +probably the result of the most deliberate and self-conscious effort. +For nature is always behind the age. It takes a great artist to be +thoroughly modern." + +"Ravenna," the poem with which Oscar Wilde won the Newdigate Prize, we +find to be far above the average of such effusions, though possessing +most of the faults inherent in compositions of this kind. Grace and +even force of expression are not wanting, with here and there a pure +strain of sentiment and thought, and a keen appreciation of the beauties +of nature. Ever and anon we come across some sentence, some _tournure de +phrase_ which might belong to his later work, as for instance-- + + "The crocus bed (that seems a moon of fire + Round-girdled with a purple marriage-ring)." + +But for the most part the poem is rather reminiscent of "Childe Harold's +Pilgrimage," and is chiefly interesting by reason of the promise it +holds forth. + +The poems published in 1881 are preceded by some dedicatory verses +addressed to his wife which are characterised by great daintiness and +simplicity, instinct with tender affection and chivalrous homage. + +"Helas," which forms a sort of preface to the collection, is chiefly +interesting on account of the prophetic pathos of the lines: + + "Surely there was a time I might have trod + The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance + Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God." + +"Ave Imperatrix" will come as a surprise to those unacquainted with +Wilde's works. Most people would have thought the author of "Dorian +Gray" the last man in the world to write a stirring patriotic poem which +would not be out of place in a collection of Mr Kipling's works. A copy +of _The World_ containing this poem found its way to an officer in Lord +Robert's force marching on Candahar, and evoked the enthusiasm and +admiration of the whole mess. As a proof of the author's originality and +care in the choice of similes he purposely discards the modern heraldic +device of the British lion for the more correct and ancient leopards, +as: + + "The yellow leopards, strained and lean, + The treacherous Russian knows so well + With gaping blackened jaws are seen + Leap through the hail of screaming shell." + +There is a fine swing about the metre of this verse, and the description +of the leopards as "strained and lean" is a piece of word painting, a +felicity of expression that it would be difficult to improve on. The +whole poem is tense with patriotic fervour, nor is it wanting in +exquisitely pathetic touches, as for instance-- + + "Pale women who have lost their lord + Will kiss the relics of the slain-- + Some tarnished epaulette--some sword-- + Poor toys to soothe such anguished pain." + +or + + "In vain the laughing girl will yearn + To greet her love with love-lit eyes: + Down in some treacherous ravine, + Clutching the flag, the dead boy lies." + +That he should have written such a poem is proof conclusive of the +author's extraordinary versatility, and though a comparatively early +production is worthy to rank with the finest war poems in the language. + +Current events at that time attracted his pen for we find a set of +verses on the death of the ill-fated Prince Imperial, a sonnet on the +Bulgarian Christians, and others of a more or less patriotic character. +Few of these productions, however, invite a very serious criticism. They +were of the moment and for the moment, and have lost the appeal of +freshness and actuality. + +In "The Garden of Eros" we get a good insight into Wilde's passionate +fondness for flowers, to whom they were human things with souls. +Probably no other verses of the poet so well define and express this +master passion of his life. + + "... Mark how the yellow iris wearily + Leans back its throat, as though it would be kissed + By its false chamberer, the dragon-fly." + +or + + "And I will tell thee why the jacynth wears + Such dread embroidery of dolorous moan." + +or again + + "Close to a shadowy nook where half afraid + Of their own loneliness some violets lie + That will not look the gold sun in the face." + +I remember a lady telling me once that she was in a London shop one day +when Wilde came in and asked as a favour that a lily be taken out of the +window because it looked so tired. This looking on flowers as real live +sentient things was no mere pose with him. He was thoroughly imbued with +the conviction that they were possessed of feeling, and throughout his +poetical work we shall find endless applications of this idea. + +Of particular interest in this poem are the verses descriptive of the +various poets, his contemporaries. Swinburne he alludes to most happily, +as far as the neatness of phrase is concerned nothing could be better in +this regard than + + "And he hath kissed the lips of Proserpine + And sung the Galilean's requiem." + +William Morris, "our sweet and simple Chaucer's child," appeals to him +strangely. Many a summer's day he informs us he has "lain poring on the +dreamy tales his fancy weaves." His appreciation of Morris's verse is +keen and enthusiastic. + + "The little laugh of water falling down + Is not so musical, the clammy gold + Close hoarded in the tiny waxen town + Has less of sweetness in it." + +What a delicate metaphor that is, what an exquisite poet's fancy. Not +Keats himself could have surpassed the "clammy gold close hoarded in the +tiny waxen town"--it is worthy to rank with some of the daintiest +flights in the "Queen Mab speech," that modern Mercutios murder so +abominably. + +Like every verse writer of his time Oscar Wilde had felt the wondrous +influence of Rossetti, and no finer tribute to the painter could be +written than the lines-- + + "All the World for him + A gorgeous coloured vestiture must wear, + And Sorrow take a purple diadem, + Or else be no more Sorrow, and Despair + Gild its own thorns, and Pain, like Adon, be + Even in Anguish beautiful; such is the empery which Painters held." + +There is a stately splendour about the flow of "a gorgeous coloured +vestiture," and one pauses to admire the choice of the last word, and +can picture the poet's delight when, like an artist in mosaic who has +hit upon the stone to fill up the remaining interstice, he lighted on +the word. It is essentially _le mot juste_, no other could have filled +its place. So also is there a peculiar happiness in the use of "empery." +There is a volume of sound and meaning in the word that could with +difficulty be surpassed. + +In fact, in his choice of words Wilde always and for ever deserves the +glowing words of praise that Baudelaire addressed to Theodore de +Bonville-- + + "Vous avez prelasse votre orgueil d'architecte + Dans des constructions dont l'audace correcte + Fait voir quelle sera votre maturite." + +And when we come to a line like-- + + "Against the pallid shield + Of the wan sky the almond blossoms gleam" + +we realise how thoroughly the praise would be deserved, and linger +lovingly on the lilting music of the words and the curious Japanese +setting of the picture evolved. The poem ends on a note like the drawing +in of a deep breath of country air after a prolonged sojourn in towns. + + "Why soon + The woodman will be here; how we have lived this night of June." + +In "Requiescat" quite a different note is reached. The poem was written +after the death of a beloved sister; the sentiment rings true and the +very simplicity of the language conveys an atmosphere of real grief that +would have been entirely marred by the intrusion of any decorative or +highly-coloured phrase. The choice of Saxon words alone could produce +the desired effect, and the author has realised this and made use almost +exclusively of that material. Nor was he ill-advised to let himself be +influenced so far as the metre is concerned by Hood's incomparable +"Bridge of Sighs," and it was not in the metre alone that he availed +himself of that priceless gem of English verse-- + + "All her bright golden hair + Tarnished with rust, + She that was young and fair + Fallen to dust." + +is obviously inspired by + + "Take her up tenderly, + Lift her with care; + Fashioned so slenderly, + Young, and so fair!" + +But, on the other hand, Hood himself might well have envied the +exquisite sentiment contained in-- + + "Speak gently, she can hear + The daisies grow." + +The lines were written at Avignon, surely the place of all others, with +its memories and its mediaeval atmosphere, to inspire a poem, the dignity +and beauty of which are largely due to the simplicity of its wording. + +During this period of travel we are struck by two things. Firstly, how +deeply impressed the young poet was by the mysteries of the Catholic +Faith and how his indignation flamed up at the new Italian _regime_; +secondly, how apparent the influence of Rossetti is in the sonnets he +then wrote. + +His sympathies were all with the occupant of St Peter's chair. + + "But when I knew that far away at Rome + In evil bonds a second Peter lay, + I wept to see the land so very fair." + +and again + + "Look southward where Rome's desecrated town + Lies mourning for her God-anointed King! + Look heavenward! Shall God allow this thing + Not but some flame-girt Raphael shall come down, + And smite the Spoiler with the sword of pain." + +In "San Miniato" the influence of Rome upon the young man's mind finds +expression in words which might have been written by a son of the Latin +Church. + + "O crowned by God with thorns and pain! + Mother of Christ! O mystic wife! + My heart is weary of this life + And over sad to sing again," + +he writes, and ends with the invocation-- + + "O crowned by God with love and flame! + O crowned by Christ the Holy One! + O listen ere the scorching sun + Show to the world my sin and shame." + +Nor can it be wondered at that the devotion to the Madonna which forms +so essential a feature of the Catholic Faith should impress his young +and ardent spirit as it does nearly every artist to whom the poetic +beauty of this side of It naturally appeals. + +The Pope's captivity moved him again and again to express his +indignation in verse, and from his poem, "Easter Day" we can gather how +deeply he was impressed both by the stately ceremonial at St Peter's and +by the sight of the despoiled Pontiff. At this time also he seems to +have been more or less yearning after a more spiritual mode of life than +he has been leading, at least so one gathers from poems like "E +Tenebris" in which he tells us that-- + + "The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, + My heart is as some famine-murdered land + Whence all good things have perished utterly + And well I know my soul in Hell must be, + If I this night before God's throne should stand." + +That he had visions of a possible time when a complete change should be +worked in his spiritual condition seems clear from the concluding lines +of "Rome Unvisited." + + "Before yon field of trembling gold + Is garnered into dusty sheaves + Or ere the autumn's scarlet leaves + Flutter as birds adown the wold, + I may have run the glorious race, + And caught the torch while yet aflame, + And called upon the Holy name + Of Him who now doth hide His face." + +Apart from the light these poems throw upon his mental and spiritual +attitude at that period, they are extremely interesting as revealing the +literary influences governing him at the time. I have already referred +to the resemblance between his sonnets and the more finished ones of +Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and this point cannot better be illustrated than +by placing the work of the two men in juxtaposition. + +If we take, for instance, Rossetti's "Lady of the Rocks." + + "Mother, is this the darkness of the end, + The Shadow of Death? and is that outer sea + Infinite imminent Eternity? + And does the death-pang by man's seed sustained + In Time's each instant cause thy face to bend + Its silent prayer upon the Son, while He + Blesses the dead with His hand silently + To His long day which hours no more offend? + Mother of grace, the pass is difficult, + Keen as these rocks, and the bewildered souls + Throng it like echoes, blindly shuddering through. + Thy name, O Lord, each spirit's voice extols, + Whose peace abides in the dark avenue + Amid the bitterness of things occult." + +and compare it with "E Tenebris." We are at once struck with the same +mode of expression, the same train of thought and the same deep note of +pain in the two poems. + +And again take Wilde's "Madonna Mia"-- + + "I stood by the unvintageable sea + Till the wet waves drenched face and hair with spray, + The long red fires of the dying day + Burned in the west; the wind piped drearily; + And to the land the clamorous gulls did flee: + 'Alas!' I cried, 'my life is full of pain, + And who can garner fruit or golden grain, + From these waste fields which travail ceaselessly!' + My nets gaped wide with many a break and flaw + Nathless I threw them as my final cast + Into the sea, and waited for the end. + When lo! a sudden glory! and I saw + From the black waters of my tortured past + The argent splendour of white limbs ascend!" + +and compare it with Rossetti's "Venetian Pastoral" and "Mary's +Girlhood," and we can almost imagine that the painter was holding up +pictures to inspire the young poet. + + "Red underlip drawn in for fear of love + And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove," + +might almost have been written by Rossetti himself. + +More characteristically original are the lines-- + + "I saw + From the black waters of my tortured past + The argent splendour of white limbs ascend," + +from the "Vita Nuova," though one cannot fail to perceive a faint +Baudelairian note. + + "Where behind lattice window scarlet wrought and gilt + Some brown-limbed girl did weave thee tapestry," + +at once reminds us of the Rossetti influence. + +The poem itself shows considerable skill in construction and deftness in +the moulding of the sentences, moreover, there is a freshness in the +treatment of the theme that a less original writer would have found +great difficulty in imparting. Here again we see the Catholic note as +when he writes-- + + "Never mightest thou see + The face of Her, before whose mouldering shrine + To-day at Rome the silent nations kneel; + Who got from Love no joyous gladdening, + But only Love's intolerable pain, + Only a sword to pierce her heart in twain, + Only the bitterness of child-bearing." + +There is one especially fine bit of imagery-- + + "The lotus-leaves which heal the wounds of death + Lie in thy hand--" + +which bears the very truest imprint of poetry. + +With the poet's return to England, a reaction took place, and the sight +of English woodlands and English lanes caused a strong revulsion of +feeling. + + "This English Thames is holier far than Rome + Those harebells like a sudden flush of sea + Breaking across the woodland, with the foam + Of meadow-sweet and white anemone, + To fleck their blue waves,--God is likelier there + Than hidden in that crystal-hearted star the pale monks bear." + +The green fields and the smell of the good brown earth come as a +refreshing contrast to the incense laden atmosphere of foreign +cathedrals. And yet his fancy delights in commingling the two. In the +"violet-gleaming" butterflies he finds Roman Monsignore (he anglicises +the word by the way and gives it a plural "s,"), a lazy pike is "some +mitred old Bishop _in partibis_," and "The wind, the restless prisoner +of the trees, does well for Palestrina." + +He revels in the contrast that the refreshing simplicity of rural +England presents to the pomp and splendour of Rome. The "lingering +orange afterglow" is "more fair than all Rome's lordliest pageants." The +"blue-green beanfields" "tremulous with the last shower" bring sweeter +perfume at eventide than "the odorous flame-jewelled censers the young +deacons swing." Bird life suggests the conceit that-- + + "Poor Fra Giovanni bawling at the Mass, + Were out of tune now for a small brown bird + Sings overhead." + +His love of nature, his passion for flowers and the music of nature find +continued and ecstatic expression. + + "Sweet is the swallow twittering on the eaves." + +Everything appeals to him, "the heavy lowing cattle stretching their +huge and dripping mouths across the farmyard gate," the mower whetting +his scythe, the milkmaid carolling blithely as she trips along. + + "Sweet are the hips upon the Kentish leas, + And sweet the wind that lifts the new-mown hay, + And sweet the fretful swarms of grumbling bees + That round and round the linden blossoms play; + And sweet the heifer breathing on the stall + And the green bursting figs that hang upon the red-brick wall." + +No matter that he mixes up the seasons somewhat and that having sung of +bursting figs he refers, in the next line, to the cuckoo mocking the +spring--"when the last violet loiters by the well"--the poem is still a +pastoral breathing its fresh flower-filled atmosphere of the English +countryside. Wilde is, however, saturated with classical lore and +(though on some minds the fantasy may jar) he introduces Daphnus and +Linus, Syrinx and Cytheraea. But he is faithful to his English land, he +talks of roses which "all day long in vales AEolian a lad might seek for" +and which "overgrows our hedges like a wanton courtesan, unthrifty of +its beauty," a real Shakespearean touch. "Many an unsung elegy," he +tells us, "Sleeps in the reeds that fringe our winding Thames." He +peoples the whole countryside with faun and nymph-- + + "Some Maenad girl with vine leaves on her breast + Will filch their beech-nuts from the sleeping Pans, + So softly that the little nested thrush + Will never wake, and then will shrilly laugh and leap will rush + Down the green valley where the fallen dew + Lies thick beneath the elm and count her store, + Till the brown Satyrs in a jolly crew + Trample the loosetrife down along the shore, + And where their horned master sits in state + Bring strawberries and bloomy plums upon a wicker crate." + +And yet the religious influence still makes itself felt. + + "Why must I behold [he exclaims] + The wan white face of that deserted Christ + Whose bleeding hands my hands did once enfold?" + +but it is only momentary, and once more he sports with the sylvan gods +and goddesses till + + "The heron passes homeward from the mere, + The blue mist creeps among the shivering trees, + Gold world by world the silent stars appear + And like a blossom blows--before the breeze + A white moon drifts across the shimmering sky." + +and he hears "the curfew booming from the bell at Christ Church gate." + +Wilde never wrote anything better in verse than this with the single +exception of "The Ballad of Reading Gaol." The poem deserves to rank +among the finest pastorals in the language. It is essentially musical, +written with artistic restraint and with a discrimination of the use of +words and their combination that marks the great artist. It is a true +nature poem and it will appeal to all those who prefer musical verse to +the artificial manufacture of rhymes, and simple sentences to the +torturing of words into unheard-of combinations. + +As a contrast to it comes the "Magdalen Walks" which, in construction +and rhythm, is somewhat lacking in ease and freedom. It is a curious +thing that Wilde's affections seemed to alternate between the unordered +simplicity of English woods and meadows and the trim artificial +parterres and bouquets of Versailles or Sans Souci. There is a +constraint about the metre of this poem which does rather suggest a man +walking along a trim avenue from which he can perceive flowers, meadows +and riotous hedges--in the distance. There is also a suggestion of +Tennyson's "Maud" about-- + + "And the plane to the pine tree is whispering some tale of love + Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green + And the gloom of the wych elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen + Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove." + +"Impression du Matin" might be said to be a successful attempt to render +a Whistler pastel into verse, but there is a human note about the last +verse that elevates the poem far above such a mere _tour de force_, and +there is a fine sense of effect in the picture of the "pale woman all +alone" standing in the glimmering light of the gas lamp as the rays of +the sun just touch her hair. + +"A Serenade" and "Endymion" possess all the qualities that a musical +setting demands, but do not call for especial comment. It is, however, +in "La Bella Donna della mia Mante" that the expression of the poet's +genius finds vent. + + "As a pomegranate, cut in twain, + White-seeded, is her crimson mouth" + +is as perfect a metaphor as one could well wish to find. + +"Charmides" is a more ambitious effort than anything he had yet +attempted. The word-painting is obviously inspired by Keats, for whose +work he had an intense admiration. Such lines as "Came a great owl with +yellow sulphurous eyes," and "Vermilion-finned with eyes of bossy gold" +might have been taken straight out of "Lamia," so truly has he caught +the spirit of his master. But if enamoured of Keats's gorgeous colouring +Wilde revelled in the construction of jewelled phrase and crimson line, +there is another source of inspiration noticeable in the poem. Had +Shakespeare never written "Venus and Adonis," Wilde might have written +"Charmides" but it would not have been the same poem. The difference +between the true poet who has studied the great verse of bygone ages and +the mere imitator is that one will produce a work of art enhanced by the +suggestions derived from the contemplation of the highest conception of +genius, whereas the other will outrun the constable and merely +accentuate and burlesque the distinguishing characteristics of the work +of others. In the case in point, whilst we note with pleasure and +interest the points of resemblance between the poem and the models that +its author has followed, we are conscious that what we are reading is a +work of art in itself and that its intrinsic merits are enhanced by the +points of resemblance and do not depend on them for their existence. + +There is another poem--"Ballade de Marguerite"--which recalls memories +of Keats, closely resembling as it does "La Belle Dame Sans Merci." +Rarely has the old ballad form been more successfully treated. We catch +the very spirit of mediaevalism in the lines-- + + "Perchance she is kneeling in St. Denys + (On her soul may our Lady have grammercy!) + Ah, if she is praying in lone chapelle + I might swing the censer and ring the bell." + +It is so easy to overdo the thing, to produce a bad counterfeit made up +of Wardour Street English, that to retain the simplicity of language and +the slight _soupcon_ of Chaucerian English requires all the skill of a +master craftsman, and the intimate knowledge of the value and date of +words that can only result from a close acquaintance with the works of +the ballad writers. + +In "The Dole of the King's Daughter" Wilde again essays the ballad form, +but this time the treatment shows more traces of the Rossetti influence. +The ballad spirit is maintained with unerring skill and the form +perfectly adhered to throughout. To quote good old Izaak +Walton--"old-fashioned poetry but choicely good." + +As conveying the idea of impending tragedy nothing could be more +effective than the simplicity of the lines + + "There are two that ride from the south and east + And two from the north and west, + For the black raven a goodly feast + For the king's daughter rest." + +In this ballad as in the "Chanson" he uses the old device, so common in +ancient ballads, of making the alternate lines parenthetical, as, for +instance-- + + "There is one man who loves her true, + (Red, O red, is the stain of gore!) + He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew, + (One grave will do for four)." + +A rather clever parody of this mode of construction is worth quoting +here-- + +"SAGE GREEN" + +(_By a Fading-out AEsthete_) + + "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!_) + + Her face is as wan as the water white. + (_The Peacock blue has a sacred sheen!_) + Alack! she heedeth it never at all. + (_Sing Hey! Sing Ho! for the sweet Sage Green!_) + + The China plate it is pure on the wall. + (_The Peacock blue has a sacred sheen!_) + With languorous loving and purple pain. + (_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!_)" + +Among the sonnets written at this period the one on Keats's grave in +which he does homage to him whom he reverenced as a master is especially +felicitous in its ending-- + + "Thy name was writ in water--it shall stand + And tears like mine will keep thy memory green + As Isabella did her Basil-tree." + +Than the graceful introducing of Keats's poem no more delicate epitaph +could be well imagined. Shelley's last resting-place likewise inspired +his pen and there is an "Impression de Voyage" written at Katakolo at +the period of his visit to Greece in company with Professor Mahaffy, the +concluding line of which, "I stood upon the soil of Greece at last," +conveys more by its reticence than could be expressed in volumes. + +Of his five theatrical sonnets headed "Impressions de Theatre," one is +addressed to the late Sir Henry Irving and the three others to Miss +Ellen Terry. It is curious that of the three Shakespearean characters he +mentioned as worthier of the actor's great talents than Fabiendei +Franchi--viz. Lear, Romeo, and Richard III.,--the only one that Irving +ever played was Romeo, and in that part he was a decided failure, which, +considering his peculiar mannerisms and method, as well as his age at +the time, was not to be wondered at. The fifth was probably intended for +Madame Sarah Bernhardt, whose wonderful rendering of Phedre could not +fail to deeply impress so cultured a critic as the author of these +poems. + +In "Panthea" Oscar Wilde gives rein to his amorous fancy, and, inspired +by the poets of Greece and Rome, peoples the world with gods and +goddesses who mourn the old glad pagan days-- + + "Back to their lotus-haunts they turn again + Kissing each other's mouths, and mix more deep + The poppy-seeded draught which brings soft purple-lidded sleep." + +How rich is the language here employed, how exquisite the lilt of "soft +purple-lidded sleep." Not even Tennyson in "The Lotus Eaters" has done +anything better than this. And how delicately expressed is the idea +embodied in the lines-- + + "There in the green heart of some garden close + Queen Venus with the shepherd at her side, + Her warm soft body like the briar rose + Which should be white yet blushes at its pride--" + +or, how tender the fancy that inspired + + "So when men bury us beneath the yew + Thy crimson-stained mouth a rose will be, + And thy soft eyes lush bluebells dimmed with dew." + +None but a poet could have written those lines; the stately wording of +the second line is purposely chosen to enhance the perfect simplicity of +the third. + +The poems comprised within "The Fourth Movement" include the +"Impression," "Le Reveillon," the first verse of which runs-- + + "The sky is laced with fitful red, + The circling mists and shadows flee, + The dawn is rising from the sea, + Like a white lady from her bed--" + +which inspired the parodist with-- + +"MORE IMPRESSIONS" + +(_By Oscuro Wildgoose_) + +DES SPONETTES + + "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." + +I quote the two parodies to show how little Oscar Wilde's verse was +appreciated by his contemporaries. There is an unfairness and +misrepresentation about them which is significant of how the poet's +poses and extravagancies had prejudiced the public mind. + +In the two love poems "Apologia" and "Quia multi Amori" a deeper key is +struck, and a note of pain predominates. There is a restraint about the +versification and the colour of the words that strikes the right chord +and tunes the lyre to a subdued note. + +The underlying passion and regret find their supreme expression in the +lines-- + + "Ah! hadst thou liked me less and loved me more, + Through all those summer days of joy and rain, + I had not now been sorrow's heritor + Or stood a lackey in the House of Pain." + +The "hadst thou liked me less and loved me more" deserves to pass into +the language with Richard Lovelace's + + "I could not love thee, dear, so much, + Loved I not honour more." + +In "Humanitad" we get a view of the country in winter time, and + + "The gaunt bittern stalks among the reeds + And flaps his wings, and stretches back his neck, + And hoots to see the moon; across the meads + Limps the poor frightened hare, a little speck; + And a stray seamew with its fretful cry + Flits like a sudden drift of snow against the dull grey sky." + +The picture is complete, we see the bare countryside, the sky grey with +impending snow, and the animal life introduced uttering nature's cry of +desolation. But hope is not dead in the poet's breast; he sees where, +when springtime comes, "nodding cowslips" will bloom again and the hedge +on which the wild rose--"That sweet repentance of the thorny +briar"--will blossom out. He runs through the whole flower calendar, +using the old English names "boy's-love," "sops in wine," and +"daffodillies." + + "Soon will the glade be bright with bellamour + The flower which wantons love and those sweet nuns + Vale-lilies in their snowy vestiture, + Will tell their beaded pearls, and carnations + With mitred dusky leaves will scent the wind + And straggling traveller's joy each hedge with yellow stars will bind." + +Once more we note how the flowers are personalities for him, a view +which could not long escape the humorists of _Punch_, and which was +amply taken advantage of by the writer of some burlesque verses, two of +which are sufficiently amusing to quote-- + + "My long lithe lily, my languid lily, + My lank limp lily-love, how shall I win-- + Woo thee to wink at me? Silver lily, + How shall I sing to thee, softly, or shrilly? + What shall I weave for thee--which shall I spin-- + Rondel, or rondeau, or virelay? + Shall I buzz like a bee, with my face thrust in + Thy choice, chaste chalice, or choose me a tin + Trumpet, or touchingly, tenderly play + On the weird bird-whistle, _sweeter than sin_, + That I bought for a halfpenny, yesterday? + + 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 stilly; + 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!" + +Nature appeals to Oscar Wilde in all her moods, and though he might at +times assume the pose of preferring art to nature, he gives expression +to his real feelings when he exclaims: + + "Ah! somehow life is bigger after all + Than any painted Angel could we see + The God that is within us!" + +The lines speak for themselves and are strongly indicative of his +attitude towards nature and art at that period. The true spirit of +Catholicism had gripped him; the influence of Rome was at work, though +enfeebled, and remained latent within him till in his hour of passing he +found peace in the bosom of the great Mother, who throughout the ages +has always held out her arms to the sinner and the outcast. + +There has always been a certain amount of mystery attached to another +poem of Wilde's called "The Harlot's House," written at the same period +as "The Duchess of Padua" and "The Sphinx"--that is, when he was living +in the Hotel Voltaire. It was originally published in a magazine not +later than June 1885. It is a curious thing that all researches up to +the present as to the name of the publication have proved fruitless, and +that the approximate date of the appearance of the verses has been +arrived at by reference to a parody entitled "The Public House," which +appeared in _The Sporting Times_, of all papers in the world, on 13th +June 1885. First, an edition of the poem was brought out privately by +the Methuen Press in 1904 with five illustrations by Althea Gyles, in +which the bizarre note is markedly, though artistically, dominant. +Another edition was privately printed in London in 1905 in paper +wrappers. + +The idea of this short lyrical poem is that the poet stands outside a +house and watches the shadows of the puppet dancers "race across the +blind." + +"The dancers swing in a waltz of Strauss"--the "Treues Liebes +Herz"--"like strange mechanical grotesques" or "black leaves wheeling in +the wind." The marionettes whirl in the ghostly dance, and---- + + "Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed + A phantom lover to her breast, + Sometimes they seemed to try and sing." + +The man turns to his companion and remarks that "the dead are dancing +with the dead," but drawn by the music she enters the house. As Love +enters the house of Lust the gay seductive music changes to a discord, +and the horrible shadows disappear. Then the dawn breaks, creeping down +the silent street "like a frightened girl." + +That is all, but as a high specimen of imagina-verse it stands alone. +That the author was inspired by memories of Baudelaire and Poe is beyond +dispute. Nevertheless, the poem, in conception as well as execution, is +essentially original. The puppet dancers' _motif_ was afterwards +introduced by him with telling effect as we shall see later in "The +Ballad of Reading Gaol." Hardly ever have the bizarre and the _macabre_ +been used with such artistic effect as in this short poem, nor have the +imaginative gifts of its author ever found a finer scope. If he had +written nothing else than these lines they would confer immortality on +him. Like all truly great work they are imperishable and will form part +of English literature when far more widely read effusions are set aside +and forgotten. + +I have remarked on the original character of the poem in spite of its +obvious sources of inspiration, and there can be no better way of +verifying this than by giving an example of Baudelaire's own incursion +into puppet land-- + +"DANSE MACABRE" + + "_Fiere, autant qu'un vivant, de sa noble stature, + Avec son gros bouquet son mouchoir et ses gants, + Elle a la nonchalance et la desinvolture + D'un coquette maigre aux airs extravagants._ + + _Vit-on jamais au bal une taille plus mince? + Sa robe exageree, en sa royale ampleur, + S'ecroule abondamment sur un pied sec que pince + Un soulier pomponne, joli comme une fleur._ + + _La ruche qui se joue au bord des clavicules, + Comme un ruisseau lascif qui se frotte au rocher, + Defend pudiquement des lazzi ridicules + Les funebres appas qu'elle tient a cacher._ + + _Ses yeux profonds sont faits de vide et de tenebres, + Et son crane, de fleurs artistement coiffe, + Oscille mollement sur ses freles vertebres, + --O charme d'un neant follement attife!_ + + _Aucuns t'appelleront une caricature, + Qui ne comprennent pas, amants ivres de chair, + L'elegance sans nom de l'humaine armature, + Tu reponds, grand squelette, a mon gout le plus cher!_ + + _Viens-tu troubler, avec ta puissante grimace, + La fete de la Vie? ou quelque vieux desir, + Eperonnant encor ta vivant carcasse, + Te pousse-t-il, credule, au sabbat du Plaisir?_ + + _Au chant des violons, aux flammes des bougies, + Esperes-tu chasser ton cauchemar moqueur, + Et viens-tu demander au torrent des orgies + De rafraichir l'enfer allume dans ton coeur?_ + + _Inepuisable quits de sottise et de fautes! + De l'antique douleur eternel alambic! + A travers le treillis recourbe de tes cotes + Je vois, errant encor, l'insatiable aspic._ + + _Pour dire vrai, je crains que ta coquetterie + Ne trouve pas un prix digne de ses efforts; + Qui, de ces soeurs mortels, entend la raillerie? + Les charmes de l'horreur n'enivrent que les forts!_ + + _Le gouffre de tes yeux, plein d'horrible pensees, + Exhale le vertige, et les danseurs prudents + Ne contempleront pas sans d'ameres nausees + Le sourire eternel de tes trente-deux dents._ + + _Pourtant, qui n'a serre dans ses bras un squelette, + Et qui ne s'est nourri des choses du tombeau? + Qu'importe le parfum, l'habit ou la toilette? + Qui fait le degoute montre qu'il se croit beau._ + + _Bayadere sans nez, irresistible gouge, + Dis donc a ces danseurs qui font les offusques: + 'Fiers mignons, malgre l'art des poudres et du rouge, + Vous sentez tous la mort!' O squelettes musques._ + + _Antinous fletris, dandys a face glabre, + Cadavres vernisses, lovelaces chenus, + Le branle universel de la danse macabre + Vous entraine en des lieux qui ne sont pas connus!_ + + _Des quais froids de la Seine aux bords brulants du Gange, + Le troupeau mortel saute et se pame, sans voir, + Dans un trou du plafond la trompette de l'Ange + Sinistrement beante ainsi qu'un tromblon noir._ + + _En tout climat, sous ton soleil, la Mort t'admire + En tes contorsions, risible Humanite, + Et souvent, comme toi, se parfumant de myrrhe, + Mele son ironie a ton insanite!_" + +The French poem lacks the simplicity and the directness of its English +fellow. It appears overloaded and artificial in comparison, and above +all it lacks the music which results from the juxtaposition of the +Anglo-Saxon a, e, i, and u sounds, and the Latin ahs and ohs. + +But, on the other hand, as an example of the precious and artificial in +literature, a further poem of Wilde's written at this period, "The +Sphinx," reveals another phase of his extraordinarily versatile genius. + +The metre of the poem is the same as that of "In Memoriam," though, +owing to the stanzas being arranged in two long lines instead of the +fairly short ones in Tennyson's poem, this might at first escape +attention. The poet at the time of writing we learn had + + "hardly seen + Some twenty summers cast their green for Autumn's gaudy liveries." + +(which would seem to indicate that this part, at any rate, was written +at an earlier period than the rest of the poem), and in the very first +lines he tells us that-- + + "In a dim corner of my rooms far longer than my fancy thinks + A beautiful and silent sphinx has watched me through the silent gloom." + +Day and night-- + + "this curious cat + Lies crouching on the Chinese mat with eyes of satin rimmed with gold." + +Here we have in a very few words an exact picture of this "exquisite +grotesque half-woman and half-animal," whom, after the manner of Edgar +Allan Poe with his raven, he proceeds to apostrophise-- + + "Oh tell me" [he begins] "were you standing by when Isis to Osiris + knelt? + And did you watch the Egyptian melt her union for Antony?" + +and plies her with many questions of similar nature. Presently he +adjures her-- + + "Lift up your large black satin eyes which are like cushions where one + sinks! + Fawn at my feet, Sphinx! and sing me all your memories." + +This idea of comparing the velvet depths of the eyes to "cushions where +one sinks" is quaint and original, though distinctly decadent, nor is +the note of the _macabre_ wanting, as-- + + "When through the purple corridors the screaming scarlet Ibis flew + In terror, and a horrid dew dripped from the moaning mandragores." + +There is a wonderful use of contrast in the introduction of sweating +mandragores in connection with the purple of the corridors and the +scarlet plumage of the Ibis. How daring, likewise, the grotesque note +introduced as he recites the catalogue of her possible lovers and asks-- + + "Did giant Lizards come and couch before you on the reedy banks? + Did Gryphons with great metal flanks leap on you in your trampled + couch? + Did monstrous hippopotami come sidling towards you in the mist? + Did gilt-scaled dragons writhe and twist with passion as you passed + them by?" + +The speaker will find out the secret of her amours. There is nothing too +bizarre, too monstrous to include in the list. + + "Had you shameful secret quests" [he asks] "and did you hurry to your + home + Some nereid coiled in amber foam with curious rock crystal breasted?" + +Not Baudelaire himself could have invented anything more precious than +the description of this sea-nymph, but the gruesome must be introduced. +"Did you," he inquires, + + "Steal to the border of the bar and swim across the silent lake? + And slink into the vault and make the Pyramid your lupanar, + Till from each black sarcophagus rose up the painted swathed dead?" + +Wilde catalogues through the whole Egyptian mythology; he is inclined to +give first place to "Ammon." + + "You kissed his mouth with mouths of flame: you made the horned god + your own: + You stood behind him on his throne: you called him by his secret name. + You whispered monstrous oracles into the caverns of his ears: + With blood of goats and blood of steers you taught him monstrous + miracles." + +Decadent the idea may be, but how cleverly, how subtly the effects are +produced and how well sustained is the atmosphere of chimerical, +nightmare horrors. Wilde makes use of the impression derived from the +contemplation of colossal figures--the Egyptian galleries of the Louvre +were, one may be certain, a daily haunt of his at the time--and he +describes--"Nine cubits span" and his limbs are "Widespread as a tent at +noon," but he was of flesh and blood for all that. + + "His thick soft throat was white as milk and threaded with thin veils + of blue," + +and he was royally clad, for-- + + "Curious pearls like frozen dew were embroidered on his flaming silk." + +His love of rare and beautiful things finds an outlet in the description +of the jewels and retinue of the god. + + "Before his gilded galliot ran naked vine-wreathed corybantes, + And lines of swaying elephants knelt down to draw his chariot." + +Barbaric splendour and Eastern gorgeousness we have here and in one line +the sense of immense wealth is conveyed-- + + "The meanest cup that touched his lips was fashioned from a chrysolite." + +But now-- + + "The god is scattered here and there: deep hidden in the windy sand + I saw his giant granite hand still clenched in impotent despair." + +And he bids her-- + + "Go seek the fragments on the moor and wash them in the evening dew, + And from their pieces make anew thy mutilated paramour." + +With mocking irony he tells her to "wake mad passions in the senseless +stone." + +He counsels her to return to Egypt, her lovers are not dead-- + + "They will rise up and hear your voice + And clash their cymbals and rejoice and run to kiss your mouth!..." + +He advises to-- + + "Follow some raving lion's spoor across the copper-coloured plain," + +and take him as a lover or to mate with a tiger-- + + "And toy with him in amorous jests, and when he turns and snarls and + gnaws + O smite him with your jasper claws! and bruise him with your agate + breasts!" + +But "her sullen ways" pall on him, her presence fills him with horror, +"poisonous and heavy breath makes the light flicker in the lamp." + +The poet wonders what "songless tongueless ghost of sin crept through +the curtains of the night." He drives the cat away with every +opprobrious epithet for she wakes in him "each bestial sense" and makes +him what he "would not be." She makes his "creed a barren shame," and +wakes "foul dreams of sensual life," and with a return to sanity he +chases her away. "Go thou before," he cries, + + "And leave me to my crucifix + Whose pallid burden sick with pain watches the world with wearied eyes + And weeps for every soul that dies, and weeps for every soul in pain." + +On this note of pessimism and refusal the poem ends. In the realm of the +fantastic it has no equal and though the objection may be raised that +the whole thing is unhealthy, the truth is that it is merely an +experimental excursion in the abnormal. It has all the fantastic +unreality of Chinese dragons, and, therefore, can in no way be harmful. +The nightmare effect has no lasting influence. We read it as we would +any other imaginative grotesque. But whilst we are alternately +fascinated and repulsed by the subject, we are lost in admiration of the +decorative treatment of the theme. The whole performance is artificial, +but so is all Oriental art. + +It is true that Baudelaire's poems, with their morbid, highly polished +neurotic qualities, had fascinated the young artist and exercised a +powerful influence over him, but "The Sphinx" was an achievement apart +and totally different from any other of his poems. It is more in the +nature of an extravaganza, an opium dream described in finely chiselled, +richly tinted phrases. Every young poet goes through various phases and +this was only a phase in the author's literary career. Nothing could be +better than the workmanship, and that the poem should so rivet the +attention and attract where it most repels is the greatest tribute to +the genius of its creator. It is essentially a weird conception +expressed in haunting cadences, an esoteric gem for all those who have +brains to think and the necessary artistic sense to appreciate really +good work. That persons of inferior mental calibre and narrow views +should be shocked by it is only to be expected, and the author himself +excused the delay in publishing it by explaining that "it would destroy +domesticity in England!" The original edition, it may be mentioned, was +published in September 1894 by Messrs Elkin Mathews and John Lane, and +was limited to two hundred copies issued at 42s. with twenty-five on +larger paper at 105s. It was magnificently illustrated by Mr C. R. +Ricketts, the delicacy and distinction of whose work is too well known +to need comment. + +In striking contrast to the artificiality and decadent character of "The +Sphinx" stands the author's imperishable "Ballad of Reading Gaol." What +the circumstances were that led to the writing of this great masterpiece +have been already sufficiently dealt with in the earlier portion of this +work. It has been aptly said that all great art has an underlying note +of pain and sorrow, beautiful work may be produced without it, but not +the work that is worthy to rank among the great creative masterpieces of +the world. "Quand un homme et une poesie," writes Barbey d'Aubrevilly, +"ont devale si bas dans la conscience de l'incurable malheur qui est +fond de toutes les voluptes de l'existence poesie et homme ne peuvent +plus que remonter." There can be no doubt that this poem could never +have been written but for the terrible ordeal the poet had been through. +It is incomparably Wilde's finest poetic work--great, not only by reason +of its beauty, but great on account of the feeling for suffering +humanity, his power to enter into the sorrows of others and to forget +his own trials in the sympathetic contemplation of the agony of his +fellow-sufferers which it reveals. The words of another distinguished +French critic might almost have been written about him: + + "Desormais divorcee d'avec l'enseignement historique, philosophique + et scientifique, la poesie se trouve ramenee a so fonction + naturelle et directe, qui est de realiser pour nous la vie, + complementaire du reve, du souvenir, de l'esperance, du desir; de + donner un corps a ce qu'il y a d'insaisissable dans nos pensees et + de secret dans le mouvement de nos ames; de nous consoler ou de + nous chatier par l'expression de l'ideal ou par le spectacle de nos + vices. Elle devient non pas _individuelle_, suivant la prediction + un peu hasardeuse de l'auteur de _Jocelyn_, mais _personnelle_, si + nous sous-entendons que l'ame du poete est necessairement une ame + collective, une corde sensible et toujours tendue que font vibrer + les passions et les douleurs de ses semblables." + +With Coleridge's "Ancient Mariner," "Reading Gaol," holds first place +amongst the ballads of the world, and by many critics it is held, by +reason of its deep feeling and anguished intensity, to be a finer piece +of work than the older poet's _chef d'oeuvre_. + +Although the author's identity was concealed under the cypher "C33," +there was never a moment's doubt as to who the writer was. It came as a +shock to the British public that the man who, but a couple of years +before, had stood in the public pillory, the man whose work the great +majority, who had never even read it, believed to be artificial, +meretricious, and superficial, should be the author of a deeply moving +poem that could be read by the most prudish and strait-laced. + +_The Times_, that great organ of English respectability, devoted a +leading article to it of a highly eulogistic character. The edition was +sold out at once, and the book was on all men's tongues. Wherever one +went one heard it discussed, priest and philistine were as loud in their +praises of it as the most decadent of minor poets. No poem had for a +generation met with such a friendly reception or caused such a +sensation. + +A critical notice of the poem from the pen of Lady Currie appeared in +_The Fortnightly Review_ for July 1904. In it the author writes of the +"terrible 'Ballad of Reading Gaol' with its splendours and inequalities, +its mixture of poetic farce, crude realism, and undeniable pathos." As +to the crudeness of the realism, that is a mere matter of opinion: it is +easy to supply an adjective--it is more difficult to justify the use of +it, and give satisfactory reasons for its application. Realistic the +poem doubtless is--crude, never, but the writer shows a far keener +appreciation when she says--"all is grim, concentrated tragedy from +cover to cover. A friend of mine," Lady Currie says, "who looked upon +himself as a judge in such matters, told me that he would have placed +certain passages in this poem, by reason of their terrible, tragic +intensity, upon a level with some of the descriptions in Dante's +'Inferno,' were it not that 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol' was so much +more infinitely human." + +Among the many laudatory notices that appeared at the time, there is an +extract from a review of the work taken from a great London paper and +quoted by a French writer which is worth reprinting as showing the +attitude of the press towards the poem. + + "The whole is awful as the pages of Sophocles. That he has rendered + with his fine art so much of the essence of his life and the life + of others in that inferno to the sensitive is a memorable thing for + the social scientist, but a much more memorable thing for + literature. This is a simple, a poignant, a great ballad, one of + the greatest in the English language." + +Never, perhaps, since Gray's "Elegy" had a poem been so revised, pruned +and polished over and over again as this cry from a prison cell. The +publisher was driven to the verge of distraction by the constant +alterations and emendations, the placing of a comma had become a matter +of moment to the fastidious author, but the work was published in its +entirety save for two or three stanzas concerning one of the prison +officials that it was deemed wise to suppress. + +The poem bears the dedication-- + + IN MEMORIAM + C. T. W. + Sometime Trooper of the Royal Horse Guards + Obiit, H.M. Prison, Reading, Berkshire + July 7th, 1896. + +The case of the trooper to whose memory the work is dedicated excited a +good deal of interest at the time. He had a fit of jealousy, murdered +his sweetheart, and though public opinion was inclined to take a +merciful view of the crime, and a petition was presented to the Home +Secretary for the withdrawal of the capital sentence, it was without +effect, and the extreme penalty of the law was carried out in the Gaol +at Reading. + +The first line-- + + "He did not wear his scarlet coat"-- + +rivets the attention at once, and as surely as do the opening lines of +"The Ancient Mariner." The reason for this is given at once-- + + "For wine and blood are red + And blood and wine were on his hands + When they found him with the dead." + +That the whole incident that led to the man's being there should be +communicated in the very first stanza, to make that stanza complete, is +an artistic necessity, and in the next two lines we are told who the +victim is-- + + "The poor dead woman whom he loved, + And murdered in her bed." + +The tragedy is complete. We have the picture of the soldier deprived of +his uniform and the whole story is revealed to us. A more concise or +supremely reticent description of the pathetic drama there could not be. +But the picture must be filled in even to the most trivial detail, and +we see the poor wretch taking his daily exercise among the prisoners +awaiting their trial, attired in "a suit of shabby grey," trying to +demean himself like a man and, trivial, but, from the artist's point of +view, important detail, with a cricket cap on his head. There is a world +of pathos and lines of unspoken tragedy in that cricket cap worn by a +man whose days are numbered, who never will play a game again and whose +mind must be occupied with thoughts far removed from sport and amusement +save perhaps when they may revert to happy days spent with bat and ball, +and which will never recur again. But though his step be jaunty, the +oppression of his impending doom is on him, + + "I never saw a man who looked + So wistfully at the day." + +We can see that prison yard, the circle of convicts pacing the +melancholy round at ordered intervals and with measured tread, and the +strong man, full of life and vigour looking up at God's blue sky and +drinking in the air with greedy lungs. We can see the author of the +poem, the erstwhile social favourite, in his convict garb walking + + "With other souls in pain + Within another ring." + +and his horror as he receives the information muttered by some +fellow-prisoner through closed lips that + + "That fellow's got to swing." + +In words, the simplicity and intensity of which are sublime, he tells us +of how the news affected him-- + + "Dear Christ! the very prison walls + Suddenly seemed to reel." + +That apostrophe to the Redeemer is a revelation in itself coming from a +man who is enduring his own mortal agony, but his particular sorrows +fade into insignificance and are forgotten in the presence of a +fellow-creature's crucifixion-- + + "And, though I was a soul in pain, + My pain I could not feel." + +Already he is purified by his months of trial and tribulation, and he +can enter sympathetically into the sorrows of others and share their +burden. + +He now understands the reason of the jaunty step and the defiant manner, +he himself has tried to flee from his thoughts. + + "I only knew what hunted thought + Quickened his step." + +He realises the meaning of that "wistful look" towards the vaulted +canopy of heaven. + +The man had killed the thing he loved. + + "Yet each man kills the thing he loves + By each let this be heard, + Some do it with a bitter look, + Some with a flattering word; + The coward does it with a kiss + The brave man with a sword." + +It has been objected that making sword rhyme with word is a makeshift, +but surely it is patent to anyone with any artistic sense whatever that +this forced rhyme avoids the danger of making the verse too facile, and, +far from being a piece of slovenly writing, is the well-thought-out +scheme of a perfect master of his craft. It is one of those stupid +objections that superficial critics are so apt to raise when utterly +devoid themselves of any sense of proportion or fitness. + +The idea that all men, young or old, kill the thing they love is not +only original but it is a very fine flight of metaphor--there is a whole +sermon in the conception, and Wilde elaborates the theme-- + + "The kindest use a knife because + The dead so soon grow old." + +It is as we read these lines that our thoughts are immediately directed +to "The Dream of Eugene Aram," that incomparable masterpiece of another +poet, who likewise was looked upon as a mere jester whose work should +not be treated seriously, but who has left us three of the finest and +most deeply moving poems in the English language. There is a striking +resemblance in the wording between the two poems, but without +disparaging Hood's work there can be no possible doubt as to which is +the greater and more noble achievement. + +Another stanza elaborates the theme still further and the fact is +recorded that though every man kills the thing he loves, yet death is +not always meted out to him. + + "He does not die a death of shame + On a day of dark disgrace, + Nor have a noose about his neck, + Nor a cloth upon his face + Nor drop feet foremost through the floor + Into an empty space." + +Within these grim prison walls all the horrible details of execution +obtrude themselves upon the wretched captive. He has tasted the horrors +of solitary confinement, of being spied on night and day by grim, +taciturn warders who, at frequent intervals, slide back the panel in the +door to observe through the grated opening that the prisoner is all +right. So he can feel all the torture that a man under sentence of death +must go through at having to + + "Sit with silent men + Who watch him night and day, + Who watch him when he tries to weep + And when he tries to pray." + +The ceaseless watch that is kept on the poor wretch lest he should be +tempted, given the opportunity, to "rob the prison of its prey" by doing +violence on himself, the whole grim ceremonial of the carrying out of +the law's decree are conjured up by him. He pictures the doomed man +awakened from sleep by the entrance of the Sheriff, and the Governor of +the Gaol accompanied by the "shivering Chaplain robed in white." He +dwells on the hurried toilet, the putting on of the convict dress for +the last time whilst the doctor takes professional stock of every +nervous symptom. It is to be hoped that the lines descriptive of the +doctor are purely imaginative--one must hope, for the credit of the +medical profession, that it has no foundation in personal experience. +Then there is the awful thirst that tortures the victim and another +introduction of an apparently trivial detail, "the gardener's gloves" +worn by the hangman. But the detail is not trivial, its introduction +adds to the ghastliness of the scene. The reading of the Burial Service +over a man yet living is another realistic touch that serves its +purpose. With him we can enter into the agony of the condemned wretch as +he prays + + "with lips of clay + For his agony to pass." + +Wilde proceeds with the strict narrative. He tells us how for six weeks +that Guardsman walked the prison yard still wearing the same suit and +his head covered with the same incongruous headgear. + +Still does he cast yearning glances at the sky, + + "And at every wandering cloud that trailed + Its ravelled fleeces by." + +But the man is no coward, he does not wring his hands and bemoan his +fate, he merely kept his eyes on the sun "and drank the morning air." + +The other convicts, forgetful of themselves and their crimes, watch with +silent amazement "The man who had to swing." He still carries himself +bravely and they can hardly realise that he will so soon be swept into +eternity; and then a perfectly mediaeval note is struck-- + + "For oak and elm have pleasant leaves + That in the springtime shoot: + But grim to see is the gallows-tree + With its adder-bitten root + And green or dry a man must die + Before it bears its fruit." + +There we have the true spirit of the old ballads. The comparison between +the oak and elm in the spring putting forth their leaves, and the gaunt, +bare timber of the gibbet with its burden of dead human fruit is a +highly imaginative and artistic piece of fantasy, though possibly a +poem of Villon's was in Wilde's mind at the time of writing. + +He gives us in the next stanza a picture of the murderer with noose +adjusted to his neck, taking his last look upon the world, and the drop +suggests another finely imaged comparison to him-- + + "'Tis sweet to dance to violins + When Love and Life are fair," + +and goes on so for another two lines before he brings in the +antithesis-- + + "But it is not sweet with nimble feet + To dance upon the air." + +The almost morbid fascination the sight of this man with his foot in the +grave exercises over him is undiminished, till one day he misses him and +knows that he is standing "In black dock's dreadful pen." He himself had +been through that dread ordeal and his spirit goes out to him whom he +had seen daily for a brief space without ever holding commune with him. + + "Like two doomed ships that pass in storm + We had crossed each other's way," + +he writes, and proceeds to explain that it was impossible for them to +exchange word or sign, as they never saw each other in the "holy" night +but in the "shameful" day. In a passage of rare beauty, one of the +finest in the poem, he explains-- + + "A prison wall was round us both + Two outcast men we were + The world had thrust us from his heart, + And God from out His care: + And the iron gin that waits for Sin + Had caught us in its snare." + +The lines in their supreme reticence indicate precisely the agony and +despair that filled the heart of C33, and once again a comparison with +"Eugene Aram" is forced upon us. + +The third period starts with a picture of the doomed man and a scathing +bit of satire directed against the prison officials. The wretch is shown +to us watched day and night by keen, sleepless eyes, debarred even for a +brief second of the privilege of being alone with his thoughts and his +misery. + +Then a small detail is introduced to heighten the effect of the grim +picture-- + + "And thrice a day he smoked his pipe + And drank his quart of beer." + +There is quite a Shakespearean note in this introduction of these +commonplace details, which proves how thoroughly Oscar Wilde had studied +the methods of the great dramatist. + +But he leaves the condemned cell to paint the effect the whole ghastly +tragedy being enacted within those grey walls had upon the other +prisoners. To a highly strung and supersensitive nature like the +writer's the strain must have been terrible. The captives went through +the allotted tasks of picking oakum till the fingers bled, scrubbing the +floors, polishing the rails, sewing sacks, and all the other daily +routine of prison life. + + "But in the heart of every man + Terror was lying still--" + +until one day, returning from their labours, they "passed an open +grave," and they knew that the execution would take place on the morrow. +They saw the hangman with his black bag shuffling through the gloom, and +like cowed hounds they crept silently back to their cells. Then night +comes and Fear stalks through the prison, but the man himself is wrapt +in peaceful slumbers. The watching warders cannot make out + + "How one could sleep so sweet a sleep + With a hangman close at hand." + +Not so with the other prisoners--"the fool, the fraud, the knave"--sleep +is banished from their cells, they are feeling another's guilt, and the +hardened hearts melt at the thought of another's agony. The warders, +making their noiseless round, are surprised as they look through the +wickets to see "gray figures on the floor." They are puzzled and +wonder-- + + "Why men knelt to pray + Who never prayed before." + +All through the long night they keep their sacred vigil. + + "The grey cock crew, the red cock crew + But never came the day," + +and their imaginations people the corners and shadows with shapes of +terror. The marionette dance of death of these ghostly visitants is as +fine a bit of word-painting as can be found any where. The idea is an +amplification of the _motif_ of "The Harlot's House," but how +immeasurably superior, how much more artistically effective the most +cursory comparison of the two poems will make apparent. + +At last the first faint streaks of day steal through the prison bars and +the daily task of cleaning the cells is performed as usual, but the +Angel of Death passes through the prison, and with parched throats the +prisoners, who were kept in their cells while the grim tragedy was being +enacted, wait for the stroke of eight, the hour fixed for the carrying +out of the sentence. As the first chimes of the prison clock are heard a +moan arises from those imprisoned wretches. At noon they are marched out +into the yard, and each man's eye is turned wistfully to the sky, just +as the condemned man's had been. They notice that the warders are +wearing their best uniforms, but the task they have just been engaged +upon is revealed "by the quicklime on their boots." The murderer has +expiated his crime, + + "And the crimson stain that was of Cain + Became Christ's snow-white seal." + +In his dishonoured grave he lies in a winding-sheet of quicklime; no +rose or flower shall bloom above it, no tear shall water it, no prayer +or benison be uttered over it. + +"In Reading Gaol by Reading Town," with a repetition of the stanza +embodying the theme that "all men kill the thing they love," the poem +ends. + +Truly a wonderful poem this. We close the covers of the book slowly, +almost reverently, our minds all saddened and attuned to a low note by +this gloomy picture of agony, torture and horror. We feel as if we had +been assisting at a funeral, and with hushed voices slowly make our way +back to the world of life and bustle. + +Wilde's place in poetry has yet to be settled, we have not yet had time +to focus his work into perspective. That he will rank amongst the very +greatest creative geniuses of the world, the men whose songs sway +nations, is doubtful, though time alone can tell us. + +The least that can be said is that there is a distinction about Wilde's +poetry that will always stamp it as the work of a great artist, and as +such it commands a high place amongst the best literary work that this +country has produced. + + + + +PART VI + +THE FICTION WRITER + + + + +FICTION + + +That the gift of composing beautiful verse and the ability to write +gracefully and wittily in prose does not of necessity enable an author +to produce good fiction, is a truism that requires no elaboration. That +the novelist should possess style is a _sine qua non_--that is, if his +novels are to take their place as works of art and not merely achieve an +ephemeral success amongst the patrons of circulating libraries--but to +achieve distinction in the field of romance many other qualities are +requisite. To begin with, the story must be of sufficient interest to +hold the attention of the reader, the dialogue must be brisk and to the +point, and the delineation of character--a gift in itself--lifelike and +convincing. + +Whether Oscar Wilde would, had his life been prolonged, have ever +achieved success in this branch of literature is one of those vexed +questions which may well be left to those speculative persons who love +to discuss "The Mystery of Edwin Drood" and other unfinished works of +fiction. That he was endowed with an extraordinarily vivid imagination +and that his versatility was marvellous are factors that no one should +neglect to take into account when considering the matter. His own +contributions to fiction are so few that they afford very little data +to go upon. They consist of "The Picture of Dorian Gray," published in +1890; "Lord Arthur Savile's Crime"; "The Incomparable and Ingenious +History of Mr W. H., being the true secret of Shakespeare's Sonnets, now +for the first time here fully set forth," the manuscript of which, after +passing through the hands of Messrs Elkin Mathews and John Lane, +publishers, who had announced the work as being in preparation, has been +unaccountably lost, although it is known that it was returned to the +author's house on the very day of his arrest. An article in _Blackwood's +Magazine_ alone enables us to gather some idea of the last work. Then we +have three short stories--"The Sphinx without a Secret," "The +Canterville Ghost," "The Model Millionaire," which complete the list of +Wilde's fiction in the limited sense of the word. + +A careful study of these remains must lead to the inevitable conclusion +that, so far as we can judge by these more or less fragmentary +specimens, Wilde's _forte_ was not fiction. He can in no sense be +regarded as a novelist, certainly not as an exponent of modern fiction. +The pieces are brilliantly clever, gemmed with paradoxes and quaint +turns of thought, but they are not fiction in the accepted sense of the +word. Works of imagination, yes, but "fiction," no. That he was a +graceful allegorist nobody can deny, but that his work in this other +field of letters was great is never for a moment to be even suggested. +He used fiction as a means of introducing his curiously topsy-turvy +views of life, but his characters are mere puppets, strange creatures +with unreal names, without any particular personality or especially +characteristic features, who enunciate the author's views and opinions. + +In a preface to "Dorian Gray," when it was published in book form, Oscar +Wilde himself confirms this view--"The highest and the lowest form of +criticism," he tells us, "is a mode of autobiography." That he himself +believed in the artistic value of his story is evident from the series +of brilliant aphorisms which constitute the preface. + +When in July, 1890, there appeared in an American magazine the fantastic +story of "Dorian Gray" an astonished public rubbed its eyes and wondered +whether all its previous theories as to this class of work had been +absolutely false and should henceforth be discarded like a garment that +has gone out of fashion. + +The story provoked a storm of criticism which, for the most part, only +served to increase the sale of the magazine in which it appeared. In +answer to his critics the author contented himself with the dictum that +"Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, +complex, and vital." Whether "The Picture of Dorian Gray" possessed +these three essential qualities is a question which may best be answered +by giving a short _resume_ of the story itself. Basil Hallward, a young +artist who, some years previously, had caused a great sensation by his +disappearance, has painted a full-length portrait of a young man of +"extraordinary personal beauty." In conversation with Lord Henry Wotton, +who is visiting the studio, he inadvertently reveals that it is the +portrait of Dorian Gray, and alleges as his reason for not exhibiting +the picture that he has put too much of himself into it; and, pressed +for an explanation, he tells the story of his meeting the original of +the painting at a Society function, and how deeply he had been impressed +by his extraordinary personality. He experiences a "curious artistic +idolatry" for the young man, and as they are discussing him the servant +announces "Mr Dorian Gray." We then get a word-picture of this +interesting young man, we are told that there was something in his face +which made you trust him, that it was full of the candour of youth and +passionate purity. During the sitting that follows, Lord Henry +enunciates his views of life, and his words leave a deep impression on +his youthful auditor. Dorian's acquaintance with Lord Henry soon ripens +into friendship, and he confides to his friend that he has fallen deeply +in love with Sybil Vane, a young actress he has accidentally discovered +in an East End playhouse. + +Late upon the same night on which the confidence was made Lord Henry +finds, on his return home, a telegram from Dorian Gray announcing his +engagement to the object of his affections. We are next introduced to +Sybil's shabby home in the Euston Road; to her mother, a faded, +tired-looking woman with bismuth-whitened hands, and to her brother, a +young lad with a thick-set figure, rough brown hair and large hands and +feet "somewhat clumsy in movement." The faded beauty of the elder woman +and her theatrical gestures and manners are deftly touched upon. The +son, whom we learn is about to seek his fortune in Australia, goes with +his sister for a walk in the park, and their talk is all of her love for +Dorian, of which he does not approve. Sybil catches sight of her lover, +but before she can point him out to her brother he is lost to sight. +They return home; the lad's heart is filled with jealousy, and a fierce +murderous hatred of the stranger who, as it seemed to him, had come +between him and his sister. Downstairs he startles his mother with a +sudden question--"Were you married to my father?" The woman had been +dreading the question for years, but she answers it in the negative, and +tells him that his parent was a gentleman and highly connected, but not +free to marry her. In the meanwhile, Lord Henry and Basil are +discussing the proposed marriage in the private room of a fashionable +restaurant, and presently they are joined by Dorian himself, who takes +part in the discussion, till it is time for them to go to the theatre. +His two friends are delighted with the beauty of his _fiancee_, but her +acting is below mediocrity, and the boy, who has seen her act really +well on previous occasions, is terrible disconcerted. + +Later, in the green-room, Sybil explains the reason of this falling off. +She is quite candid about it: she tells him she will never act well +again, because he has transfigured her life, and that acting, which had +before been a matter of reality to her, had become a hollow sham, and +that she can no longer mimic a passion that burns her like fire. +Flinging himself down on a seat, Dorian exclaims, "You have killed my +love," and after an impassioned tirade answers his own question of "What +are you now?" with "A third-rate actress with a pretty face." In vain +she pleads for his love; he leaves her telling her that he can never see +her again, for she has disappointed him. When, after wandering aimlessly +about all night, he returns home, he is suddenly conscious of a change +in the portrait Basil had painted of him. The expression is different, +and there are lines of cruelty round the mouth, though he can trace no +such lines in his own face. + +"Suddenly, there flashed across his mind what he had said in Basil +Hallward's studio the day the picture had been finished.... He had +uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain young and the portrait +grow old, that his own beauty might be untarnished and the face on the +canvas bear the burden of his passions and his sins." He is struck with +remorse for his cruelty to Sybil, and by the time Lord Henry comes to +see him has determined to atone for it by marrying her, but it is too +late. He learns from his friend's lips that Sybil has committed suicide +in the theatre shortly after he had left her. + +He spends the evening at the opera with Lord Henry Wotton, and his +sister, Lady Gwendolen. When, next day, he mentions this to Basil the +latter is horrified, but Dorian is perfectly callous and is inclined to +be flattered by the fact that the girl should have committed suicide for +love of him. + +Basil wishes to look at the picture, which he intends to exhibit in +Paris, and before which Dorian has placed a screen, but the latter will +not let him see it, and the former presently goes away greatly puzzled +by the refusal. When he is gone Dorian sends for a framemaker, and gets +him and his assistant to remove the draped picture to a disused room in +his house, having previously sent his man out with a note to Lord Henry +in order to get him out of the way. Having dismissed the framemaker and +his assistant, he carefully locks the door of the room and retains the +key. When he comes down, he finds that Lord Henry has sent him a paper +containing an account of the inquest on Sybil, and an unhealthy French +book which fascinates whilst it repels him, and the influence of which +he cannot shake off for years after. + +Time passes, but the hero of the story shows no signs of growing older, +nor does he lose his good looks. Meanwhile, the most evil rumours as to +his mode of life are in circulation. We learn that he is in the habit of +frequenting, disguised and under an assumed name, a little ill-famed +tavern near the docks, and we are given a long analysis of his mental +and spiritual condition, whilst his various idiosyncrasies are carefully +recorded, and we are insensibly reminded of the surroundings invented +for himself by the hero of Huysman's "A Rebours." + +All the while, the picture remains hidden away, a very skeleton in the +cupboard. Dorian Gray is nearly blackballed for a West End Club, Society +looks askance at him, and there are all sorts of ugly rumours current as +to his doings and movements. + +One night he meets Hallward, who wants to talk to him about his mode of +life. The painter enumerates all the scandalous stories he has heard +about him; he ends up by expressing a doubt whether he really knows his +friend. To do so, he says, he should have to see his soul. "You shall +see it yourself to-night," Dorian exclaims, "it is your handiwork," and, +holding a lamp, he takes him up to the locked room, and removes the +drapery from the picture. An exclamation of horror breaks from the +painter as he perceives the hideous face on the canvas grinning at him. +It fills him with loathing and disgust, and he has difficulty in +believing it to be his own work. Dorian is seized with an uncontrollable +feeling of hatred for his friend, and, seizing a knife lying on a chest, +stabs him in the neck and kills him. After the murder he locks the door, +and goes quietly downstairs. He slips out into the street closing the +front door very gently, and rings the bell. When his valet opens it he +explains that he had left his latchkey indoors, and casually inquires +the time, which the man informs him is ten minutes past two. + +The next day Dorian sends for a former friend of his, Alan Campbell, +whose hobby is chemistry, and after telling him of the murder, begs him +by some chemical process to destroy the body. Alan refuses to help him. +Dorian then writes something upon a piece of paper and gives it to the +other to read. Alan is terror-struck and consents to do what is required +of him, though reluctantly. When later, provided with the necessary +chemicals, they enter the locked room, Dorian perceives that the hands +of the picture are stained with blood. + +He dines out that night, and when he returns home he provides himself +with some opium paste he keeps locked up in a secret drawer, and having +dressed himself in rough garments makes his way to the docks. He enters +an opium den, but the presence of a man who owes his downfall to him +irritates him, and he decides to go to another. A woman greets him with +the title "Prince Charming" (the name Sybil had given him), and on +hearing it a sailor gets up from his seat and follows him. In a dim +archway he feels himself seized by the throat and sees a revolver +pointed at his head. Briefly, his assailant tells him that he is Sybil's +brother, and that he means to avenge his sister's death. A sudden +inspiration comes to Dorian and he inquires of the man how long it is +since his sister died. "Eighteen years," is the answer, and Gray +triumphantly exclaims "Look at my face." He is dragged under a lamp, and +at sight of the youthful face Sybil's brother is convinced that he has +made a mistake. Hardly has Dorian gone, when the woman who had called +him Prince Charming comes up, and from her the sailor learns that in +eighteen years Dorian has not altered. + +Dorian goes down to his country house, where he entertains a large party +of guests, though all the while he lives in deadly terror lest Sybil's +brother should trace him. During a _battue_ a man is accidentally shot +by one of Dorian's guests. It is at first thought that the victim of the +accident is one of the beaters but it turns out to be a stranger, a +seafaring man presumably. Dorian goes to look at the body, and to his +intense relief finds that the dead man is his assailant of some nights +back. + +Back in London one night Dorian Gray determines that he will reform, +and, curious to see whether his good resolutions have had any effect on +the portrait, he goes up to look at it. No, it still bears the same +repulsive look, and in a rage he stabs at it with the knife with which +he had murdered Basil. A loud agonised cry rings through the house, and +when the servants at last make their way into the room they find hanging +upon the wall a splendid portrait of their master as they had last seen +him, while lying on the floor with a knife through his heart was a dead +man "withered, wrinkled, and loathsome of visage," whom they could only +identify by the rings on his fingers. + +Such, shorn of all its brilliant dialogue and exquisite descriptive +passages, is the story of "The Portrait of Dorian Gray," in its bald +outlines. As an imaginative work it must rank high, and in spite of the +fantastic character of the plot and its inherent improbability, it +exercises a weird fascination over us as we read. That its author (more +even in the treatment than in the plot) was inspired by Balzac's +incomparable "Peau de Chagrin" is beyond question. In the one story we +have a man purchasing a piece of shagreen skin inscribed with Sanskrit +characters which, as each of its possessor's desires are gratified, by +its shrinkage marks a diminution in the span of his life. In the other, +whilst the original man remains outwardly unchanged, his portrait ages +with the years and reveals in its features all the passions and sins +that gradually transform his nature. In both cases the story ends in +tragedy. + +The colouring of the tale is one of its most remarkable features. In +passages of rare beauty Oscar Wilde gives us descriptions of jewels and +perfumes, rare tapestries and quaint musical instruments. The catalogue +of the jewels as set out by him deserves to be quoted for the marvellous +knowledge of precious stones it reveals as well as for the exquisite +description of them. + + "He would often spend a whole day settling and resettling in the + cases the various stones that he had collected, such as the + olive-green chrysoberyl that turns red by lamplight, the cymophane + with its wirelike line of silver, the pistachio-coloured peridot, + rose-pink and wine-yellow topazes, carbuncles of fiery scarlet + with tremulous four-rayed stars, flame-red cinnamon stones, orange + and violet spinels, and amethysts with the alternate layers of ruby + and sapphire. He loved the red-gold of the sunstone, and the + moonstone's pearly whiteness, and the broken rainbow of the milky + opal. He procured from Amsterdam three emeralds of extraordinary + size and richness of colour, and had a turquoise _de la vicille + roche_ that was the envy of all connoisseurs." + +It may here be pointed out, though the fact is not generally known, that +Wilde's knowledge of tapestry which, at first sight, seems so profound, +was obtained from Lefebure's "History of Embroidery and Lace," a book +which he had reviewed in an article having for title "A Fascinating +Book." It is interesting to compare an extract from that article with a +passage from the review under discussion: + + "Where was the great crocus-coloured robe, on which the gods fought + against the giants, that had been worked for Athena? Where the huge + velarium that Nero had stretched across the Colosseum at Rome, on + which were represented the starry sky, and Apollo driving a chariot + drawn by white gilt-reined steeds? He longed to see the curious + table-napkins wrought for Elagabalus, on which were displayed all + the dainties and viands that could be wanted for a feast; the + mortuary cloth of King Chilperic, with its three hundred golden + bees; the fantastic robes that excited the indignation of the + Bishop of Pontus, and were figured with 'lions, panthers, bears, + dogs, forests, rocks, hunters,--all, in fact, that a painter can + copy from nature'; and the coat that Charles of Orleans once wore, + on the sleeves of which were embroidered the verses of a song + beginning '_Madame je suis tout joyeux_,' the musical accompaniment + of the words being wrought in gold thread, and each note, of square + shape in those days, formed with four pearls. He read of the room + that was prepared at the palace at Rheims for the use of Queen Joan + of Burgundy, and was decorated with 'thirteen hundred and + twenty-one parrots, made in broidery, and blazoned with the king's + arms and five hundred and sixty-one butterflies, whose wings were + similarly ornamented with the arms of the queen, the whole worked + in gold.' Catherine de Medicis had a mourning-bed made for her of + black velvet powdered with crescents and suns. Its curtains were of + damask, with leafy wreaths and garlands, figured upon a gold and + silver ground, and fringed along the edges with broideries of + pearls, and it stood in a room hung with rows of the queen's + devices in cut black velvet upon cloth of silver. Louis XIV. had + gold-embroidered caryatides fifteen feet high in his apartment. The + state bed of Sobieski, King of Poland, was made of Smyrna gold + brocade embroidered in turquoises with verses from the Koran. Its + supports were of silver gilt, beautifully chased, and profusely set + with enamelled and jewelled medallions. It had been taken from the + Turkish camp before Vienna, and the standard of Mohammed had stood + under it." + + "Where is the great crocus-coloured robe that was wrought for + Athena, and on which the gods fought against the giants? Where is + the huge velarium that Nero stretched across the Colosseum at Rome, + on which was represented the starry sky, and Apollo driving a + chariot drawn by steeds? How one would like to see the curious + table-napkins wrought for Heliogabalus, on which were displayed + all the dainties and viands that could be wanted for a feast; or + the mortuary cloth of King Chilperic, with its three hundred golden + bees; or the fantastic robes that excited the indignation of the + Bishop of Pontus, and were embroidered with 'lions, panthers, + bears, dogs, forests, rocks, hunters--all, in fact, that painters + can copy from nature.' Charles of Orleans had a coat, on the + sleeves of which were embroidered the verses of a song, beginning + 'Madame, je suis tout joyeux,' the musical accompaniment of the + words being wrought in gold thread, and each note (of square shape + in those days) formed with four pearls. The room prepared in the + palace at Rheims for the use of Queen Joan of Burgundy was + decorated with 'thirteen hundred and twenty-one _papegauts_ + (parrots) made in broidery and blazoned with the King's arms, and + five hundred and sixty-one butterflies, whose wings were similarly + ornamented with the Queen's arms--the whole worked in fine gold.' + Catherine de Medicis had a mourning-bed made for her 'of black + velvet embroidered with pearls and powdered with crescents and + suns.' Its curtains were of damask, 'with leafy wreaths and + garlands figured upon a gold and silver ground, and fringed along + the edges with broideries of pearls,' and it stood in a room hung + with rows of the Queen's devices in cut black velvet on cloth of + silver. Louis XIV. had gold-embroidered caryatides fifteen feet + high in his apartments. The state bed of Sobieski, King of Poland, + was made of Smyrna gold brocade embroidered in turquoises and + pearls, with verses from the Koran; its supports were of + silver-gilt, beautifully chased and profusely set with enamelled + and jewelled medallions. He had taken it from the Turkish camp + before Vienna, and the standard of Mahomet had stood under it." + +Wilde, who at times was extremely indolent, had an amiable weakness for +using the material at hand, and throughout his writings we find whole +lines of verse and prose sentences reappearing in work produced at +another period. It is the same with the epigrams in "Dorian Gray," most +of which were subsequently transferred, bodily, to his plays. During his +travels in Italy, as I have already pointed out, he had been enormously +impressed by the stately ceremonials of the Catholic Church, and in this +book he uses his opportunity of introducing the ornate and sumptuous +vestments worn at her services. Dorian Gray, he tells us, "had a special +passion also for ecclesiastical vestments, as indeed he had for +everything connected with the service of the Church. In the long cedar +chests that lined the west gallery of his house he had stored away many +rare and beautiful specimens of what is really the raiment of the Bride +of Christ, who must wear purples and jewels and fine linen that she may +hide the pallid macerated body that is worn by the suffering that she +seeks for, and wounded by self-inflicted pain. He had a gorgeous cope of +crimson silk and gold-thread damask, figured with a repeating pattern of +golden pomegranates set in six-petalled formal blossoms, beyond which on +either side was the pineapple device wrought in seed-pearls. The +orphreys were divided into panels representing scenes from the life of +the Virgin, and the coronation of the Virgin was figured in coloured +silks upon the hood. This was Italian work of the fifteenth century. +Another cope was of green velvet, embroidered with heart-shaped groups +of acanthus-leaves, from which spread long-stemmed white blossoms, the +details of which were picked out with silver thread and coloured +crystals. The morse bore a seraph's head in gold-thread raised work. The +orphreys were woven in a diaper of red and gold silk, and were starred +with medallions of many saints and martyrs, among whom was St Sebastian. +He had chasubles, also, of amber-coloured silk, and blue silk and gold +brocades, and yellow silk damask and cloth of gold, figured with +representation of the Passion and Crucifixion of Christ, and embroidered +with lions and peacocks and other emblems; dalmatics of white satin and +pink silk damask, decorated with tulips and dolphins and _fleurs de +lys_; altar frontals of crimson velvet and blue linen; and many +corporals, chalice-veils, and sudaria." + +It may also be noted here that a couple of chapters, those dealing with +Sybil's home and the death of her brother, were not written till the +story appeared in book form, and a certain extra number of words were +required to make the volume of the requisite bulk; so must writers +submit to the inexorable demands of publishers who measure work not by +its merit but by a footrule. + +The dialogue throughout the tale sparkles with brilliant epigrams, and +this is all the more notable when we remember that the story was written +in a hurry, when the author was hard pressed for money, is more or less +a piece of hack work, and that whole pages were written in at the behest +of the publisher, who, like a customer at the baker's demanding the +make-weight which the law allows him, was clamouring for more "copy." + +Nothing could be more felicitous than "young people imagine that money +is everything ... and when they grow older they know it"; and, "to be +good is to be in harmony with oneself." And characteristic of that +Epicurean pose that the author delighted in is the paradoxical dictum +that "a cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is +exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied." Likewise essentially +characteristic of the man and his extraordinary, topsy-turvy views of +life is, "There is a fatality about good resolutions--that they are +always made too late," or "Good resolutions are useless attempts to +interfere with scientific laws. They are simply cheques that men draw on +a bank where they have no account." + +Some of the epigrams are as biting as a _Saturday Review_ article, in +the old days, as for instance, this description of a certain frail +dame--"She is still _decolletee_, and when she is in a very smart gown +she looks like an _edition de luxe_ of a bad French novel." Could +anything be more pithy or more brilliantly sarcastic? It is of this same +lady that the remark is made, "When her third husband died, her hair +turned quite golden from grief." + +But one could go on for ever, and I have quoted enough to illustrate the +wittiness of the dialogue, and, as the author himself lays down, +"Enough is as good as a meal." And there, by the way, we have an +illustration of how cleverly Wilde could transform the commonest saws by +the alteration or the transposition of a word, even sometimes by the +inversion of a sentence into what, at the first flush, appeared to be +highly original and brilliant sayings. By the substitution of the word +"meal" for "feast" we fail to recognise the old homely saying, and are +ready, until we consider it more closely, to receive it as a new and +witty idea neatly embodied. It is a _truc de metier_, but one that +requires a clever workman to use properly, as anyone can make sure of by +glancing through the bungling work of the majority of his imitators. + +In "Dorian Gray," Wilde gives free play to his ever-present longing to +utter the _dernier cri_, to avoid all that was _vieux jeu_, and to fill +with horror and amazement the souls of the stodgy _bourgeoisie_. That he +succeeded in doing so merely proves that the _bourgeoisie_ are stodgy, +not that the author has erred from the canons of art and good taste. + +His short stories are all written in a lighter vein--we peruse them as +we eat a plover's egg, and with the same relish and appreciation. They +are things of gossamer, but gossamer will oft survive more solid +material, and has the supreme quality of delicacy. + +"Lord Arthur Savile's Crime" deals with that nobleman's anxiety to +commit the murder a cheiromantist has predicted he will perpetrate, and +to get the matter over before he marries the girl to whom he is engaged. +His two successive failures and his final drowning of the hand-reading +fortune-teller is conceived in the best spirit of comedy, and provokes a +gentle continuous ripple of amusement as we read it. The same may be +said of "The Sphinx without a Secret," and "The Canterville Ghost," +whereas the "Model Millionaire" is simply a pretty story wittily told. +The whole plot is summed up in its concluding lines "Millionaire models +are rare enough ... but model millionaires are rarer still." + +But, incomparably, Wilde's best work in fiction is the "Portrait of Mr +W. H." as the _Blackwood_ article is headed. After reading it our regret +becomes all the more poignant that the complete MS. of the book should +have so unaccountably disappeared. Correctly speaking, the story is +hardly a work of fiction, or, at anyrate, the fiction is so slight as to +be hardly deserving of criticism, and is a mere medium for the +exposition of a theory. The teller of the story is in a friend's rooms, +and the talk drifts on to literary forgeries. The friend (Erskine) shows +him a portrait-panel of a young man in late sixteenth-century costume, +and proceeds to tell him his story. A young friend of his had +discovered what he considered a clue to the identity of the Mr W. H. of +Shakespeare's Sonnets, the only hitch being the difficulty of proving +that the young actor to whom he asserted his poems were written, ever +existed. He shortly afterwards produced a panel-portrait of the young +man which he had, as he alleged, discovered clamped to the inside of an +old chest picked up by him at a Warwickshire farmhouse. This final proof +quite convinced Erskine of the genuineness of the discovery, and it was +not till an accidental visit to a friend's studio that the fact of the +panel being a forgery was revealed to him. He taxes the discoverer of +the clue with it and the latter commits suicide. The writer of the story +is so impressed with the various proofs that Erskine has laid before him +that, in spite of that latter's utter scepticism as to the existence of +any such person as the dead man evolved from the Sonnets themselves, he +completes the researches on his own account. But the moment he has sent +off a detailed account of the result of his investigations to Erskine, +he himself is filled with an utter disbelief in the accuracy of the +conclusions derived from them. Erskine, on the other hand, is once more +converted by his letter to his dead friend's theory. + +Two years later the writer receives a letter from Erskine written from +Cannes stating that, like the discoverer of the clue, he has committed +suicide for the sake of a theory which he leaves to his friend as a +sacred legacy stained with the blood of two lives. The writer rushes off +to the Riviera only to find his friend dead, and to receive from his +mother the ill-starred panel. + +The story ends with a true Wilde touch, for in a conversation with the +doctor who had attended him, he learns that Erskine had died of +consumption and had never committed suicide at all. + +So much for the setting, which is quite unimportant. The real matter of +moment is, that the _Blackwood_ article is a really very valuable +contribution to the controversy as to the identity of the mysterious Mr +W. H. + +It will be remembered that the Sonnets were first issued in book form in +1609, by a sort of piratical bookseller of those days, called Thames +Thorpe who, on his own responsibility, prefixed the edition with a +dedication--"To the only-begotten of these insuing sonnets, Mr W. H., +all happinesse and that eternite promised by our ever living poet +wisheth the well wishing adventurer in setting forth. T. T." Round the +identity of this W. H. there has long raged an ardent controversy. Most +of the commentators have rushed to the conclusion that he must be the +person to whom the Sonnets are addressed. Some have attempted to +identify him as Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton (the initials +being reversed), who is known to have been an early patron of the poet, +others without much apparent reason have assumed that the W. H. in +question was none other than William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. The most +probable theory is undoubtedly that of Mr Henry Lee, that the dedication +is entirely Thorpe's own, that it has nothing whatever to do with +Shakespeare or the inspirer of the poet, and that it was meant for +William Hall, a sort of literary intermediary. In confirmation of this +he adduces the undoubted fact that Thorpe had, at anyrate, once +previously dedicated a work to its "begotten." + +One point is established almost beyond dispute--viz. that the first 126 +sonnets are addressed to a young man and the remainder refer to a "dark +woman" who, after having bewitched the author, casts her spell over his +young friend and estranges the two. + +A counter-theory is that Shakespeare's selection of the sonnet, "that +puling, petrifying, stupidly platonic composition," as Byron calls it, +as a medium for his muse, is that he was experimenting in the style of +writing which had become the fashion in England between the years 1591 +and 1597. + +Wilde's history is a totally new one, and deserves close examination. +Given that it could be proved that the young actor to whom he maintains +the Sonnets were addressed ever had a real existence, and the matter +would be as good as proved, but that is the weak point in his armour. +Mayhap some enthusiast may, by digging amongst old deeds and papers, +light upon some reference to him, but until then his hypothesis can be +only regarded as an ingenious, though highly interesting speculation. +Parenthetically it may be mentioned, although the fact is only known to +very few, that an artist friend of Oscar Wilde, whose work is the +admiration of all connoisseurs, had, under his direction, painted +exactly such a panel-portrait as described, employing all the arts of +the forger of antiquities in its production, and that a young poet whose +recently published volume of verse had caused considerable sensation in +literary circles had sat for the likeness. + +The points Wilde advances in confirmation of his theory are as +follows:-- + + 1. That the young man to whom Shakespeare addresses sonnets must + have been someone who was really a vital factor in the development + of his dramatic art, and that this could not be said of either Lord + Pembroke or Lord Southampton. + + 2. That the Sonnets, as we learn from Meres, were written before + 1598 and that his friendship with W. H. had already lasted three + years when Sonnet CIV. was written, which would fix the date of its + commencement as 1594, or at latest 1595, that Lord Pembroke was born + in 1580 and did not come to London till he was eighteen (_i.e._ + 1598) so that Shakespeare could not have met him till after the + sonnet had been written; and that Pembroke's father did not die till + 1601, whereas W. H.'s father was dead in 1598, as is proved by the + line-- + + "You had a father, let your son say so." + + 3. That Lord Southampton had early in life become the lover of + Elizabeth Vernon, so required no urging to enter the state of + matrimony, that he was not dowered with good looks, and that he did + not remember his mother as W. H. did. (Thou art thy mother's glass, + and she in thee calls back the lovely April of her prime), and + moreover that his Christian name being Henry he could not be the + Will to whom the punning sonnets (CXXXV. and CXLIII.) are addressed. + + 4. That W. H. is none other than the boy actor for whom Shakespeare + created the parts of Viola, Imogen, Juliet, Rosalind, Portia, + Desdemona and Cleopatra. + + 5. That the boy's name was Hughes. + +These points he proves from the Sonnets themselves. As regards No. 1 he +writes: "to look upon him as simply the object of certain love poems is +to miss the whole meaning of the poems; for the art of which Shakespeare +talks in the Sonnets is not the art of the Sonnets themselves, which +indeed were to him but slight and secret things, it is the art of the +dramatist to which he is always alluding. He proceeds to quote the +lines: + + "Thou art all my art and dost advance + As high as learning my rude ignorance." + +2 and 3 effectually dispose of the pretensions of Pembroke and Surrey. + +4. The theory of the very actor he praises by the fine sonnet:-- + + "'How can my Muse want subject to invent, + While thou dost breathe, thou pour'st into my verse + Thine own sweet argument, too excellent + For every vulgar paper to rehearse? + O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me + Worthy perusal stand against thy sight: + For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, + When thou thyself dost give invention light? + Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth + Than those old nine, which rhymers invocate; + And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth + Eternal numbers to outlive long date.'" + +The name of the boy he discovers in the eighth line of the 20th sonnet, +where W. H. is punningly described as-- + + "_A man in hew, all Hews in his contrawling_," + +and draws attention to the fact that "In the original edition of the +sonnets 'Hews' is printed with a capital H and in italics," and draws +corroboration from "these sonnets in which curious puns are made on the +words 'use' and 'usury.'" + +Another point he touches on is that Will Hughes abandoned Shakespeare's +company to enter the service of Chapman, or more probably of Marlowe. He +proves this from the lines-- + + "But when your countenance filled up his line + Then lack I matter; that enfeebled mine"-- + +as also + + "Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid + My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, + But now my gracious numbers are decayed, + And my sick nurse does give another place"; + +and further by + + "Every alien pen has got my use + And under thee their poesy disperse," + +and draws attention to the "obvious" play upon words (use = Hughes). + +Such in brief are the salient points of his argument, the limitations of +space precluding me from amplifying the subject, but I strongly advise +all those interested in the subject to read the whole article for +themselves. + +It is undoubtedly one of the cleverest things Wilde ever did, and as a +contribution to controversial English literature no student of letters +can afford to overlook it. Some day perhaps the manuscript of the book +will be discovered--in the library of a Transatlantic millionaire +maybe--and the author's more matured and expansive investigations be +given to the world. May that day come soon! + + + + +PART VII + +THE PHILOSOPHY OF BEAUTY + + + + +THE PHILOSOPHY OF BEAUTY + + +The greatest claim that Wilde made for himself was that he was a high +priest of aesthetics, that he had a new message concerning the relations +of beauty and the worship of beauty to life and art, to life and to +morals to give to the world. This claim was one in which to the last he +pathetically believed. He was absolutely certain in his own mind that +this was his vocation. He elaborated a sort of philosophy of beauty +which not only pleased and satisfied himself, but found very many +adherents, and became the dogma of a school. + +Even in this last work, "De Profundis," written in the middle of his +degradation and misery, he still believes that it is by art that he will +be able to regenerate his spirit. He said that he would do such work in +the future, would build beautiful things out of his sufferings, that he +might cry in triumph--"Yes! This is just where the artistic life leads a +man." + +We all know where the artistic life did lead Oscar Wilde upon his +release from prison. It led him to an obscure quarter of Paris where he +dragged out the short remainder of an unhappy life, having written +nothing save "The Ballad of Reading Gaol," and becoming more and more +lost to finer aspirations. + +Yet, nevertheless, this aesthetic philosophy of Wilde's forms one of the +most important parts of his writings, and of his attitude towards life. +It must, therefore, be carefully considered in any study of the man and +his work. + +First of all, let us inquire, what are aesthetics? Do not let anyone who +has not given his attention to the subject imagine that the +"aestheticism," which became known as the hallmark of a band of people +led by Oscar Wilde who committed many whimsical extravagances, and who +were caricatured in Mr Gilbert's "Patience," has any relation whatever +to the science of aesthetics. Even to Oscar Wilde aestheticism, as it has +been popularly called, was only the beginning of an aesthetic philosophy +which he summed up finally much later in "Intentions," the "Poems in +Prose," and "The Soul of Man under Socialism." + +By aesthetics is meant a theory of the beautiful as exhibited in works of +art. That is to say, aesthetics considered on its objective side has to +investigate, first, a function of art in general as expressing the +beautiful, and then the nature of the beauty thus expressed. + +Secondly, the special functions of the several arts are investigated by +aesthetics and the special aspects of the beautiful with which they are +severally concerned. It, therefore, follows that aesthetics has to +discuss such topics as the relation of art to nature and life, the +distinction of art from nature, the relation of natural to artistic +beauty, the conditions and nature of beauty in a work of art, and +especially the distinction of beauty from truth, from utility, and from +moral goodness. + +AEsthetics is, therefore, not art criticism. Art criticism deals with +this or that particular work or type of art, while the aesthetic theory +seeks to formulate the mere abstract and fundamental conceptions, +distinctions, and principles which underlie artistic criticism, and +alone make it possible. Art criticism is the link between aesthetic +science and the ordinary intelligent appreciation of a work of art by an +ordinary intelligence. Much more may be said in defining the functions +of aesthetics, but this is sufficient before we begin to examine Wilde's +own aesthetic theories. + +His ideas were promulgated in the three works mentioned above, and also +given to the world in lectures which he delivered at various times. + +It is true, as Mr Arthur Symons very clearly pointed out some years ago, +that Oscar Wilde wrote much that was true, new, and valuable about art +and the artist. But in everything that he wrote he wrote from the +outside. He said nothing which had not been said before him, or which +was not the mere wilful contrary of what had been said before him. +Indeed, it is not too much to say that Oscar Wilde never saw the full +face of beauty. He saw it always in profile, always in a limited way. +The pretence of strict logic in Wilde's writing on "Artistic Philosophy" +is only a pretence, and severe and steady thinkers recognise the +fallacy. + +Let us examine Oscar Wilde's aesthetic teaching. + +In one of his lectures given in America he said-- + + "And now I would point out to you the operation of the artistic + spirit in the choice of subject. Like the philosopher of the + platonic vision, the poet is the spectator of all time and all + existence. For him no form is obsolete, no subject out of date; + rather, whatever of life and passion the world has known in the + desert of Judea or in Arcadian valley, by the ruins of Troy or + Damascus, in the crowded and hideous streets of the modern city, or + by the pleasant ways of Camelot, all lies before him like an open + scroll, all is still instinct with beautiful life. He will take of + it what is salutary for his own spirit, choosing some facts and + rejecting others, with the calm artistic control of one who is in + possession of the secret of beauty. It is to no avail that the muse + of poetry be called even by such a clarion note as Whitman's to + migrate from Greece and Ionia and to placard 'removed' and 'to let' + on the rocks of the snowy Parnassus. For art, to quote a noble + passage of Mr Swinburne's, is very life itself and knows nothing of + death. And so it comes that he who seems to stand most remote from + his age is he who mirrors it best, because he has stripped life of + that mist of familiarity, which, as Shelley used to say, makes life + obscure to us. + + "Whatever spiritual message an artist brings to his age, it is for + us to do naught but accept his teaching. You have most of you seen + probably that great masterpiece of Rubens which hangs in the + gallery of Brussels, that swift and wonderful pageant of horse and + rider, arrested in its most exquisite and fiery moment, when the + winds are caught in crimson banner and the air is lit by the gleam + of armour and the flash of plume. Well, that is joy in art, though + that golden hillside be trodden by the wounded feet of Christ; and + it is for the death of the Son of Man that that gorgeous cavalcade + is passing. + + "In the primary aspect a painting has no more spiritual message + than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass. The channels by which + all noble and imaginative work in painting should touch the soul + are not those of the truths of lives. This should be done by a + certain inventive and creative handling entirely independent of + anything definitely poetical in the subject, something entirely + satisfying in itself, which is, as the Greeks would say, in itself + an end. So the joy of poetry comes never from the subject, but + from an inventive handling of rhythmical language." + +And further he said that "in nations as in individuals, if the passion +for creation be not accompanied by the critical, the aesthetic faculty +also, it will be sure to waste its strength. It is not an increased +moral sense or moral supervision that your literature needs. Indeed one +should never talk of a moral or immoral poem. Poems are either well +written or badly written; that is all. Any element of morals or implied +reference to a standard of good and evil in art is often a sign of a +certain incompleteness of vision. All good work aims at a purely +artistic effect." + +In "Intentions" he enunciated serious problems which seemed constantly +to contradict themselves, and he causes ourselves to ask questions which +only bewilder and astonish. To sum up all the aesthetic teaching of the +author it amounts simply and solely to the aphorism that there must be a +permanent divorce between art and morals. "All art," he says, "is +immoral." + +Some people have taken the view that Oscar Wilde in his philosophy of +beauty was never quite sincere. He did not write for philistines with +his heart in his mouth, but merely with his tongue in his cheek. I +remember Mr Richard Le Gallienne once said that in "Intentions" Wilde's +worship of beauty, which had made a latter-day myth of him before his +time, was overlaid by his gift of comic perception, and, rightly viewed, +all his flute-tone periods were written in the service of the comic +muse. When he was not of malice aforethought humorous in those parts of +the work where he seems to be arguing with a serious face enough, it is +implied that he did so simply that he might smile behind his mask at the +astonishment of a public he had from the first so delighted in +shocking--that he had a passion for being called "dangerous," just as +one type of man likes to be called "fast" and a "rake." + +This is, of course, one point of view, but it is not one with which I am +in agreement. Wilde laid such enormous stress upon the sensuous side of +art, and never realised that this is but an exterior aspect which is +impossible and could not exist without a spiritual interior, an +informing soul. + +With all his brilliancy the author of "Intentions" only saw a mere +fragment of his subject. It may be that he wilfully shut his eyes to the +truth. It is more likely that he was incapable of realising the truth as +a whole, and that what he wrote he wrote with absolute sincerity. + +It has been said that the artist sees farther than morality. This is a +dangerous doctrine for the artist himself to believe, but it has some +truth in it. In Oscar Wilde's case, in pursuing the ideal of beauty he +may have seen "farther than morality," but blind of one eye he missed +Morality upon the way and did not realise that she was ever there. + +It is the fashion nowadays among a certain set of writers, who form the +remainder of the band of "AEsthetes" who followed Wilde in his teachings, +to decry Ruskin, though, in the beginning of Wilde's "AEsthetic" +movement, Wilde was an ardent pupil of this great master of English +prose. We do not now accept Ruskin's artistic criticisms as adequate to +our modern needs. Much water has flowed under the bridge since the days +when Ruskin wrote, and his peculiar temperament, while appreciating much +that was beautiful and worthy to be appreciated, was at the same time +blind to much that is beautiful and worthy to be appreciated. Ruskin's +criticism on the painting of Whistler would not be substantiated by a +single writer of to-day. At the same time, all Ruskin's philosophy of +art--that is to say, aesthetics--is as true now as it ever was. Ruskin +showed, as the experience of life and art has shown and always will +show--show more poignantly and particularly in the case of Oscar Wilde +than in any other--that art and morality cannot be divorced, and that if +all art is immoral, then art ceases to exist. "I press to the +conclusion," he said, at the end of his famous lecture on the relation +of art to morals, "which I wish to leave with you, that all you can +rightly do, or honourably become, depends on the government of these two +instincts of order and kindness, by this great imaginative faculty, +which give you inheritance of the past, grasp of the present, authority +over the future. Map out the spaces of your possible lives by its help; +measure the range of their possible agency! On the walls and towers of +this your fair city, there is not an ornament of which the first origin +may not be traced back to the thoughts of men who died two thousand +years ago. Whom will _you_ be governing by your thoughts, two thousand +years hence? Think of it, and you will find that so far from art being +immoral, little else except art is moral; that life without industry is +guilt, and industry without art is brutality: and for the words 'good' +and 'wicked,' used of men, you may almost substitute the words 'makers' +and 'destroyers.' Far the greater part of the seeming prosperity of the +world is, so far as our present knowledge extends, vain: wholly useless +for any kind of good, but having assigned to it a certain inevitable +sequence of destruction and of sorrow. Its stress is only the stress of +wandering storm; its beauty the hectic of plague: and what is called the +history of mankind is too often the record of the whirlwind, and the map +of the spreading of the leprosy. But underneath all that, or in narrow +spaces of dominion in the midst of it, the work of every man, _qui non +accepit in vanitatem animan suam_, endures and prospers; a small remnant +or green bud of it prevailing at last over evil. And though faint with +sickness, and encumbered in ruin, the true workers redeem inch by inch +the wilderness into garden ground; by the help of their joined hands the +order of all things is surely sustained and vitally expanded, and +although with strange vacillation, in the eyes of the watcher, the +morning cometh, and also the night, there is no hour of human existence +that does not draw on towards the perfect day." + +For our own part let us examine a little into the relation between art +and morality for ourselves. + +When we hear it asserted that morality has nothing to do with art and +that moral considerations are quite beside the mark in aesthetic +criticism and judgment, such a statement is simply equivalent to saying +that actual life has nothing to do with art. The main demand that we can +make from art of all kinds is the demand of truth. Truth is beauty, and +beauty is truth. By truth in this connection we mean that higher and +more ideal truth which is inherent in the realities of things and +contained by them, but which is brought out, explained, made credible, +and visible by the artist in this or that sphere of art, and through the +process of his art purified from the accidental obscurities which cloud +it and hide it in the realm of actual life. If we are to demand truth +from the artist, and let us always remember, as Keats realised so +strongly, that in demanding truth we demand beauty also, we must insist +that the artist must give us nothing in which a false psychology +obtains, must, for example, paint no passions that do not occur in +actual life. It is, therefore, equally necessary, on a logical +conclusion, that when the subject of a work of art requires it, the +moral should be represented as it really is--that is, according to its +truth--and that the moral law should not be misrepresented. If we +require of the artist that he should give a vivid representation of the +illusions of human life, of the struggles and rivalries of men for +objects and ends of imaginary value, we must equally demand of the +artist that he should know and be capable of describing that which alone +has true and absolute value in human life. Surely it is a truism that +every drama from beginning to end contains a moral. It is a lie that art +is immoral or can by its very nature ever be so. To say so, to pretend +that art has a separate existence, is to say something which even the +most brilliant paradox cannot prove and which immediately suggests to +the mind of the thinking man an apologia or reason for licence of +personal conduct. As a great German writer on aesthetics and the relation +to the ethics has said, all human actions do of necessity presuppose a +norm, a rule to which they conform, or from which they depart; and there +is nothing which can be represented, whether as criminal or as +ridiculous, or as an object of irony, otherwise than under this +assumption. Hence every artist enforces some kind of morality, and +morality accordingly becomes of chief moment for aesthetic judgment. + +Aristotle himself, from whom Oscar Wilde frequently quotes, and +incidentally from whose poetics he attempts, by means of brilliant +paradox, to infer an attitude which is not really there, has pointed out +that art is a means of purification. If the morality of a work of art is +false and wrong, if the artist is either ignorant of the subject with +which he deals or deliberately misrepresents the morality of it, then +his work is viewed merely as a work of art--and therefore as a thing +whole and complete in itself--is a failure in art. In many respects it +may have aesthetic excellence, but as a complete thing, as a work of art, +it must inevitably fail. + +Sibbern in his "AEsthetik" tells us very sanely and wisely that art need +not be limited by choice of subject, but depends for its artistic +qualities upon the attitude of the artist in dealing with it. + +That art must not be limited by choice of subject is a great point of +Oscar Wilde's own philosophy, and here he is perfectly sound. But he +goes further in his paradoxical view, and shows that the artist must +hold no brief for either good or evil, and that the excellence of a work +of art depends entirely upon the skill of presentation. + +The German student, on the contrary, writes: + + "There are dramas in which the moral element is not brought into + special prominence, but just hovers above the surface, and which + yet have their poetic value. What must, however, be absolutely + insisted on is, that the artistic treatment should never insult + morality. We do not mean that art must not represent the immoral as + well as the moral, for this is, on the contrary, indispensable, if + art is truly to reflect life as it is. But immorality must not + infect and be inherent in that view of life and those opinions + which the poet desires by his work to promulgate; for then he would + injure morality, and violate that moral ideal to which all human + life, and therefore art itself, must be subordinated. Plays and + novels which depict virtue as that mere conventionality and + Philistinism which is but an object of ridicule, or which hold up + to our admiration false and antinomian ideals of virtue, + representing _e.g._, the sentimentality of a so-called good heart + as sufficient to justify the most scandalous moral delinquencies or + 'free genius' as privileged to sin, which paint vice in attractive + and seductive colours, portraying adultery and other + transgressions as very pardonable, and, under certain + circumstances, amiable weaknesses, and which by means of such + delineations bestow absolution on the public for sins daily + occurring in actual life--such plays and novels are unworthy of + art, and are as poison to the whole community. + + "Equally with all untruth must all impurity be excluded from art. + Purity and chastity are requirements resulting from the very nature + of art. But it is just because art is so closely connected with + sensuousness, that there is such obvious temptation to present the + sensuous in false independence, to call forth the mere + gratification of the senses. The sensuous must, however, be always + subordinated to the intellectual, for this is involved in the + demand for _ideality_, in other words, for that impress of + perfection given by the idea and the mind in every artistic + representation. And even if aesthetic ideality is present in a work + of art, it must be subordinated to ethic ideality, to the moral + purity in the artist's mind, a purity diffused throughout the + whole." + +Enough has been said and quoted to prove to all those who believe that +art, while it is the chief regenerative force in life, cannot possibly +be dissociated from morals, that Wilde's view of art in its relation to +morals is entirely unsound and dangerous to the half-educated and those +who do not know how the greatest brains of the world have regarded this +question. It is not necessary to continue or to pile proof upon proof, +easy though this would be. + +From the people who have a little culture, imagine they have much more, +and are dazzled by the splendour and beauty of Wilde's execution, it +will be idle to expect an assent. Those who believe in art for art's +sake as an infallible doctrine, may be divided into three classes. + +First of all there are the very young, whose experience of life has not +taught them the truth. They have not seen or known life as a whole, and, +therefore, no sound ethical view can possibly disabuse them of the +heresy. + +There are those again, older and more mature, who have not made +experience of life in its harsher and sadder aspects sufficient to wean +them from Wilde's theory, in which they are interested from a purely +academic point of view. And there is another class who are convinced +secretly in their own hearts that art for art's sake is an untenable +doctrine, but know that if they accepted it they would have to give up +much which they are unable to do without and which makes life pleasant +and dulls the conscience. + +It is more satisfactory to turn to the consideration of "Intentions," +and pay an enthusiastic and reverential meed of praise to this +perfection of art. Marred here and there perhaps by over-elaboration +and ornament, the book nevertheless remains a masterpiece. In its +highest expression, where paradox and point of view were not insisted +on, where pure lyric narrative fills the page, I know of nothing more +lovely. "Lovely" may be an exaggerated word, yet I think that it is +almost the only word which can be applied in this connection. Let me +give, as an example, a few lines from the marvellous and inspired pages +which treat of the Divine Comedy of Dante. Would that I could quote the +whole of the supreme and splendid passages! That is impossible. But +listen at least to these few lines. + +The poet is describing his spiritual experiences while reading the +mighty harmonies of the Florentine: + + "On and on we go climbing the marvellous stair, and the stars + become larger than their wont, and the song of the kings grows + faint, and at length we reach the seven trees of gold and the + garden of the Earthly Paradise. In a griffin-drawn chariot appears + one whose brows are bound with olive, who is veiled in white, and + mantled in green, and robed in a vesture that is coloured like live + fire. The ancient flame wakes within us. Our blood quickens through + terrible pulses. We recognise her. It is Beatrice, the woman we + have worshipped. The ice congealed about our heart melts. Wild + tears of anguish break from us, and we bow our forehead to the + ground, for we know that we have sinned. When we have done penance, + and are purified, and have drunk of the fountain of Lethe and + bathed in the fountain of Eunoe, the mistress of our soul raises us + to the Paradise of Heaven. Out of that eternal pearl, the moon, the + face of Piccarda Donati leans to us. Her beauty troubles us for a + moment, and when, like a thing that falls through water, she passes + away, we gaze after her with wistful eyes." + +Do not these words strike almost the highest, purest, and most beautiful +note that any writer of prose has struck throughout the centuries. In +English, at least, I know of nothing more rapt and ecstatic. It is above +criticism and the man who wrote it must for ever wear in our minds one +of the supreme laurels that artistic achievement can bestow. + +One more paragraph will show the author of "Intentions" in a different +mood, but yet one in which the supreme sense of beauty and of form +throbs out upon the page and fills our pulses with that divine and +awestruck excitement that great art can give. + + "... wake from his forgotten tomb the sweet Syrian, Meleager, and + bid the lover of Heliodore make you music, for he too has flowers + in his song, red pomegranate-blossoms, and irises that smell of + myrrh, ringed daffodils and dark blue hyacinths, and marjoram and + crinkled ox-eyes. Dear to him was the perfume of the beanfield at + evening, and dear to him the odorous eared-spikenard that grew on + the Syrian hills, and the fresh green thyme, the winecup's charm. + The feet of his love as she walked in the garden were like lilies + set upon lilies. Softer than sleep-laden poppy petals were her + lips, softer than violets and as scented. The flame-light crocus + sprang from the grass to look at her. For her the slim narcissus + stored the cool rain; and for her the anemones forgot the Sicilian + winds that wooed them. And neither crocus, nor anemone, nor + narcissus was as fair as she was." + +If the song of Meleager was sweet and if the suns of summer greet the +mountain grave of Helike, and the shepherds still repeat their legends +where breaks the blue Sicilian sea by which Theocritus tuned his lyre; +if the voice of Dante yet rings and sounds in the world-weary ears of +mortals of to-day; if "As You Like It" has still its appeal to our +modern ears as from a woodland full of flutes, then, indeed, this prose +of Oscar Wilde's, so beautiful and so august, will remain with us always +as an imperishable treasure of literature and as a lyric in our hearts. + +"Poems in Prose" that Oscar Wilde wrote were published first in _The +Fortnightly Review_, during July, 1894, when Mr Frank Harris was the +editor. We must remember the date because it was only a few months +before the absolute downfall of the author. + +In criticising this work of Wilde's, we cannot help the reflection that +it was written at a time when enormous, sudden, and overwhelming success +had thrown him entirely from his mental balance, and had filled him with +an even greater egoism than he ordinarily had, at the time these fables, +or allegories, let us call them, were produced, Oscar Wilde was at the +very height of his success, and of his almost insane irresponsibility +also. + +That they are beautiful it would be idle to deny. Still we have the sure +and dexterous pen employed upon them. There is no faltering in phrase, +no hesitation of artistry. It is said by many people who heard the poet +recite these stories upon social occasions, tell them to please, amuse, +or bewilder one of those gatherings in which he was the centre in a +constellation, that, spoken, they were far more beautiful than when at +length he wrote them down and published them in the review. I can well +believe it. On the two occasions when I myself heard Oscar Wilde +talking, I realised how unprecedented his talent for conversation was, +and wished that I also could hear him at times when he attempted his +highest flights. Yet, even as pieces of prose, the title the author +chose for them is perfectly justified. They are indeed "poems" in prose +and triumphant examples of technical accomplishment and mastery. + +Yet, the condemnation of their teaching can hardly be too severe. With +every wish in the world to realise that a paradox is only a truth +standing on its head to attract attention, with every desire to give the +author his due, no honest man, no Christian, no Catholic, no Protestant, +but must turn from these few paragraphs of allegory with sorrow and a +sense of something very like shame. + +And it is for this reason. + +The poet has dared an attempt of invasion into places where neither he +nor any artist has right. With an insane pride he dares to patronise, to +limit and to explain the Almighty. + +Nowhere in this Appreciation have I made a whole-hearted condemnation of +anything Wilde has written. Even at times when I most disagreed with his +attitude I have attempted, I hope with humility and sincerity, to +present the other side of the shield. Here I do not see there is +anything to be said in favour of at least two or three of the prose +poems--those two or three which give colour to the whole. + +There is one of them called "The Doer of Good." It begins in this wise: + + "It was night time and He was alone, + And He saw afar off the walls of a round city and went towards the + city." + +Our Lord is meant. + +The allegory goes on to say that when Christ came near to the city He +heard music and the sounds of happiness and joy. He knocked at the +gate and "certain of the gatekeepers opened to Him." + +Our Lord passes through the beautiful halls of a palace and sees upon a +"couch of sea purple" a man bearing all the signs of an ancient Greek +stupefied by pleasure and by wine. The Protagonist asks the man He +sees--"Why do you live like this?" + +Then Wilde's prose goes on to tell how the young man turns and +recognises his interlocutor and answers that he was a leper once, that +Christ had healed him. How else should he live? + +Our Lord leaves the palace and walks through the city, and he sees +another young man pursuing a harlot, while his eyes are bright with +lust. He speaks to the young man and asks him the reason of his way of +life, and the young man turns and tells the Saviour of Mankind that he +was once blind and that He had given him sight, and, therefore, at what +else could he look? + +The allegory goes on, but it is not necessary to continue an account of +it. All it is necessary and right to say is, that the allegory is +blasphemous and horrible--horrible with the insane pride of one who has +not realised his imminent fall, who has realised the horror of his +mental attitude no less than the life he was proved to have been +leading at the time. + +I have purposely refrained from quotation here. But let it again be said +that the artistic presentment of these parables is without flaw. + +I do not think it would be a kindness to the memory of Oscar Wilde, nor +be doing a service to anyone at all, to continue this ethical criticism +of the "Poems in Prose." Let me say only that Wilde, in another story, +takes a sinner to the Judgment Seat and introduces God the Father into a +dialogue in which the sinner silences the Almighty by his repartee. All +these "Poems in Prose" are written beautifully, as I have said, but also +with an extraordinarily adroit use of actual phrases from the New +Testament. I will permit myself one quotation before I conclude, which +is surely saddening in its significance in the view of after events. + +And God said to the Man: "Thy life hath been Evil, and the Beauty I have +shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden thou did'st pass +by." + +It remains to say something about Wilde's final essay, entitled "The +Soul of Man," which also appeared in _The Fortnightly Review_. Upon its +appearance it was called "The Soul of Man under Socialism," but it has +since been republished under the title of "The Soul of Man." + +This essay, brilliant in conception, brilliant in execution, has none of +the old lyric beauty of phrase. It can in no sense be considered a +masterpiece of prose, but only a piece of fine and cultured writing. In +it paradox obscures the underlying truth. The very first words strike +the old weary note. "The chief advantage that would result from the +establishment of Socialism is, undoubtedly, the fact that Socialism +would relieve us from that sordid necessity of living for others, which, +in the present condition of things, presses so hardly upon himself and +everybody." + +As far as the prose artist is concerned, the essay has little to +recommend it. He was tired, tired out, and had no longer the wish or the +stimulus to produce the marvellous and glowing prose to which we have +been accustomed in these other statements of the writer's attitude +towards art, towards morals and towards beauty. Yet, at the same time, +the man's love of individualism drove him to write this essay, and at +certain points it comes strangely into impact with Catholic truth. + +The more Catholic the conception of religion and of art becomes, the +more surely the socialistic idea obtains. Certainly our Lord taught that +individual character can only be developed through community. The great +socialistic organ of England attempted the value and weight of Oscar +Wilde's defence of Socialism in the following words:-- + + "Christ taught that individual character could only be developed + through community. Some say he opposed Socialism because, when two + young capitalists came to him wrangling about their private + property, he ignored them, saying, 'Who made me a divider among + you?' I suppose these objectors still think that Socialism means + dividing up. When his enemies were closing in upon him, and his + life hung in the balance, a woman came and anointed his feet, and + wiped them with her hair, and the good people were shocked, and + complained of the waste. Might not the ointment have been sold, and + the money doled out to the poor? Christ defended her generous + impulse, and remarked: 'The poor you have always with you. You have + plenty of opportunities of helping them. Me you have not always.' + This is erected into a great pronouncement that we must not attempt + to abolish poverty! To such amusing shifts are Christian + Individualists driven! + + "But our contention is that although Christ was not a State + Socialist, his spirit, embodied in the Christian Church, inevitably + urges men to Socialism; that the political development of the + Catholic Faith is along the lines of Socialism; and that, as the + State captured the Church in the past, so now it is the business of + the Church to recapture the State, and through it to establish + God's Kingdom on earth." + +I quote them here in order to show what sympathy the essay awakened, +even though that sympathy is utterly alien to the belief of the +chronicler. And now let us finally bid farewell to Oscar Wilde as +AEsthete, or, rather, as prophet and expounder of the aesthetic. + +I have placed on record not only my own small opinion of his teachings, +but a very solid and weighty consensus of condemnation of his attitude. + +And I hope, from the purely literary point of view, I have made +obeisance and given every credit to one of the greatest literary artists +of our time. + + + + +PART VIII + +"DE PROFUNDIS" + + + + +"DE PROFUNDIS" + + + "I Have entered on a performance which is without example, whose + accomplishments will have no imitator. I mean to present my + fellow-mortals with a man in all the integrity of nature; and this + man shall be myself. + + "I know my heart, and have studied mankind; I am not made like + anyone I have been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in + existence; if not better, I at least claim originality, and whether + Nature did wisely in breaking the mould with which she formed me, + can only be determined after having read this work. + + "Whenever the last trumpet shall sound, I will present myself + before the sovereign Judge with this book in my hand, and loudly + proclaim, Thus have I acted; these were my thoughts; such was I. + With equal freedom and veracity have I related what was laudable or + wicked, I have concealed no crimes, added no virtues; and if I have + sometimes introduced superfluous ornament, it was merely to occupy + a void occasioned by defect of memory. I may have supposed that + certain, which I only knew to be probable, but have never asserted + as truth a conscious falsehood. Such as I was, I have declared + myself; sometimes vile and despicable, at others, virtuous, + generous, and sublime. Even as thou hast read my inmost soul, Power + eternal! assemble round thy throne an innumerable throng of my + fellow-mortals, let them listen to my confessions, let them blush + at my depravity, let them tremble at my sufferings; let each in his + turn expose with equal sincerity the failings, the wanderings of + his heart, and, if he dare, aver, _I was better than that man_." + +These are the first words in that book which it was supposed would +always stand as a type of real self-revelation and confession and which +now is thought of by all the world as merely a brilliant piece of +literature and an amazing tissue of misrepresentations. + +Jean Jacques Rousseau never gave his real self to the world despite the +loud Gallic boast of the paragraphs above. + +Did De Quincey? Did St Augustine? Did anyone ever tell the truth about +himself from the very beginnings of literature? Newman's "Apologia"; +Bunyan's "Grace Abounding"; the Journals of Wesley; the Memoirs of +Madame de Stael de Launay; the diary of Madame D'Arblay; the "Ausmeinem +Leben" of Goethe, the "Lavengro" of Borrow--how much in all these and in +the hundred other works of like nature which crowd to the mind, how much +is self-deception, how much picturesque fiction? + +Who can say? + +There is only one way of determining the value of an autobiographical +statement--by a comparison of internal evidence with external historic +fact. In the case of people whose generation has passed away this task +is beset with difficulties, though not impossible. In the case of one +who has but recently died, whose friends and contemporaries are living +still, about whom documentary and oral evidence abounds, the task is +more easy, though still a hard and, possibly, a thankless one. + +In a consideration and criticism, however, of Oscar Wilde's greatest +work, "De Profundis," such an attempt must undoubtedly be made. + +Yet, this question of sincerity or reality is not the only one to be +determined, and it will be well, therefore, to treat of "De Profundis" +with the assistance of a definite plan of criticism. + +Let us then divide this part of the book into several sections. + +There are, undoubtedly, a great many people who have heard the name of +the book and read the extraordinarily copious reviews of it in the +public press, but have no further acquaintance with it than just that. +It will be necessary, therefore, in the first instance, to give an +account of the actual subject-matter in order to make the following +criticism intelligible and, it is to be hoped, to induce them to +purchase and read this marvellous monograph, which is one of the +world's minor masterpieces, for themselves. + +Secondly, a purely literary criticism will not be out of place, a +criticism which treats of the book as a consummate work of art and a +piece of prose almost unparalleled for its splendour and beauty in +modern literature. + +Thirdly, the vexed question of its conscious or unconscious sincerity +must be dealt with, while the fourth consideration should surely be +devoted to the philosophy and teaching, especially in its regard to the +Christian Faith, which is definitely promulgated within the book. + +Lastly, a few words about its actual legacy to the Europe of to-day +should conclude this part of the Appreciation. + + * * * * * + +"De Profundis" was published by Messrs Methuen & Company on 23rd +February 1905. It was written by Oscar Wilde when in prison, by special +permission of the Home Secretary. A fuller account of these details will +be found in Part I. of this book. + +Directly "De Profundis" made its appearance the whole press of England, +almost without exception, devoted a large space to its consideration. +The sensation the book occasioned was extraordinary and almost without +parallel in modern times. An enormous controversy arose about it +immediately. Every possible aspect of the book was canvassed and +discussed, and, strange as it may seem, a vast amount of venom and +bitterness was mingled with the bulk of eulogy. The student of +contemporary literature, or perhaps, in view of what I am going to say, +it would be better to call it contemporary book publishing, can find no +parallel to the interest and excitement this book occasioned, save only +in the case of a very different production called "When it was Dark," an +over-rated sensational novel by a Mr "Guy Thorne," whose views excited +the various religious parties in the Church of England to a sort of +frenzy for and against them. + +In pure literature I know of nothing which, upon its appearance, made +such an immediate stir as "De Profundis." + +With the various views of various sections of the community, I propose +to deal later. With the doubts that were thrown on its authenticity as a +genuine prison manuscript I have already dealt. I may here, however, +quote a few words of a statement made by the editor of "De Profundis," +Mr Robert Ross, to a representative of an evening paper. They will +explain for the reader all that he will further find necessary to +introduce him to the circumstances under which "De Profundis" appeared. + +"My object," he said, "in publishing this book, as I have indicated in +the preface and in my letter to _The St James's Gazette_, was that Mr +Oscar Wilde might come to be regarded as a factor in English literature +along with his distinguished contemporaries. The success of 'De +Profundis' and the reviews lead me to believe that my object has been +achieved. + +"I cannot expect the world to share my admiration of Mr Oscar Wilde as a +man of letters, at present, although that admiration is already shared +by many distinguished men of letters in England, by the whole of +Germany, and by a considerable portion of the literary class in France. + +"With regard to the authenticity of the manuscript, I may say that it +was well known that during his incarceration at Reading Gaol he was +granted the privileges of pen and paper, only permitted in exceptional +cases, at the instance of influential people not his personal friends. +The manuscript of 'De Profundis,' about which he wrote to me very often +during the last months of his imprisonment, was handed to me on the day +of his release. The letters he had written to me in reference to it are +published in the German edition of the work, and later on, perhaps, they +may appear in England, if I think it desirable to publish them here. + +"Contrary to general belief the manuscript contains nothing of a +scandalous nature, and if there was another object in publishing the +work it was to remove that false impression which had gained ground. +The portions which I have omitted in the English publication, apart from +the letters to which I have already referred as appearing in the German +edition, are all of a private character. There are one or two +unimportant passages which the English publisher--very wisely, I +think--deemed unsuitable for immediate reproduction in England. + +"In Germany Mr Oscar Wilde's place in English literature had already +been accepted. 'Salome,' for instance, is now part of the repertoire, +and Strauss, the great musician, is engaged on an opera based on Mr +Wilde's work, which he selected out of many others because of its +popularity in Germany, and also, no doubt, on account of the dramatic +intensity of Mr Wilde's interpretation of the Biblical story. + +"It is not for me to criticise or to appreciate 'De Profundis' on which +many competent writers have given their opinions, but I should have +imagined that it was sufficiently clear that Mr Oscar Wilde had not +attempted to throw any blame for his misfortune on anyone but himself. + +"The manuscript is written on blue prison foolscap. There are a few +corrections. Although Mr Wilde gave me very full instructions with +regard to those portions which he wished published he allowed me +absolute discretion in the matter, which he did about all his other +manuscript and letters." + + +THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF "DE PROFUNDIS" + +I have said that for those who have not read the book, a short synopsis +of its contents is necessary here. But I am immediately confronted with +a difficulty because, probably, no book is more difficult to sum up, to +make a _precis_ from, than this. However, I do all that is possible, and +only ask my readers to remember that this bald catalogue will be +elucidated further on in the article. In the preface to the book a +letter of Oscar Wilde to the editor is quoted in which he says: + + "I don't defend my conduct. I explain it. Also there is in my + letter certain passages which deal with my mental development in + prison, and the inevitable evolution of my character and + intellectual attitude towards life that has taken place; and I want + you and others who still stand by me and have affection for me to + know exactly in what mood and manner I hope to face the world. Of + course, from one point of view, I know that on the day of my + release I shall be merely passing from one prison into another.... + Prison life makes one see people and things as they really are. + That is why it turns one to stone.... I have 'cleansed my bosom of + much perilous stuff.' I need not remind you that mere expression is + to an artist the supreme and only mode of life.... For nearly two + years I have had within a growing burden of bitterness, of much of + which I have now got rid." + +This, in some sort of way, will give the reader an idea of what the book +consists or, at anyrate, of its other view about it. + +He begins the work by a statement of the terrible suffering he is +undergoing in prison. The iron discipline, the paralysing immobility of +a life which is as monotonous and regular as the movement of a great +machine, are set forth subjectively by a presentment of the effects they +are having upon the prisoner's brain. "It is always twilight in one's +cell, as it is always twilight in one's heart." + +... He is transferred to a new prison. Three months elapse, and he is +told of his mother's death. He speaks of his deep love and veneration +for her and says that he who was once a "lord of language" has now no +words left in which to tell of the appalling shame which has seized upon +his heart and mind. He realises the infamy with which he has covered +that honoured name. + +An anecdote comes into these sorrowful pages. It is an anecdote of his +sad and guarded appearance among the world of men when he was brought +to appear before the Court of Bankruptcy. As he walked manacled in the +corridor towards the Court Room, a friend of his, who was waiting, +lifted his hat and bowed. Waited, "that, before the whole crowd, whom +such an action so sweet and simple hushed into silence, he might raise +his hat to me, as, handcuffed and with bowed head, I passed him by." + +A page or two is occupied with the poor convict's gratitude for this +simple, sweet and dignified action. A marvellous eulogy is pronounced +upon it. + +What prison means to a man in the upper ranks of life is set forth in +words of anguish, and then, following these paragraphs, is a frank +admission that Wilde had ruined himself. "I am quite ready to say so. I +am trying to say so, though they may not think it at the present moment. +This pitiless indictment I bring without pity against myself." + +He describes the great and brilliant position he had held in the world. +He tells of all the splendid things with which fortune had endowed him. +He admits that he allowed pleasure to dominate him and that his end came +with irremediable disgrace. + +He has lain in prison for nearly two years, and now he begins to +describe his mental development during the long torture. Humility, he +says, is what he has found, like a treasure in a field. From this newly +discovered treasure he builds up a method of conduct which he will +pursue when he is released from durance. He knows, indeed, that kind +friends will await him on the other side of the prison door. He will not +have to beg his bread, but, nevertheless, humility shall bloom like a +flower in his heart. + +He begins to speak of religion, and avows his atheism. "The faith that +others give to what is unseen, I give to what one can touch, and look +at." There is no help for him in religion. + +He goes on to speak of reason. There is no help for him in reason. +Reason tells him that the laws under which he was convicted were wrong +and unjust laws, the system under which he suffered a wrong and unjust +system. + +Yet, in pursuance of his determination of Humility, he resolves to make +all that has happened to him into a spiritualising medium. He is going +to weave his pain and agony into the warp and woof of his life with the +same readiness with which he wove the time of pleasure and success into +the completion of his temperament. + +Then there comes a long discussion of his own position at the moment, a +common prisoner in a common gaol, and of what his position will be +afterwards. He tells of occasions on which he was allowed to see his +friends in prison, and afterwards describes a moment of his deepest +degradation, when he was jeered at in convict dress as he stood, one of +a chained gang, on Clapham Junction platform. The story is utterly +terrible. On the occasion of his removal from London to Reading, he +says, "I had to stand on the centre platform of Clapham Junction in +convict dress and handcuffed, for all the world to look at.... When +people saw me they laughed. Each train as it came up swelled the +audience. Nothing could exceed their amusement. That was, of course, +before they knew who I was. As soon as they had been informed they +laughed still more. For half-an-hour I stood there, in the grey November +rain, surrounded by a jeering mob." + +We find now, in our short survey of the book, the widely discussed +passages about the personality and message of Christ. These form the +greater part of this strange and moving masterpiece. They will be +treated of hereafter. + +Finally, come anticipations of release and plans for the future, and "De +Profundis" concludes with an especially poignant and almost painfully +beautiful passage which anticipates the kindliness of Nature to heal a +bruised soul to which man has given no solace: + +"But Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have +clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose +silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so +that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the +wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt; she will +cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole." + + +"DE PROFUNDIS" AS A PIECE OF PROSE + +There is very little of the wise and sensuous geniality of Horace in +Oscar Wilde's outlook upon life. But some lines of the poet, never a +great favourite with Wilde by the way, certainly have a direct +application upon the style of the author of "De Profundis"-- + + "Saepe stilum vertas, iterum quae digna legi sint + Scripturus; neque te ut miretur turba labores, + Contentus paucis lectoribus."--S. I. 10, 72. + +A piece of prose to Oscar Wilde was always, in a sense, like a definite +musical composition in which words took the place of notes, and he +carried out the poet's injunction to polish and rewrite with meticulous +care. + +Wilde had, in a marvellously developed degree, the sense that a piece of +prose was a built-up thing proceeding piece by piece, movement by +movement, sentence by sentence, and word by word towards a definite and +well-understood effect. "It was the architectural conception of work +which foresees the end in the beginning and never loses sight of it, and +in every part is conscious of all the rest, till the last sentence does +but, with undiminished vigour, unfold and justify the first." + +These lines were written by Oscar Wilde's master in English prose, +Walter Pater, and we shall see how entirely Wilde has adhered to such an +artistic attitude. Like the Greeks, he believed in an elaborate +criticism of language, and the metrical movements of prose were +scientifically and artistically interesting to him, as any student of +harmony takes pleasure in a contrapuntal exercise. The analogy is +perfectly correct, and Wilde himself has drawn attention to it more than +once in his prose writings. Counterpoint consisted, in the old days of +music, when a system of sounds called points were used for notation, in +two or more lines of these points; each line represented a melody which, +when set against each other and sounded simultaneously, produced correct +harmony. + +Wilde's prose was moulded entirely upon an appreciation of these facts, +and the ear must always be the critic of the excellence of his prose +rather than the intelligence, in the first instance, as reached by the +eye. If we read aloud passages of "De Profundis" the full splendour of +them strikes us far more poignantly than in any other way. It is true +that Wilde's prose makes an appeal _ad clerum_, and it is not necessary +for the connoisseur, the initiate, to apply the test of the spoken +word. But those who are not actually conversant with the more technical +niceties of style will do well to read Wilde's prose aloud. They will +discover in it new and unsuspected beauties. + +Wilde, at one period of his career, published a series of short +paragraph stories which he called "Poems in Prose." With him there were +many points of contact between prose and poetry. The two things could +overlap and intermingle, though in his hands neither lost its own +individuality in the process. There has been too much said in the past +about the old principle of sharp division between poetry and prose. This +was a classical tradition and was one which well applied to the Greek +and Latin languages. It was maintained, until a late era in our own +English literature, by the Gibbons and Macaulays who moulded themselves +upon Cicero and Livy. But during the last century the force of the old +tradition weakened very much. A newer and more flexible style of writing +became permissible. Coleridge, De Quincey, Swift, Lamb, to mention a few +names at random, showed that, at anyrate, prose need no longer be +written as a stately cataract of ordered words with due balance and +antithesis, and with certain rigid movements which were thought +indispensable to correct writing. + +Dr Boswell said, apropos of style--"Some think Swift's the best; others +prefer a fuller and grander way of writing." To whom Dr Johnson +replied--"Sir, you must first define what you mean by style, before you +can judge who has good taste in style and who has bad. The two classes +of persons whom you have mentioned don't differ as to good and bad. They +both agree that Swift has a good neat style, but one loves a neat style, +another a style of more splendour. In the like manner one loves a plain +coat, another loves a laced coat; but neither will deny that each is +good in its kind." + +Although Johnson and his contemporaries certainly had a great sense of +rhythm and harmony in prose they were the last defenders of the old +axiom that poetry and prose were two entirely separate things. It was +Walter Pater who, in our own times, finally demolished the old +tradition, and opened the way for a writer, such as Oscar Wilde, to +bring the new discovery to its fullest perfection. Walter Pater showed +that it was not true that poetry differs only from prose by the presence +of metrical restraint. + +Wilde, understanding this, most thoroughly, resolved early in his +literary career that his prose should be beautifully coloured, jewelled, +ornate, and yet capable of every delicate nuance, every almost lyric +echo that could be caught from the realms of poesy and welded into the +many-coloured fabric. + +In Wilde's "Intentions" we have an example of his most ornamented and +decorated prose, so marvellously musical that it reminds us of a fugue +played on a mighty organ with innumerable stops. Yet, at the same time, +in this book of Essays, Oscar Wilde frequently laid himself open to the +charge of precocity and over-elaboration. It is possible to obscure the +grand and massive lines of a building by an over-elaboration of detail. +Beautiful as decorated Gothic is, I have in mind the Cathedral of +Cologne, there is a more massive grandeur in the early mediaeval work +than anything the later style can give. + +"De Profundis" is purged of all the faults--one might almost say the +faults of excellence--that the hypercritical student may sometimes find +in the earlier prose of its author. Just as the man himself was purged +and purified in mind by the terrible experiences of prison, so his style +also became stronger and more beautiful, and what was once reminiscent +of a marvellous nocturne or ballade of Chopin, or "some mad scarlet +thing by Dvorak" inherent with all the beauty of just this, now acquires +the harmony and strength of a great wind blowing through a forest. + +The prose is still full of the old symbolism and imagery, but these two +means of producing an effect are used with much more restraint of +language and simplicity of words. Note, for example, how the following +paragraph, especially when read aloud, proceeds from symbol to symbol +with a marvellously adroit use of the dactyl and the spondae, or rather +their equivalents in English prosody, until the final thought is +enunciated, the voice drops, the sentence is complete. "When one has +weighed the sun in the balance and measured the steps of the moon, and +mapped out the seven Heavens, star by star, there still remains +oneself." + +Here we notice in addition, the extraordinary influence that the words +of the Bible always had upon the prose of Oscar Wilde. In his lonely +prison cell, where nearly the whole of his reading must have consisted +of Holy Scripture, the influence was naturally greater than ever before. +No one can read "De Profundis" with its rhythmic repetitions of phrase +without realising this in an extraordinary degree. Take the passage I +have just quoted and the following paragraph, which, let me assure my +readers, I have taken quite at random, opening a Bible and turning over +but a very few leaves of the Old Testament without any regular +search,--"So that they shall take no wood out of the field, neither cut +down out of the forest; for they shall burn the weapons with fire: and +they shall spoil those that spoiled them, and rob those that robbed +them, saith the Lord God." + +Yes! there can be no possible doubt that much of the inspiration of "De +Profundis"--that is, the purely literary inspiration--came from the +solemn harmonies and balanced phrases of the old Hebrew singers and +poets. + +With Job, Oscar Wilde might well have said, and his own lamentations are +strangely reminiscent of the phrase, "My harp is turned to mourning and +my organ into the voice of them that weep." + +In "De Profundis" the special passages of rare and melodious beauty +which star the printed page at no long intervals, have been very widely +commented upon and quoted. By this time they are quite familiar to all +who take an interest in modern literature, and this masterpiece of it in +particular. Yet, in considering the prose of "De Profundis" we must not +forget to pay a due meed of praise to the great substance of the book in +which an extraordinary ease and dignity of style, an absolute simplicity +of effect, which conceals the most elaborate art and the most profound +knowledge of the science of words, links together those more memorable, +because more striking, passages which leap out from the page and plant +themselves in the mind of the appreciative reader like arrows. + + "There is hardly a word in 'De Profundis' misplaced, misused, or + used at all unless the fullest possible value is got from its + presence in the sentence. Even now and then, when, in the midst of + the grave rhetoric of his psychology, the author descends into + colloquialism, the ear is not offended in the least. He knows the + precise moment when the little homely word will bring back to the + reader the fact that he is reading a human document written by a + human sufferer in a prison cell. + + "If, after I am free, a friend of mine gave a feast, and did not + invite me to it, I should not mind a bit, I can be perfectly happy + by myself." + +Here in the midst of passages of calculated and cadenced beauty we have +a little carefully devised sentence to which, though the ordinary reader +will not realise the art and cunning of its employment, it will have +precisely the effect upon the brain of the ordinary reader that Oscar +Wilde designed when he wrote it. + +The literary man himself, accustomed to deal with words, can, and will, +appreciate the art of the artist in this regard. + +It is with the profoundest appreciation and admiration for the +marvellous skill of presentation, the perfect power and flexibility of +the prose that I leave the consideration of the purely artistic merits +of the book and turn to its real value as a human document. + +As Oscar Wilde said of himself, he was indeed a "lord of language." + + +"DE PROFUNDIS" AS A REVELATION OF SELF + +We now come to a consideration of "De Profundis" as a revelation, or +not, of the real sentiments and thoughts of the man who wrote it. + +To the British temperament it is always far more important, in the +judgment of a book, that the writer should be sincere in the writing +than that what he wrote should be perfectly artistic. + +The British public, indeed, the whole Anglo-Saxon world, has never been +able to adapt itself to the French attitude that, provided a thing is a +flawless work of art, the sincerity of the writer has nothing whatever +to do with its worth. This attitude Wilde himself consistently preached +in season and out of season. For example, he wrote a study of +Wainwright, the poisoner, which, read from the ordinary English ethical +point of view, would seem to show him a most sympathetic advocate of +crime, provided only the criminal committed his crimes in an artistic +manner and had also a sense of art in life. + +When a friend reproached the monster Wainwright with the murder of an +innocent girl, Helen Abercrombie, to whom he owed every duty of kindness +and protection, he shrugged his shoulders and said--"Yes, it was a +dreadful thing to do, but she had very thick ankles." If we are to take +Oscar Wilde's essay, "Pen, Pencil and Poison," quite seriously we must +believe him to be utterly indifferent to the monstrous moral character +of the hero of his memoir. He speaks of him as being not merely a poet +and a painter, an art critic and antiquarian, a writer of prose and a +dilettante of things delightful, but also a forger of no mean nor +ordinary capacities, and as a subtle and secret poisoner almost without +rival in this or any age. + +When "De Profundis" first made its appearance and the flood of criticism +began, dozens of critics pounced upon the book, admitted its marvellous +literary charm and achievement, and said that its author was absolutely +and utterly insincere in all he wrote about himself. _The Times_ for +example, which still holds a certain pre-eminence of place, although it +is the fashion of a younger generation to decry it and to pretend that +it has lost all its influence, owing both to the change of public taste +in journalistic requirements and certain business enterprises which have +been associated with its name, spoke out to this effect with careful and +calculated sincerity. + +In an article which was extremely well written and had indubitably a +certain psychological insight, the leading journal condemned "De +Profundis" from an ethical point of view with no uncertain voice. It +said that, while it was possessed by every wish to understand the author +and to sympathise with him in the hideous ruin of his brilliant career, +it was impossible, except in a very few instances, to regard his +posthumous book as anything but a mere literary feat. + +The excellence of that was granted, but it was not allowed to be +anything more than that. + +It was not in this way, so said the writer in _The Times_, that souls +were laid bare, this was not sorrow, but the most dextrous counterfeit +of sorrow. Wilde, so the review stated, was "probably unable to cry from +the depths at all." His book simply showed that there was an armour of +egotism which no arrow of fate was able to pierce. Even in "De +Profundis" the poseur supplemented the artist, and the truth was not in +him. If the heart of a broken man showed at all in the book it must, +said _The Times_, "be looked for between the lines. It was rarely in +them." + +In short, so the review, when summed up and crystallised, implied, Wilde +was incapable of telling the truth about himself, or about anything at +all. Sometimes in his writings he fell upon the truth by accident, and +then his works contained a modicum of truth. Consciously, he was never +able to discover it, consciously, he was never able to enunciate it. + +Now, that is a point of view which is natural enough, but which, after +careful study, I cannot substantiate in any way. Over and over again +the same thing was said. Everybody was prepared, at last, to admit that +Wilde was a great artist--in direct contradiction to that condemnation +of even his literary power which was poured upon his works at the time +of his downfall--but the general opinion of the leading critics seemed +to point to the fact of "De Profundis" being a pose and insincere. + +Now, if the book was merely an excursion in attitude, a considered work +of art without any very profound relation to the truth of its personal +psychology, then I think the book would be a less saddening thing than +it undoubtedly is. Surely, the author had a perfect right, if he so +wished, to produce a psychological romance. This I know is not a +generally held opinion, but I do not see how anybody who knows anything +about the brain of the artist and the ethics of creation can really deny +it. If the work is absolutely sincere, as I believe it to be, then, from +the moral point of view, it is indeed a terrible document. It shows us +how little the extraordinary, complex temperament of Oscar Wilde was +really chastened and purified. It provides us with a moral picture of +monstrous egotism set in a frame of jewels. + +As has been said so often before in this book, the worse and insane side +of Oscar Wilde must always obscure and conquer the better and beautiful +side of him. + +Oscar Wilde describes himself as a "lord of language." This is perfectly +true. He goes on to say that he "stood in symbolic relations to the art +and culture of his time." This is only half true. He continues that "I +felt it myself and made others feel it." The first half of this sentence +is too true, the second half is untrue, inasmuch as it implies that he +made everyone feel it, whereas he mistook the flattery and adulation of +a tiny coterie for the applause and sanction of a nation. Oscar Wilde +always lived within four very narrow walls. At one time they were the +swaying misty walls conjured up by a few and not very important voices, +at another they were the walls of concrete and corrugated iron, the +whitewashed walls of his prison cell. He says that his relations to his +time were more noble, more permanent, of more vital issue, of larger +scope than Byron's relation to his time. Then, almost in the same +breath, he begins to tell us that there is only one thing for him now, +"absolute humility." That something hidden away in his nature like a +treasure in a field is "humility." + +Comment is almost cruel here. + +In another part of "De Profundis" the author airily and lightly touches +upon those horrors which had ruined him and made him what he was, and +which kept him where he was. + + "People thought it dreadful of me to have entertained at dinner + the evil things of life, and to have found pleasure in their + company. But then, from the point of view through which I, as an + artist in life, approached them, they were delightfully suggestive + and stimulating. The danger was half the excitement...." + +Is this Humility and is this Repentance? To me it seems as terrible a +conviction of madness and inability to understand the depth to which he +had sunk as one could find in the whole realm of literature. + +"People thought it dreadful of me to have entertained," etc. etc. Does +not the very phrase suggest that Wilde still thinks in his new-found +"humility" that it was not dreadful of him at all and that he had a +perfect right to do so? + +There is no doubt of his absolute sincerity. He is absolutely incapable +of understanding. He still thinks, lying in torture, that he has done +nothing wrong. He has made an error of judgment, he has misapprehended +his attitude towards society. He has not sinned. Once only does he +admit, in a single sentence, that any real culpability attached to him. +"I grew careless of the lives of others." This shows that a momentary +glimpse of the truth had entered that unhappy brain, but it is +carelessly uttered, and carelessly dismissed. All he cared for, if we +believe this book to be sincere, as I think nobody who really +understands the man and his mental condition at the time that it was +written, can fail to believe, is, that every fresh sensation at any cost +to himself and others, was his only duty towards himself and his art. + +Doubtless when he wrote "De Profundis" Oscar Wilde believed absolutely +in his own attitude. He was no Lucifer in his own account, no fallen +angel. He was only a spirit of light which had made a mistake and found +itself in fetters. That is the tragedy of the book, that its author +could never see himself as others saw him or realise that he had sinned. +When Satan fell from Heaven, in Milton's mighty work, he made no attempt +to persuade himself that he had found something hidden away within him +like a treasure in a field--"Humility." There was in the imaginary +portrait of the Author of Evil still an awful and impious defiance of +the Forces that controlled all nature and him as a part of nature. + +Oscar Wilde could look back upon all he did to himself and all the +incalculable evil he wrought upon others and say quite calmly that he +did not regret for a single moment having lived for pleasure. He tells +us that he threw the "pearl of his soul into a cup of wine," that he +"went down the primrose path to the sound of flutes." And then, after +living on honeycomb he realises that to have continued living on +honeycomb would have been wrong, because it would have arrested the +continuance of his development. + +"I had to pass on." + +Let us pass on also to a consideration of Wilde's teaching on +Christianity in "De Profundis." + + +THE AUTHOR'S VIEW OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH + +It is necessary to deal with this part of "De Profundis" which treats of +the unhappy author's "discoveries" in Christianity, because his views +were put so perfectly, with such a wealth of phrase, with such apparent +certainty of conviction, that they may well have an influence upon young +and impressionable minds which will be, and possibly has been, dangerous +and unsettling. + +There is no doubt but that the teaching of "De Profundis," or rather the +point of view enunciated in it, which deals with Christianity, shows +that Oscar Wilde had failed to gain any real insight into the Faith. It +is quite true that various of the sects within the English Church, +especially those which dissent from the Establishment, might find +themselves in accordance with much that Wilde said. A Catholic, however, +cannot for a moment admit that the poet's teachings are anything but +paradoxical, dangerous, and untrue. + +A minister of the Protestant Church, Canon Beeching, preaching at +Westminster Abbey on "The Sinlessness of Christ," referred to the +portions of "De Profundis," with which I am dealing now, in no uncertain +way. + +There are here and there things that a Catholic would not entirely +endorse in Canon Beeching's sermon, yet, on the whole, it is a very sane +and fair presentation of what a Christian must think in reading "De +Profundis." It is as well to say frankly, that I write as a Catholic, +and, in this section of my criticism, for those who are also of the +Faith. + +I print some extracts from Canon Beeching's sermon: + +"One wonders sometimes," said he, "if Englishmen have given up reading +their gospels. A book has lately appeared which presents a caricature of +the portrait of Christ, and especially a travesty of His doctrine about +sin, that is quite astonishing; and with one or two honourable +exceptions the daily and weekly Press have praised the book +enthusiastically, and especially the study it gives of the character of +Christ; whereas, if that picture were true, the Pharisees were right +when they said to Him that He cast out devils through Beelzebub, and the +priests were right in sending Him to death as a perverter of the people. +The writer of the book, who is dead, was a man of exceptional literary +talent, who fell into disgrace; and whether it is pity for his sad fate +or admiration of his style in writing that has cast a spell upon the +reviewers and blinded them to his meaning, I cannot say; but I do say +they have not done their duty to English society by lauding the book as +they have done, without giving parents and guardians some hint that it +preaches a doctrine of sin, which, if taken into romantic and +impressionable hearts, will send them quickly down the road of shame. +The chief point on which the writer fixes is Christ's behaviour to the +sinners; and his theory is that Christ consorted with them because He +found them more interesting than the good people, who were stupid. 'The +world,' he says, 'had always loved the saint as being the nearest +possible approach to the perfection of God; Christ, through some divine +instinct in Him, seems to have always loved the sinner as being the +nearest possible approach to the perfection of man. To turn an +interesting thief into a tedious honest man was not His aim.... But in a +manner not yet understood of the world He regarded sin and suffering as +being in themselves beautiful and holy things, and modes of perfection.' +It seems to have struck the writer at this point that our Lord had +Himself explained that He consorted with sinners, as a physician with +the sick, to call them to repentance. For he goes on:--'Of course the +sinner must repent; but why?--simply because otherwise he would be +unable to realise what he had done.' In other words, a man is the +better for any sort of emotional experience, when it is past, because he +is fertilised by it as by a crop of wild oats; a form of philosophy +which Tennyson in 'In Memoriam' well characterised as 'Procuress to the +Lords of Hell.' But even this writer, absolutely shameless and unabashed +as he is, does not hint that Christ Himself gained His moral beauty by +sinning. The lowest depth of woe is theirs who call evil good and good +evil, for that is a poisoning of the well of life. What is the use of +calling Jesus "good" if we destroy the very meaning of goodness? May God +have pardoned the sin of the man who put this stumbling-block in the way +of the simple, and may He shield our boys and young men from that +doctrine of devils that the way of perfection lies through sin." + +These words, although they are obviously said without any sympathy +whatever for Oscar Wilde, have the germ of truth within them. Strong as +they are, and no one who had really studied the whole work and life of +Oscar Wilde would perhaps care to make so fierce a statement, they are, +nevertheless, words of weight and value. I have no record among my +documents of any Catholic priest who dealt with the Christian aspect of +"De Profundis" upon its publication. Nevertheless, I have conversed with +Christians of all denominations on the subject of Wilde's "discovery" +of Christ, and I am certain that I am only representing the Christian +point of view when I state that a wholesale condemnation of the +doctrines Wilde enunciated is the only thing possible for us. Of the way +in which his doctrines were enunciated no one with a literary sense and +who takes a joy in fine, artistic achievement, can fail to give a +tribute of whole-hearted praise and admiration. + +Let us consider. + +Morality, philosophy, religion, Wilde has already confessed have no +controlling force or power for him. Yet, he takes up the position of +those dim and early seekers after the Presence of Divinity. He would see +"Jesus." Accordingly, Wilde writes of our Lord very beautifully indeed. +He tells us that the basis of "His nature was an intense and flame-like +imagination.... There is almost something incredible in the idea of the +young Galilean Peasant imagining that he could bear on his own shoulders +the burden of the entire world--all that has been done and suffered, and +all that was to be done and suffered--and not merely imagining it, but +achieving it." + +As another Anglican minister, Canon Gorton, appointed out at the time, +Wilde states that Christ ranks next to the poets. There is nothing in +the highest drama which can approach the last act of Christ's Passion. +Our Lord becomes, in Wilde's eyes, the source of all art. He is a +requisite for the beautiful. He is in "Romeo and Juliet," in "The +Winter's Tale" in Provencal poetry, and in "The Ancient Mariner." "Hence +Christ becomes the palpitating centre of romance, He has all the colour +elements of life, mystery, strangeness, pathos, suggestion, ecstasy, +love." + +And then Wilde finally says "that is why he is so fascinating to +artists." This summing up of the personality and mission of the Saviour +of the world as a mere element in the life of mental or spiritual +pleasure enjoyed by those who are cultivated to such a life at all, +strikes the Christian man or woman with dismay. It is horrible, this +patronising analysis of the Redeemer as another and great Dante, merely +a supreme artist to whom artists should bow because of that, and no +more. + +Wilde, in fact, definitely states that the artistic life means for him +the tasting in turn of good and evil, the entertainment of saints and +devils, for the sake of extending the circle of his friends. He +approaches the Personality of Christ _sub specie artis_, and only in +this way, and his words are the more terrible to the devout Christian +because they are so beautiful. Do we not remember, indeed, that once +when a young man knelt to our Lord and called Him "good," the Saviour +put him aside? Does it not strike one that there is something very +nearly blasphemous in the man who had lived the consciously antinomian +life that Oscar Wilde lived daring to call the Saviour idyllic, poetic, +dramatic, charming, fascinating? Does not the poet use the personality +of our Lord as a mere peg on which to hang his own gorgeous and jewelled +imagery, a reed through which he should make his own artistic music? Our +Lord did not come into the world to win admiration but to win the soul +from sin. His appeal was not to our imagination, but to our dormant +souls to rouse and strengthen them. + +Oscar Wilde writes of Jesus, but there is no Cross. There is a Saviour, +but no repentance, no renewal, of life, no effort after Holiness. + +It is terrible, indeed, to think of the poor unhappy author striving to +appreciate Jesus, though surely even his blind semi-appreciation of the +Personality of our Lord was better than none at all, and then to know +that even the little germ of truth which seemed to have come into his +life was forgotten and pushed away when once more the "appreciator" of +Jesus of Nazareth returned to the world. + +As an English minister pointed out, the moral of Wilde's attitude +towards the Christian Faith is as old as Scripture itself, and as modern +as Browning also, who, in the painter's question--"gave art, and what +more wish you?" replied-- + + "To become now self-acquainters, + And paint man, man, whatever the issue, + Make new hopes shine through the flesh they fray, + New fears aggrandise the rags and tatters, + To bring the invisible full into play, + Let the visible go to the dogs--what matters?" + + * * * * * + +Finally we have to ask ourselves what is the precise value of this last +legacy Oscar Wilde has left to us? I think it is just this. We have upon +our shelves a piece of incomparable prose. I know of nothing written in +recent years that comes anywhere near it as an almost flawless work of +art. Nobody who cares for English literature or who understands in the +least degree, what fine writing is and means, will ever neglect this +minor classic. From another point of view also, it has its value. We who +appreciate the immense genius of Oscar Wilde and mourn for a wrecked +life and the extinction of a bright intellect, will care for and +treasure this volume for its personal pathos, its high and serene beauty +of expression, and also because, as a psychological document, it throws +a greater light upon the extraordinary brain and personality of its +author than anything he had written in the past. + + + + +INDEX + + + AEsthetic Movement, 7-9, 12, 19, 22, 29 + + AEsthetics-- + Art and morality, 337-344 + Art criticism distinguished from, 333 + Meaning and scope of, 332 + Ruskin's teaching regarding, 338-340 + Wilde's belief in his vocation as to, 331; + his writings, 333; + his lectures, 334-336 + + America, Wilde's tour in, 18, 29; + quotation from his lectures, 334-336 + + Anderson, Miss Mary, 199-200 + + _Apologia_, 269 + + Aristotle cited, 342 + + Art-- + Art's sake, for, 345 + Morality and, 337-344 + Wilde's writings on, 333 + + _Ave Imperatrix_, 248-250 + + + _Ballad of Reading Gaol_-- + Criticisms of, 285-286 + Dedication of, 287 + Estimate of, 262, 283-284, 298 + Quotations from, 287-297 + Revision of, 286 + Otherwise mentioned, 86, 273 + + Ballad parody, 266 + + _Ballade de Marguerite_, 264-265 + + Baudelaire, Charles, influence of, on Wilde, 245-246, 258, 273, 274, 282; + quoted, 245, 252; + _Danse Macabre_ quoted, 274-276 + + Baugham, E. A., quoted--on _Salome_, 195-197 + + Beardsley, Aubrey, 40-41 + + Beeching, Canon, quoted--on _De Profundis_, 387-389 + + Berneval, Wilde's life at, 84 + + Bernhardt, Mme. Sarah, 161, 187-188; + Wilde's sonnet to, 267 + + _Birthday of the Infanta, The_, 239 + + Boswell quoted, 373-374 + + + _Chanson_, 265 + + _Charmides_, 263-264 + + Currie, Lady, quoted, 285-286 + + + _Daily Chronicle_-- + "Salome" _Critique_ in, quoted, 190-192 + Wilde's letters to, cited, 81-84 + + _Daily Mirror_ cited, 74 + + _Daily Telegraph_, extract from, 65-68 + + D'Aubrevilly, Barbey, quoted, 283 + + _De Profundis_-- + Authenticity of, as prison-written, 71-76, 364-365 + Biblical influence, 376-377 + Christ as depicted in, 386-392 + Estimate of, 362, 393 + Extracts from, 359-360, 376, 378, 383-386, 390-391 + Preface to, 366-367 + Press criticisms on, 380 + Publication and reception of, 362-363 + Ross, R., on publication of, 363-366 + Self-revelation in, 360, 379-386 + Sincerity of, 382, 384-385 + Style of, 371-373, 375-378; + Subject matter of, 367-371 + + _Des Sponettes_, 269 + + _Devoted Friend, The_, 229, 233-234 + + _Dole of the King's Daughter, The_, 265 + + Dress, _rationale_ of, 14-15 + + _Duchess of Padua, The_-- + Anderson, Miss Mary, refusal by, 199-200 + Estimate of, 199, 205-206 + Influences in, 49 + Plot of, 200-204 + Production of, in Berlin, 205 + + + _E Tenebris_, 256, 257 + + _Endymion_, 263 + + + Fairy Stories, the-- + _Format_ of 1891 Edition of, 239-240 + Pathos of, 228 + Sacred matters, allusions to, 230-231 + Style of, 229 + + _Fisherman and his Soul, The_, 240-241 + + _Florentine Tragedy, The_-- + Plot of, 217-218 + Production of, 215, 216, 219 + Theft of, 215 + + Flowers-- + Decorative effect of, 45-46 + Wilde's love of, 250-251, 260, 271 + + _Fortnightly Review_-- + _Ballad of Reading Gaol_ criticised in, 285-286 + _Poems in Prose_ in, 348 + _Soul of Man, The_, in, 352 + + _Fourth Movement, The_, 268 + + Fyfe, Hamilton, cited, 75 + + + _Garden of Eros, The_, 250-253 + + Gide, Andre, 77 + + Gorton, Canon, cited, 390 + + Grolleau, Charles, estimate of Wilde by, 47-48 + + + _Happy Prince and Other Tales, The_, 227-231. + (_See also titles of the stories._) + + _Harlot's House, The_, 272-274 + + _Helas_, 248 + + Holloway Prison, journalistic account of Wilde in, 59-64 + + House decoration, 44-46 + + _House of Pomegranates, The_, 235-239 + + _Humanitad_, 270 + + + _Ideal Husband, The_-- + Characters of, 129-131 + Estimate of, 129, 148 + Plot of, 131-148 + + _Importance Of Being Earnest, The_-- + Estimate of, 149 + Plot of, 150-154 + Quotations from, 154-156 + Reception of, 150, 156 + Otherwise mentioned, 40 + + _Impression de Voyage_, 267 + + _Impression du Matin_, 263 + + _Impressions de Theatre_, 267 + + _Incomparable and Ingenious History of Mr W. H., The_-- + Story of, 320-322 + Theft of, 215, 220, 302 + Theory of, 323-327 + Value of, 322 + + _Intentions_, 49, 336, 337, 345-348, 375 + + Irving, Sir Henry, Wilde's Sonnet to, 267 + + + Japanese artistic sense, 46 + + Johnson, Dr, quoted, 374 + + + Keats, influence of, on Wilde, 246, 263, 264; + Wilde's epitaph on, 266-267 + + + _La Bella Donna della mia Mante_, 263 + + Labouchere, H., estimate of Wilde by, 17-19 + + _Lady Windermere's Fan_-- + Extracts from, 111-118 + Plot of, 107-109 + Reception of, by the public, 95, 106; + by critics, 104-106 + + Le Gallienne, Richard, cited, 336-337 + + _Le Reveillon_, 268 + + _Lord Arthur Savile's Crime_, 320 + + + _Madonna Mia_, 257 + + _Magdalen Walks_, 262-263 + + Meyerfeld, Dr Max, 192-193 + + Moonlight, Wilde's sentiment for, 168 + + Moore, Sturge, 216 + + Morris, Wm., Wilde's estimate of, 251 + + + Nature, Wilde's love of, 260, 271-272 + + Nicholson, Dr, cited, 75 + + _Nightingale and the Rose, The_, 231-232 + + Nordau, Dr Max, 9-12; + criticism of Wilde by, 12-16 + + + Oxford Union debate on the AEsthetic Movement, 39-41 + + + _Panthea_, 267-268 + + Pater, Walter, quoted, 371-372; + cited, 374 + + _Pen, Pencil and Poison_, cited, 379-380 + + Pennington, Harper, portrait of Wilde by, 44 + + _Picture of Dorian Gray, The_-- + Epigrams from, in Wilde's plays, 315 + Estimate of, 319 + Extracts from, 312-313, 316-318 + Huysmans' influence in, 49 + Preface to, 303 + Story of, 304-312 + + Poe, E. A., influence of, on Wilde, 246, 273 + + _Poems in Prose_, 348-352, 373 + + Poems, pastoral, 259-262. + (_See also titles of Poems._) + + Poetry, Wilde's views as to simplicity in, 246-247 + + Precious stones, Wilde's knowledge of, 312 + + Proverbs, Wilde's transmutations of, 319 + + _Punch_, 21-22, 38; + bibliography of references to Wilde in, 23-28; + quotations, 29-34, 271 + + + Queensberry case, 56 + + _Quia Multi Amori_, 269 + + + _Ravenna_, 247-248 + + Reading Gaol-- + _Ballad of Reading Gaol_, see that title + Cruelties perpetrated in, 81-83 + Wilde's removal to, 370; + his life in, 76-78, 85 + + Rebell, Hugues, estimate of Wilde by, 48-50 + + _Remarkable Rocket, The_, 234-235 + + _Requiescat_, 253-254 + + Ricketts, C. S., 192, 193, 239-240, 283 + + Roman Catholic Church, influence of, on Wilde, 240, 254-255, 258, 272, + 315 + + _Rome Unvisited_, 240, 256 + + Ross, Robert, quoted--on theft of Wilde's MSS., 215; + on publication of _De Profundis_, 363-366; + cited, 217; + mentioned, 75 + + Rossetti, D. G., influence of, on Wilde, 246, 252, 254, 256-258, 265 + + Ruskin, John, quoted, 338-340 + + + _Sage Green_, 266 + + _St James's Gazelle_, extract from, 72-74 + + _Salome_-- + Beardsley's illustrations to, 184-185 + Bernhardt, written for, 161; + her dealings regarding, 187-188 + Censor's prohibition of, 187 + Criticisms on, quoted, 190-198 + German popularity of, 365 + Language of, 186 + Production of--in Paris, 188; + in London, 189-193; + in various Continental countries, 193-194; + in Berlin, 195; + in New York, 195 + Stage directions of, 167, 185-186 + Stagecraft of, 181-182 + Story of, 162-180 + Tone of, 183 + + _San Miniato_, 255 + + Scott, Clement, criticism by, of _Lady Windermere's Fan_, quoted, 104, + 105 + + _Selfish Giant, The_, 232-233 + + _Serenade, A_, 263 + + Shakespeare's influence on Wilde, 264 + + Shannon, Mr, 239 + + Shaw, G. B., _Don Juan in Hell_, cited, 121-123, 157 + + Sherard, R. H., cited, 6, 11, 84 + + Sibbern, cited, 342 + + Simon, J. A., quoted, 39-41 + + Socialism, Wilde's views on, 353 + + _Soul of Man, The_, 235, 352-355 + + _Sphinx, The_, 272, 276-283 + + _Star-Child, The_, 241-242 + + _Story of an Unhappy Friendship, The_, cited, 6 + + Style, 246, 371-378 + + Swinburne, A. C., Wilde's estimate of, 251 + + Symons, Arthur, cited, 333 + + + Tapestry, Wilde's knowledge of, 313 + + Terry, Miss Ellen, Wilde's sonnets to, 267 + + _Times, The_-- + _Ballad of Reading Gaol_ praised by, 285 + _De Profundis_ criticised by, 380-381 + + _Tribune_, extract from, 215-217 + + _Truth_, extract from, 69-70 + + + _Vera, or The Nihilists_-- + Dramatis personae of, 207-208 + Estimate of, 212-213 + Plot of, 208-212 + Production of, in America, 207 + + + Wainwright the poisoner, 379 + + Wilde, Constance Mary, 235, 248; + quoted, 44-46 + + Wilde, Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills-- + Ancestry of, 11 + Appreciation of, growth of, 3-5 + Career of-- + first period, 7, 16-42; + second, 42-53, + third, 53-79; + fourth, 79-90; + tour in America, 18, 29; + bankruptcy, 215, 220, 368; + refusal to forfeit his bail, 54-57; + the Queensberry case, 56; + trial and sentence, 65; + Clapham Junction episode, 370; + life in Reading Gaol, 76-78, 85; + release, 76; + last years, 84-88; + death, 88 + Characteristics of-- + Charm of manner, 46 + Complexity, 50-51, 79 + Conversational brilliancy, 34, 46, 86, 349 + Eccentricity, 38 + Egoism, 51-52, 349, 382 + Flowers, love of, 250-251, 260 + Generosity, 46, 51 + Humour, 17 + Imaginative faculty, 301 + Kindliness and gentleness, 46, 51, 77 + Language, felicity of, 252, 378 + Loyalty to friends, 53, 55 + Moonlight, sentiment for, 168 + Narrowness of view, 383 + Nature, love of, 260, 271-272 + Perversity and whimsicality, 34 + Profusion and splendour, taste for, 46 + Self-plagiarism, 315 + Versatility, 90, 301 + Wit, 46, 98, 103 + Dramatic powers of-- + Brilliancy of dialogue, 95-99, 110 + Plot interest, 97-98 + Reality of characters and scenes, 96, 100, 102 + Estimates of, by-- + Grolleau, M. Charles, 47-48 + Labouchere, H., 17-19 + Nordau, Dr Max, 12-16 + Rebell, Hugues, 48-50 + Fiction of, characteristics of, 302-303 + Home of, at Chelsea, 43-44 + Insanity of, 11-12, 91, 382, 384 + Interview with, quoted, 35-38 + _Life of_, by Sherard, cited, 6 + Literary style of, 371-378 + Portrait of, by Penninton, 44 + Work of, absolutely distinct from private life, 4, 68 + + Wilde, William, cited, 55 + + _Woman Covered With Jewels, The_-- + Bernhardt, written for, 221 + Loss of MS. of, 220-221 + Plot of, 222-223 + + _Woman Of No Importance, A_-- + Characters of, 126-128 + Dialogue of, 120-123 + Plot of, 123-125 + Popularity of, 121-123, 128 + Reception of, 119 + + _Woman's World, The_, Wilde's editorship of, 42 + + Words, Wilde's felicitous choice of, 252 + + + + +A Catalogue of the Publications of T. Werner Laurie. + + + ABBEYS OF GREAT BRITAIN, The (H. Clairborne Dixon and E. Ramsden). + 6s. net. (Cathedral Series.) + + ABBEYS OF ENGLAND, The (Elsie M. Lang). 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