LADY WINDERMERE’S FAN: AN EXPLANATION

(St. James’s Gazette, February 27, 1892.)

To the Editor of the St. James’s Gazette.

SIR,—Allow me to correct a statement put forward in your issue of this evening to the effect that I have made a certain alteration in my play in consequence of the criticism of some journalists who write very recklessly and very foolishly in the papers about dramatic art.  This statement is entirely untrue and grossly ridiculous.

The facts are as follows.  On last Saturday night, after the play was over, and the author, cigarette in hand, had delivered a delightful and immortal speech, I had the pleasure of entertaining at supper a small number of personal friends; and as none of them was older than myself I, naturally, listened to their artistic views with attention and pleasure.  The opinions of the old on matters of Art are, of course, of no value whatsoever.  The artistic instincts of the young are invariably fascinating; and I am bound to state that all my friends, without exception, were of opinion that the psychological interest of the second act would be greatly increased by the disclosure of the actual relationship existing between Lady Windermere and Mrs. Erlynne—an opinion, I may add, that had previously been strongly held and urged by Mr. Alexander.

As to those of us who do not look on a play as a mere question of pantomime and clowning psychological interest is everything, I determined, consequently, to make a change in the precise moment of revelation.  This determination, however, was entered into long before I had the opportunity of studying the culture, courtesy, and critical faculty displayed in such papers as the Referee, Reynolds’, and the Sunday Sun.

When criticism becomes in England a real art, as it should be, and when none but those of artistic instinct and artistic cultivation is allowed to write about works of art, artists will, no doubt, read criticisms with a certain amount of intellectual interest.  As things are at present, the criticisms of ordinary newspapers are of no interest whatsoever, except in so far as they display, in its crudest form, the Bœotianism of a country that has produced some Athenians, and in which some Athenians have come to dwell.—I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

OSCAR WILDE.
February 26.

SALOMÉ

(Times, March 2, 1893.)

To the Editor of the Times.

SIR,—My attention has been drawn to a review of Salomé which was published in your columns last week. {170}  The opinions of English critics on a French work of mine have, of course, little, if any, interest for me.  I write simply to ask you to allow me to correct a misstatement that appears in the review in question.

The fact that the greatest tragic actress of any stage now living saw in my play such beauty that she was anxious to produce it, to take herself the part of the heroine, to lend to the entire poem the glamour of her personality, and to my prose the music of her flute-like voice—this was naturally, and always will be, a source of pride and pleasure to me, and I look forward with delight to seeing Mme. Bernhardt present my play in Paris, that vivid centre of art, where religious dramas are often performed.  But my play was in no sense of the words written for this great actress.  I have never written a play for any actor or actress, nor shall I ever do so.  Such work is for the artisan in literature—not for the artist.—I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,

OSCAR WILDE.

THE THIRTEEN CLUB

(Times, January 16, 1894.)

At a dinner of the Thirteen Club held at the Holborn Restaurant on January 13, 1894, the Chairman (Mr. Harry Furniss) announced that from Mr. Oscar Wilde the following letter had been received:—

I have to thank the members of your Club for their kind invitation, for which convey to them, I beg you, my sincere thanks.  But I love superstitions.  They are the colour element of thought and imagination.  They are the opponents of common sense.  Common sense is the enemy of romance.  The aim of your Society seems to be dreadful.  Leave us some unreality.  Do not make us too offensively sane.  I love dining out, but with a Society with so wicked an object as yours I cannot dine.  I regret it.  I am sure you will all be charming, but I could not come, though 13 is a lucky number.

THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM

I.

(Pall Mall Gazette, September 20, 1894.)

To the Editor of the Pall Mall Gazette.

SIR,—Will you allow me to draw your attention to a very interesting example of the ethics of modern journalism, a quality of which we have all heard so much and seen so little?

About a month ago Mr. T. P. O’Connor published in the Sunday Sun some doggerel verses entitled ‘The Shamrock,’ and had the amusing impertinence to append my name to them as their author.  As for some years past all kinds of scurrilous personal attacks had been made on me in Mr. O’Connor’s newspapers, I determined to take no notice at all of the incident.

Enraged, however, by my courteous silence, Mr. O’Connor returns to the charge this week.  He now solemnly accuses me of plagiarising the poem he had the vulgarity to attribute to me. {172}

This seems to me to pass beyond even those bounds of coarse humour and coarser malice that are, by the contempt of all, conceded to the ordinary journalist, and it is really very distressing to find so low a standard of ethics in a Sunday newspaper.—I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,

OSCAR WILDE.
September 18.