Compare Documents

Oscar Wilde, whose downfall is the talk of two continents, first achieved notoriety as a prostrate apostle, and then as the leader of the then infantile aesthetic craze. He carried his aesthetic peculiarities so far that he became the subject of Du Maurier’s caricaturing pencil and Gilbert’s satirizing fun. That may have been what he was trying for. Neither the caricaturist nor the satirist diminished the ardor with which Wilde purpled what was vaguely called aestheticism. The Bunthornes of "Patience" made up in exact imitation of Wilde, and he posed in the lobbies of the same theatres and composed phrases which outdid, in lily-like languages, the phrases Gilbert has thought to be satires. One of the songs of "Patience," which seemed to contain a more or less pointed allusion to Wilde, ran:—

Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion Should excite your languid spleen; An attachment, a la Plato, for a bashful young potato, Or a not too French French bean; Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle In the sentimental band, If you walk walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily In your mediaeval hand; And every one will say As you walk your mystic may, "If he’s content with vegetable love that would certainly not suit me, Why, what a most peculiarly pure young man this pure young man must be."

The more limp Du Maurier drew his caricature the limper was Oscar when he confronted the next assemblage; the longer Du Maurier made his people’s hair the longer Wilde stayed away from the barber’s.

The ridicule of the playwright frightened many of his disciples into everyday garb and an attempt at common-sense conversation. The undaunted Oscar would not yield. He found it to his profit not to do so. Even at a supper party, graced by the presence of the Prince of Wales, he appeared in his characteristic costume.

It happened that Grossmith, the original Bunthorne, was also present. He yielded to the general importunity to sing the famous Bunthorne solo. The presence of the original of the "Pure Young Man," gave additional zest to the verses. At the close the admirer of a "bashful young potato, or a not too French, French bean," was dragged bodily up before His Royal Highness, with two words, "This is the man." But Oscar imperturbably preserved his placid smile amid the general merriment.

Perhaps Oscar found it to his interest not to resent the stage caricatures. At the very height of the "Patience" fever came the announcement of Oscar Wilde’s poems. Then it was seen that the young man was only pretending to be an idiot. His verses on "England," his "Ave Imperatrix," though too Tennysionian, and his "Garden of Eros," though too Swinburnian, his neo-Catholic poems, gathered under the general head of "[…] Mystics, had the right ring in them. They announced that a true poet had been born.

But the most sincere and genuine of all was the introductory sonnet, full of and vain longing and regret. Here it is. It casts a curious light upon a curious personality:—

HELAS!

To drift with every passion till my soul Is a stringed lute, on which all winds can play, Is it for this that I have given away Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?— Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll Scrawled over on some boyish holiday, With idle songs for pipe and virelay, Which do but mar the secret of the whole. 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: Is that time dead? Lo! with a little rod I do but touch the honey of romances— And must I lose a soul’s inheritance?

Wilde is no longer young, nor very romantic, nor has he anything of the outward aesthete of former days. He is fat, heavy-eyed and prosperous, married, a father and a snug householder. There is no denying that he is sagacious, for he not only makes himself a social position with his fade, but makes money aa well.

There are other curious things about him. For example he pays his debts. For another thing, while everlastingly posing as a triller, an idler and a blase, man of the world, he is a hard worker and one of the most industrious men in London. There are plenty of men in England and in this country with a great reputation for industry who do not work half as hard as he does.

Ever since he was rusticated from Oxford Wilde has been a good money-maker. What is odder still, he lives within his income. As to his marriage, in "The Green Carnation" there is a report of his own version of it. It is very funny, but it does not happen to be true. As a matter of fact Wilde has a charming wife, who adores him, all his present notoriety to the contrary notwithstanding. He has two fine, manly boys, Vivian and Clarence, eleven and thirteen years old, and to the resting of these boys and to devotion to her husband. Mrs Wilde has given her life. She has educated youngsters herself; they have never been to school.

Mrs Wilde was an Irish girl, Miss Constance Lloyd, daughter of an eminent barrister and is counted among the most beautiful women in London. She inherited a fortune of several thousand dollars. Mr Wilde’s plays bring large royalties, and he and his family live in luxurious style.

Wilde declares that between them these boys have ruined him as a poet, and as a last resort he has been compelled to become a dramatic author. "A dramatic author," he says "can endure a tumult; a poet cannot. Noise has not, as I once fancied it would, robbed me of life — it has simply stifled the soul of poetry that was once within me."

Wilde is not only a model husband — he even attends his wife’s receptions with unflagging regularity, and he is a devoted son as well. There is a touch of Irish gallantry in his attitude toward his mother, who is one of the most interesting women in London.

Wilde came to America about 12 years ago, frankly advertising as a freak lecturing on "Aestheticism." He wore knee breeches, silk hose, lace cuffs, and was otherwise variously freakish in his dress. At Boston a half hundred Harvard boys marched into his lecture hall dressed as he was, each carrying a lily. Wilde’s noted imperturbability did not desert him. He merely lisped, "How tenderly droll" and went on with his lecture.

In a western city he was the guest of a club, among whose members were a number of stout drinkers. They undertook to "tank up the aesthete," as they expressed it. The process was long. As the sun was breaking into the club windows Wilde looked over a room strewn with fallen braves, and said to the one man still able to comprehend speech:

"We’ve had a charmingly quiet little evening. Don’t you feel like a bit of a run about town before breakfast?"

Up to the time of his American lecturing tour Wilde had done little else to attract attention to himself. He was known to be the son of exceptionally clever parents, and winner of the Newdigate at Oxford; but, besides cleverly advertising himself and writing a few verses, he had done no clever original work, and was not seriously considered. His reputation as a lecturer, man of fashion, wit, poet, novelist, essayist, playwright, has been made in most particulars, in the last half dozen years.

Oscar Wilde comes of parentage distinguished alike in social and in intellectual life. His father was Sir William Wilde, the late eminent surgeon, who for many years was surgeon oculist to Queen Victoria, who was the founder and lifelong chief of staff of St. Mark’s Ophthalmic and Aural Hospital, of Dublin; who had a European reputation in his profession, who wilded an immense personal influence in Ireland through his magnetic qualities and wide information, and who was known to antiquarians and historians by his passionate devotion to the study of archeology.

Twice he was elected president of the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin. His published works, "The Shores of Lough Corrib and Lough Mask," are everywhere recognized as scholarly contributions to the early history of Ireland. He was knighted in 1853 in recognition both of his professional and of his arduous and successful labor in producing the first elaborate and reliable census of his native land.

Oscar Wilde’s mother, who is now 77, is perhaps the most famous woman poet in Ireland. Her patriotic poems and lyrics, produced under the pseudonym of "Speranza," endeared her to the heart of her countrymen. One especially, "The Famine of Ireland," is still remembered, and may be found in almost any anthology of poetry. It is a grim and masterly description of the desolation produced by the famine of 1849.

Mrs Frank Leslie, once the wife of Wm Wilde, has known Oscar Wilde and his family 15 years. When the libel suit began Mrs Leslie predicted that Mr Wilde would win his case.

"I suppose I am to be classed as a false prophet," Mrs Leslie said to a reporter yesterday. "But I must judge Mr Wilde only as I knew him, that is, as a dignified, high-minded gentleman, a perfect son, a kind, considerate husband, and a doting, affectionate parent. I cannot imagine why he gave up the battle, when surrender meant a practical admission of guilt.

"It is certainly hard to lose faith in a good husband and ideal son, a man who pays his bills and who does not dissipate, who loved the beautiful and has done so much for the world by encouraging a love of the beautiful. Too much importance, it seems to me, has been attached to the extravagant language used by Oscar Wilde. It is simply a rapsodical style of talk common among people of that set."

If this is the Oscar Wilde of today, how does it happen that such a really clever, gifted, successful, industrious man has brought upon himself the scandal of the Queensberry trial, with all its unspeakable details? This question was put to Mrs Langtry, who is probably more intimately acquainted with Wilde than any one else in New York, says the World of that city. Mrs Langtry said:

"Dear me! All theses fads and doings of Mr Wilde’s are not to be taken seriously. I don’t think that people in London take them seriously any more than he does himself. I have known Oscar ever since he was rusticated from Oxford, and he was always full of these things, you know. He writes a play upon "The Importance of Being Earnest," without the slightest notion of what it means to be serious or in earnest himself.

"I don’t think he takes himself seriously or intends that other people shall. He is so clever, so jolly, and his wit so deliciously Irish that people put up with his fads, admire them immensely, in fact, and when he begins to reel off his epigrams and paradoxes all one can do is to laugh at him and understand that he hardly means a word he says. He moves in the very best of society, and I don’t think there is a man in London who is better liked."

But though the British matron was not aroused, British manhood was. For years past Oscar Wilde was quietly avoided by the better class, even by men-about-town.

It was intimated, though under the breath, that he was a person not to be courted. Vague whispers, all the more awful, perhaps, for their very vagueness, passed from masculine lips about the horror of his inner life. The whispers did not reach the blazonment of print; they did not pollute the ears of the innocent. None the less, they caused Oscar Wilde to be shunned by those whose taboo is a very stigma and a reproach. At last an angry father uttered aloud what others had only whispered. With that utterance, Oscar Wilde fell.

He has fallen so deep that no hand can raise him without being besmirched with his own infamy. But in the gutter where he lies once can, without offence, do him such justice, at least, as he deserves. He was certainly a good son, patient, loving, devoted. He appeared to be a kind husband and a fond father, and his work had much in it that was useful. It is a pity that his hatred of conventionality and traditional shame had so much in it that it was itself a sham, and worse.

In the fall of Oscar Wilde art and literature have innocently suffered. But better no art and no literature than the acceptance of Wilde.

LONDON, April 6. -- Crowds of people filled the Bow street neighborhood early this morning, and the police court was packed with interested spectators as soon as the doors were opened. Among those who succeeded in pressing through the crowd was one good-looking middle-aged woman. All were anxious to see Oscar Wilde, whose arrest yesterday, following close upon the sensational termination of his suit for libel against the Marquis of Queensberry, is discussed on all sides.

Mr. C. F. Gill, who was Mr. Edward M. Carson's junior counsel in the defense of the Marquis of Queensberry, acted as prosecutor today for the Treasury Department. Sir John Bridge, the presiding magistrate, took his seat on the bench at 11 o'clock. The doors leading to the cells were then opened and Wilde was seen approaching, carrying a silk hat in his hand.

Still Insolent in His Manner.

When Wilde reached the center of the prisoners' dock he deposited his hat on the seat, bowed to Sir John Bridge, folded his arms, and leaned on the rail of the dock in the same insolent manner which he displayed while on the witness stand in the Old Bailey.

Mr. Gill said that he appeared to prosecute the prisoner on a series of charges of committing and inciting others to commit crimes. A young man named Parker was then called to the stand, but the proceedings were interrupted by the official announcing that the man Taylor had been arrested. A few moments later Taylor was brought into court and placed in the dock beside Wilde, who nodded to him.

Parker was then examined and related at length, giving the most minute details of his associations with Wilde. While he was giving this testimony Wilde moved restlessly in the dock and passed his hands across his face. Parker added that he was arrested with Taylor in the raid in 18914 in the house in Fitzroy Square, but he claimed that he had since abandoned his evil life.

Counsel for Wilde asked leave to postpone the cross-examination of Parker, as the evidence had taken them by surprise. Parker was then bound over to testify at the trial of Wilde.

Mrs. Grant Startles the Court.

The woman previously referred to as having entered the courtroom early this morning was the next witness. She gave her name as Mrs. Grant and said that she let rooms to Taylor, who, she added, was visited by a number of young men. When Mrs. Grant was asked to state the ages of these young men she replied that they were from 16 upward. The statement caused a sensation in court.

Mrs. Grant was then asked if she could identify Wilde as a visitor to Taylor's rooms. She replied that she could not. Thereupon Sir John Bridge said brusquely:

"Wilde, stand up."

Wilde arose, but the witness was still unable to recognize him. But, replying to counsel's questions, she said that she remembered Taylor addressed one visitor as "Oscar." Replying to further questions Mrs. Grant said that Taylor's rooms were well furnished and highly perfumed. Taylor, she added, dressed effeminately.

Alfred Woods, a slim young man, was then called to the stand. He testified that Taylor introduced him to Wilde in January, 1893, and that Wilde gave him a great deal of money and a watch and chain. Witness also said that soon afterward he told Taylor that he wanted to "get away from Wilde and other people."

Counsel, interrupting, said:

"Let us deal with the case of Wilde alone. But, I believe there were other people present at these gatherings."

The witness replied yes, and that one or two of them have left the country. The witness added that Taylor told Wilde that he (the witness) wanted to go to America, whereupon Wilde asked to have certain letters returned to him. When he received these letters Wilde gave the witness £35. The witness (Woods) then went to America.

Sidney Maver, a good-looking youth, followed Woods upon the witness stand. He testified that he met Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas at Taylor's rooms. A masseur at the Savoy Hotel next testified.

Willie Wilde a Spectator.

Willie Wilde, Oscar Wilde's brother, entered the courtroom at this stage of the proceedings, and listened to the remainder of the evidence from the back of the room.

After a chambermaid of the Savoy Hotel had given evidence Sir John Bridge remanded Wilde until Thursday next. Counsel asked that his client, Wilde, be released on bail, but the magistrate declined to do so. Counsel persisted, saying that he could offer substantial bail, but Sir John Bridge replied:

"It is not a case for bail."

Rev. Archibald Douglas, brother of the Marquis of Queensberry, has written a letter saying that the statement credited to Lord Douglas, of Hawick, eldest son of the Marquis, published in an interview in the Leader today, to the effect that every member of the family of the Marquis of Queensberry, except the latter, disbelieve absolutely and entirely all the charges made against Oscar Wilde, is unauthorized by his mother, his sister, or himself. Rev. Archibald Douglas adds:

"We certainly believe the charges made against Wilde."

The Sun, of this city, says that another sensational arrest is probable before Thursday next, the day when Oscar Wilde will be brought up at Bow Street Police Court on demand.

Week of Sensations In England.

LONDON, April 6.-Copyright, 1895, by the Associated Press.-With the Wilde-Queensberry and Russell vs. Russell cases in the courts here, the burning to death of a woman in Ireland under extraordinary circumstances by her husband and other relatives on the ground that she was bewitched, the shooting of a girl by her lover in the streets of London, and the man's subsequent suicide, one would have thought that the English press had enough to do in correcting its own morals this week. But these events have not disturbed the usual self-sufficient tendency to lecture the United States. The DaiLy News and other newspapers attribute the result of the Chicago election entirely to the work of Messrs. Stead and Burns.

Naturally the Wilde disclosures continue to be the absorbing topic of conversation at the clubs. The stand taken by the St. James Gazette in refusing to print the details of the case is attracting much attention and the paper has been deluged with letters of approval. The action of the St. James Gazette is likely to prove a good stroke of business for the proprietors of that publication. On Thursday last, the second day of the trial, in place of the usual news placards which all newsboys display, the placard of the St. James Gazette read:

The only paper in London with no details of the Wilde case.

Carson Was Wilde's Classmate.

Mr. Edward M. Carson, Q. C., M. P., who so ably and relentlessly conducted the case for the Marquis of Queensberry, was a classmate of Oscar Wilde at Trinity College, Dublin. The presiding judge, Justice Collins, also is an Irishman.

Wilde has been making immense sums of money lately out of his plays and books. His plays are now running at two London theaters, and many companies are producing them in the provinces. Of course in future no one will accept his plays.

Mr. George Alexander, proprietor and manager of the St. James Theater, said last night that if it were not for the fact that the withdrawal of Wilde's play, "The Importance of Being Earnest," would throw 120 persons out of employment he would at once stop it. Therefore, unless the theater-going public manifests its displeasure with the author by refusing to witness his works the play at the St. James will be continued as usual.

Another of Wilde's plays, which is now running at the Haymarket Theater, will after this week be transferred to the Criterion Theater. The author's name in both cases will be omitted from the bills and advertisements in future.

MRS. FRANK LESLIE IS HIS CHAMPION.

She Has a High Opinion of the Disgraced Oscar Wilde.

NEW YORK, April 6. -- Special Telegram. --

Mrs. Frank Leslie, once the wife of William Wilde, has known Oscar Wilde and his family fifteen years. When the libel suit began Mrs. Leslie predicted that Mr. Wilde would win his case.

"I suppose I am to be classed as a false prophet," Mrs. Leslie said today. "But I must judge Mr. Wilde only as I know him, that is, as a dignified, high-minded gentleman, a perfect son, a kind, considerate husband, and a doting, affectionate parent. I cannot imagine why he gave up the battle, when surrender meant a practical admission of guilt.

"Mr. Wilde likes to pose and likes to talk to a crowd. He talks as his characters do in his plays. His conversation bristles with epigrams and bright sayings. For instance, he once said that abuse is better than not to be noticed at all. Poor man, I fear that he is now realizing the falsity of this saying. One of the most charming phases of Mr. Wilde's character is his love and devotion to his mother, who is 75 years old. I fear the news of her son's distress will kill her. He leaves nothing undone to add to her comfort. When he called upon me last summer at my London house his eyes swelled with tears as he told of his mother's illness. This great, strong man spoke of her with pitiful tenderness.

"If Mr. Wilde is acquitted you may be sure he will return to his friends with open arms. Idle and groundless gossip is afloat about everybody in London."