The Advertiser - Thursday, May 23, 1895
This report was originally published in English. Machine translations may be available in other languages.
ENGLISH LITERARY GOSSIP.
[From our Special Correspondent.]
London, April 19, 1895.
All Oscar Wilde's books have been withdrawn from circulation, and are already worth well-nigh their weight in silver as "curios." Copies of "Dorian Gray" in its original magazine form in Lippincott's easily fetch £3 to £5 apiece, and should be most carefully preserved. Of course I refer to unexpurgated issue, and not to the revised version which till a fortnight ago Ward Lock published. The value of the Chameleon, the objectionable periodical produced by the Oscarian clique, and strangled by its publishers ere 50 numbers had been sold, is probably £25. I know indeed this sum was recently refused for one by Messrs. Gay and Bird, who have the balance of the issue locked away in the recesses of their private safe. Apart from the single story of "The Priest and the Acolyte," the Chameleon was the usually wishy-washy "æstheria," and indistinguishable from other short-lived periodicals of its school. The fact that Mr. Oscar Wilde latterly derived his mental pabulum chiefly from the Yellow Book, and tucked a copy under his arm when removed to "durance vile," will not I fear increase that edifying quarterly in popular estimation. If. Mr. Lane is wise he will suppress it without delay. The vogue for that unwholesome class of literature has received its death-blow. "The Philistine" wounded the morbid sex-maniac sorely, and Oscar has given him his coup de grace. Art with a big A has, like Humpty-Dumpty, had a great fall, and never again can the misbegotten fetish exercise the influence it did over us. In the words of Arthur Roberts, "Culchah, dear boys, is a bit off." That Wilde was not unconscious of the descent to Avernus down which his unbridled and morbid passions were surely leading him the "Portrait of Dorian Gray" shows us. Therein he boldly drew himself and forecast his terrible degradation.
All Oscar Wilde's books have been withdrawn from circulation, and are already worth well-nigh their weight in silver as "curios." Copies of "Dorian Gray" in its original magazine form in Lippincott's easily fetch £3 to £5 apiece, and should be most carefully preserved. Of course I refer to unexpurgated issue, and not to the revised version which till a fortnight ago Ward Lock published. The value of the Chameleon, the objectionable periodical produced by the Oscarian clique, and strangled by its publishers ere 50 numbers had been sold, is probably £25. I know indeed this sum was recently refused for one by Messrs. Gay and Bird, who have the balance of the issue locked away in the recesses of their private safe. Apart from the single story of "The Priest and the Acolyte," the Chameleon was the usually wishy-washy "æstheria," and indistinguishable from other short-lived periodicals of its school. The fact that Mr. Oscar Wilde latterly derived his mental pabulum chiefly from the Yellow Book, and tucked a copy under his arm when removed to "durance vile," will not I fear increase that edifying quarterly in popular estimation. If Mr. Lane is wise he will suppress it without delay. The vogue for that unwholesome class of literature has received its death-blow. "The Philistine" wounded the morbid sex-maniac sorely, and Oscar has given him his coup de grace. Art with a big A has, like Humpty-Dumpty, had a great fall, and never again can the misbegotten fetish exercise the influence it did over us. In the words of Arthur Roberts, "Culchah, dear boys, is a bit off." That Wilde was not unconscious of the descent to Avernus down which his unbridled and morbid passions were surely leading him the "Portrait of Dorian Gray" shows us. Therein he boldly drew himself and forecast his terrible degradation.
A LONDON Press correspondent writes: - All Oscar Wilde's books have been withdrawn from circulation, and are already worth well nigh their weight in silver as "curios." Copies of "Dorian Gray" in its original magazine form in Lippincott's easily fetch £3 to £5 apiece, and should be most carefully preserved. Of course I refer to the unexpurgated issue, and not to the revised version which till a fortnight ago Ward Lock published. The value of the Chameleon, the objectionable periodical produced by the Oscarian clique, and strangled by its publishers ere 50 numbers had been sold, is probably £25. I know indeed this sum was recently refused for one by Messrs. Gay and Bird, who have the balance of the issue locked away in the recesses of their private safe. Apart from the single story of "The Priest and the Acolyte," the Chameleon was the usual wishy washy "æstheria," and indistinguishable from other short lived periodicals of its school. The fact that Mr. Oscar Wilde latterly derived his mental pabulum chiefly from the Yellow Book, and tucked a copy under his arm when removed to "durance vile," will not I fear increase that edifying quarterly in popular estimation. If Mr. Lane is wise he will suppress it without delay. The vogue for that unwholesome class of literature has received its deathblow. "The Philistine" wounded the morbid sex maniac sorely, and Oscar has given him his coup de grace. Art with a big A has, like Humpty-Dumpty, had a great fall, and never again can the misbegotten fetish exercise the influence it did over us. In the words of Arthur Roberts, "Culchah, dear boys, is a bit off." That Wilde was not unconscious of the descent to Avernus down which his unbridled and morbid passions were surely leading him the "Portrait of Dorian Gray" shows us. Therein he boldly drew himself and forecast his terrible degradation.
Mr. Ernest Parke, the manager of the Star, smiles, I should imagine somewhat cynically, over the virtuous indignation of the public in the Wilde case. For trying to expose members of this very clique Mr. Parke got twelve months' imprisonment. You see, instead of having rich men on his side to shepherd his witnesses and help him to get up his case, he had rich men to fight against.
Mr. Ernest Parke, the manager of the Star, smiles, I should imagine somewhat cynically, over the virtuous indignation of the public in the Wilde case. For trying to expose members of this very clique Mr. Parke got twelve months' imprisonment. You see, instead of having rich men on his side to shepherd his witnesses and help him to get up his case, he had rich men to fight against.
"Mr Ernest Parke, the manager of the Star, smiles, I should imagine somewhat cynically over the virtuous indignation of the public in the Wilde case. For trying to expose members of this very clique, Mr Parke got twelve months' imprisonment. You see, instead of having rich men on his side to shepherd his witnesses and help him to get up his 3 case, he had rich men to fight against. And, of course, a big blunder was made in introducing Lord Euston's name."