The Irish World and American Industrial Liberator - Saturday, April 13, 1895
This report was originally published in English. Machine translations may be available in other languages.
Wilde as We Knew Him
His Visit to America as Aestheticism's Apostle.
Caricatured by Du Maurier and
Satirized by Gilbert—Stories of His Experiences While Here—His Quarrels With Critics.
Oscar Wilde, about whom so much is now being said, first achieved notoriety as a prostate 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 pursued 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 languor, the phrases Gilbert and thought to be satires. One of the songs of "Patience" which seemed to contain a more or less pointed allusion to Wilde ran:
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:—
New York Sun: Oscar Wilde 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 pursued 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 languor, the phrases that Gilbert had thought to be satires. One of the songs of "Patience" which seemed to contain a more or less pointed allusion to Wilde ran:
Oscar Wilde, an account of whose downfall is printed elsewhere this morning, first achieved notoriety as a prostrate apostle and then as the leader of the then infantile æsthetic-craze. He carried his æsthetic 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 pursued what was vaguely called æstheticism. 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 languor, the phrases Gilbert had 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 down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily
In your mediaeval hand;
And every one will say
As you walk your mystic
way,
"If he's content with a vegetable love that would certainly not suit me.
Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man
must be."
Then, a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashionShould 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 apostleIn the sentimental band;If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy on a lilyIn your medieval hand;And every one will sayAs you walk your mystic way,"If he’s content with a vegetable love that would certainly not suit me,Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man must be."
Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion Should excite your languid spleen: An attachment, à 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 down Picadilly with a poppy or a lily In your mediæval hand; And every one will say As you walk your mystic way, "If he's content with a vegetable love that would certainly not suit me. Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man must be."
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 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 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 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.
Up to that time, fifteen years ago, 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 lecturer, man of fashion, wit, poet, novelist, essayist, playwright has been made, in most particulars, in the last half dozen years, all since his lecturing tour in this country.
Up to that time, fifteen years ago, 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 lecturer, man of fashion, wit, poet, novelist, essayist, playwright has been made, in most particulars, in the last half dozen years, all since his lecturing tour in this country.
Up to that time, 15 years ago, 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 lecturer, man of fashion, wit, poet, novelist, essayist, playwright, has been made, in most particulars, in the last half dozen years, all since his lecturing tour in this country.
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.
He came here about twelve years ago, frankly advertised 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.
He came here about twelve years ago, frankly advertised as a freak lecturing on "æstheticism." 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.
He came to America about 12 years ago, frankly advertised 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. Here merely lisped, "How tenderly droll!" and went on with his lecture.
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 about the room strewn with the fallen
braves, and said to 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?"
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 Iong. As the sun was breaking into the club windows, Wilde looked about 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?"
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 about over a room strewn with fallen braves, and said to the one man still able to comprehend speech:
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 æsthete" as they expressed it. The process was long. As the sun was breaking into the club windows, Wilde looked about over a room strewn with fallen braves, and said to the one man still able to comprehend speech:
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:
But those who met him under normal conditions found Mr. Wilde a witty and engaging talker; unusually well informed on a wide range of literary and art subjects, and quite able to care for himself in any mnental encounter. The public at large, not knowing this of him, refused to accept him or his cult seriously, and Wilde returned to England richer only in experiences and a few hundred pounds. He had apologists, not of his class, for his "lilylike" eccentricities. In 1880 Edmund Yates wrote of him in the London World:
But those who met him under normal conditions found Mr. Wilde a witty and engaging talker; unusually well informed on a wide range of literature and art subjects, and quite able to care for himself in any mental encounter. The public at large, not knowing this of him, refused to accept him or his cult seriously, and Wilde returned to England richer only in experiences and a few hundred pounds. He had apologists, not of his class, for his "lily-like" eccentricities. In 1889 Edmund Yates wrote of him in The London World:
But those who met him under normal conditions found Mr. Wilde a witty and engaging talker; unusually well informed on a wide range of literary and art subjects, and quite able to care for himself in any mental encounter. The public at large, not knowing this of him, refused to accept him or his cult seriously, and Wilde returned to England richer only in experiences and a few hundred pounds. He had apologists, not of his class, for his "lily-like" eccentricities. In 1889 Edmund Yates wrote of him the London World:
But those who met him under normal conditions found Mr. Wilde a witty and engaging talker; unusually well informed on a wide range of literature and art subjects, and quite able to care for himself in any mental encounter. The public at large not knowing this of him refused to accept him or his cult seriously, and Wilde returned to England richer only in experience, and a few hundred pounds. He had apologists, not of his class for his "lily-like" eccentricities.
"He came out with a great splurge; his hair, his watch fob, his costume, and his walking stick started him well; the living up to the lily, and his disappointment with the Atlantic, and other quaint phrases carried him on for a bit; but he made somewhat of a failure in his lecturing tour in America, and has not been much heard of since his return, so that there was a general impression that though he had come out well, he had gone in again. But those who were well acquainted with him knew better, and had perfect reliance on his unquestioniable cleverness and his determination to make a mark. They felt that in these days, when every gate is thronged with suitors, a little charlatanism to call attention to one's self is not merely admissible, but is necessary; granted always that when the attention has been attracted there is something really worth seeing in the show. Mr. Wilde has justified these good opinions by working unobtrusively, indeed, but always well."
"He came out with a great splurge; his hair, his watch fob, his costume, and his walking stick started him well; the living up to the lily, and his disappointment with the Atlantic, and other quaint phrases carried him on for a bit; but he made somewhat of a failure in his lecturing tour in America, and has not been much heard of since his return, so that there was a general impression that though he had come out well, he had gone in again. But those who were well acquainted with him knew better, and had perfect reliance on his unquestionable cleverness and his determination to make a mark. They felt that in these days, when every gate is thronged with suitors, a little charlatanism to call attention to one's self is not merely admissible, but is necessary; granted always that when the attention has been attracted there is something really worth seeing in the show. Mr. Wilde has justified these good opinions by working unobtrusively, indeed, but always well."
"He came out with a great splurge: his hair, his watch fob, his costume and his walking stick started him well; the living up to the lily, and his disappointment with the Atlantic, and other quaint phrases carried him on for a bit; but he made something of a failure of his lecturing tour in America, and has not been much heard of since his return, so that there was a general impression that though he had come out well, he had gone in again. But those who were well acquainted with him knew better, and had perfect reliance on his unquestionable cleverness and his determination to make a mark. They felt that in these days, when every gate is thronged with suitors, a little charlatanism to call attention to one’s self is not merely admissible, but is necessary; granted always that when the attention has been attracted there is something really worth seeing in the show. Mr. Wilde has "justified these good opinions by working unobtrusively, indeed, but always well."
At that time Wilde had been married several years to Miss Constance Lloyd, and was living in Chelsea in a house decorated in "harmonies of green and blue," and furnished with quaint Old World pieces, but he was doing little or nothing to attract attention; even "Dorian Grey" had not then been much noticed. But he had "come out," and was destined to "stay out" in the sense that he was soon to be talked of again more than he ever had been, and in a more reputable manner. His art criticisms in the London papers, his essays on the drama and his poems began to attract more and more attention, and serve to revive interest in "Dorian Grey." He was criticised extensively, and although the morality of much that he wrote was questioned or condemned, the literary ability of his work was generally conceded. He adopted Whistler's plan of quarreling with his critics, and of "making phrases."
At that time Wilde had been married several years to Miss Constance Lloyd, and was living in Chelsea in a house decorated in "harmonies of green and blue," and furnished with quaint Old World pieces, but he was doing little or nothing to attract attention; even "Dorian Grey" had not then been much noticed. But he had "come out," and was destined to "stay out" in the sense that he was soon to be talked of again more than he ever had been, and in a more reputable manner. His art criticisms in the London papers, his essays on the drama, and his poems began to attract more and more attention, and served to revive interest in "Dorian Grey." He was criticised extensively, and although the morality of much that he wrote was questioned or condemned, the literary ability of his work was generally conceded. He adopted Whistler's plan of quarelling with his critics, and of "making phrases."
Then, about three years ago, his play, "Lady Windermere's Fan," was produced in London, and later here, and that at once made him one of the most talked about playwrights living. There was not much seriously objectionable in the sentiments expressed in this play; not to theatre-goers who had become accustomed to "Divorcon," and its kind, and this did not seem to satisfy Mr. Wilde, He wrote "Salome," wrote it in French and arranged with Sarah Bernhardt to produce it in London, but the Lord Chamberlain refused to authorize its production, or, to put it the familiar way, prohibited it, and Wilde threatened to go to France to live—which the Marquis of Queensberry expressed a longing for him to do—but he did not. He said of this prohibition and of Sarah Bernhardt's rehearsals:
Then, about three years ago his play, "Lady Windermere's Fan," was produced in London, and later here, and that at once made him one of the most talked about playwrights living. There was not much seriously objectionable in the sentiments expressed in this play; not to theatregoers who had become accustomed to "Divorçon," and its kind, and this did not seem to satisfy Mr. Wilde. He wrote "Salome," wrote it in French and arranged with Sarah Bernhardt to produce it in London, but the Lord Chamberlain refused to authorize its production, or, to put it the familiar way, prohibited it, and Wilde threatened to go to France to live - which the Marquis of Queensberry expressed a longing for him to do - but he did not. He said of this prohibition and of Sarah Bernhardt's rehearsals:
"Every rehearsal has been a source of intense pleasure to me. To hear my own vwords spoken by the most beautiful voice in the world has been the greatest artistic joy that it is possible to experience. So that, you see, as far as I am concerned, I care very little about the refusal of the Lord Chamberlain to allow my plays to be produced. What I do care about is this, that the censorship apparently reggards the stage as the lowest of all the arts, and looks on acting as a vulgar thing. The painter is allowed to take his subjects where he chooses. He can go to the great Hebrew and Hebrew-Greek literature of the Bible, and can paint Salome dancing, or Christ on the cross, or the Virgin with her child. Nobody interferes with the painter. Nobody says: 'Painting is such a vulgar art that you must not paint sacred things.' The sculptor is equally free. He can carve St. John the Baptist in his camel hair, and fashion the Madonna or Christ in bronze or in marble, as he wills. Yet nobody says to him: 'Sculpture is such a vulgar art that you must not carve sacred things.' And the writer—the poet—he also is quite free. I can write about any subject I choose. For me there is no censorship. I can take any incident I like out of sacred literature and treat it as I choose, and there is no one to say to the poet: 'Poetry is such a vulgar art that you must not use it in treating sacred subjects.' But there is a censorship over the stage and acting, and the basis of that censorship is that, while vulgar subjects may be put on the stage and acted, while everything that is mean and low and shameful in life can be portrayed by actors, no actor is to be permitted to present, under artistic conditions, the great and ennobling subjects taken from the Bible. The insult in the suppression of 'Salome' is an insult to the stage as a form of art, and not to me."
"Every rehearsal has been a source of intense pleasure to me. To hear my own words spoken by the most beautiful voice in the world has been the greatest artistic joy that it is possible to experience. So that you see, as far as I am concerned, I care very little about the refusal of Lord Chamberlain to allow my play to be produced. What I do care about is this, that the censorship apparently regards the stage as the lowest of all the arts, and looks on acting as a vulgar thing. The painter is allowed to take his subjects where he chooses. He can go to the great Hebrew and Hebrew-Greek literature of the Bible and can paint Salomé dancing, or Christ on the cross, or the Virgin with her child. Nobody interferes with the painter. Nobody says, 'Painting is such a vulgar art that you must not paint sacred things.' The sculptor is equally free. He can carve St. John the Baptist in his camel hair, and fashion the Madonna or Christ in bronze or in marble as he wills. Yet nobody says to him, 'Sculpture is such a vulgar art that you must not carve sacred things.' And the writer - the poet - he also is quite free. I can write about any subject I choose. For me there is no censorship. I can take any incident I like out of sacred literature and treat it as I choose and there is no one to say to the poet, 'Poetry is such a vulgar art that you must not use it in treating sacred subjects.' But there is a censorship over the stage and acting, and the basis of that censorship is that, while vulgar subjects may be put on the stage and acted, while everything that is mean and low and shameful in life can be portrayed by actors, no actor is to be permitted to present, under artistic conditions, the great and ennobling subjects taken from the Bible. The insult in the suppression of 'Salomé' is an insult to the stage as a form of art, and not to me."
A year and a half ago Mr. Wilde managed to contrive and have ventilated in the Pall Mall Budget a quarrel with T. P. O'Connor, in which he expressed his opinion of the "ordinary journalist" in a manner intended to increase the scope of the quarrel, but it did not. This is his first letter in the series published in the Budget:
A year and a half ago Mr. Wilde managed to contrive and have ventilated in the Pall Mall Budget a quarrel with T.P. O'Connor, in which he expressed his opinion of the "ordinary journalist" in a manner intended to increase the scope of the quarrel, but it did not. This is his first letter in the series published in the Budget:
"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 Weekly 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 plagiarizing the poem he had the vulgarity to attribute to
me.
"This seems to me to pass beyond even those bounds of coarse humor 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."
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 Weekly 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 scurillous 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 plagiarizing the poem he had the vulgarity to attribute to me. This seems to me to pass beyond even those bounds of coarse humor and coarse 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.
The reply to this was signed, "The Assistant Editor," which gave Mr. Wilde an opportunity to say this:
The reply to this was signed, "The Assistant Editor," which gave Mr. Wilde an opportunity to say this:
"Sir: The assistant editor of the Weekly Sun, on whom seems to devolve the arduous duty of writing Mr. T. P. O'Connor's apologies for him, does not, I observe with regret, place that gentleman's conduct in any more attractive or more honorable light by the attempted explanation that appears in the letter published in your issue of today. For the future it would be much better if Mr. O'Connor would always write his own apologies. That he can do so exceedingly well no one is more ready to admit than myself. I happen to possess one from him."
SIR: The assistant editor of the Weekly Sun on whom seems to devolve the arduous duty of writing Mr. T.P. O'Connor's apologies for him, does not, I observe in regret, place that gentleman's conduct in any more attractive or more honorable light by the attempted explanation that appears in the letter published in your issue of to-day. For the future it would be much better if Mr. O'Connor would always write his own apologies. That he can do so exceedingly well no one is more ready to admit than myself. I happen to possess one from him.
In spite of the harsh things which have been written lately about the moral quality of his later literary work, a recent London o critic wrote of him:
In spite of the harsh things which have been written lately about the moral quality of his later literary work, a recent London critic wrote of him:
"Mr. Oscar Wilde has a very wholesome influence upon contemporary thought, though there are people who think otherwise. It is not that he is original, or even absurd. He is never entirely either. But he sticks his pen into the somewhat torpid consciousness of the average Englishman, and digs up the clods of truth which have caked and hardened therein. He turns upside down the proverbial wisdom which most of us regard as eternal verity, and shows us that it looks as well one way as the other."
"Mr. Oscar Wilde has a very wholesome influence upon contemporary thought, though there are people who think otherwise. It is not that he is original, or even absurd. He is never entirely either. But he sticks his pen into the somewhat torpid consciousness of the average Englishman, and digs up the clods of truth which have caked and hardened therein. He turns upside down the proverbial wisdom which most of us regard as eternal verity, and shows us that it looks as well one way as the other."
"Oscar Wilde dropped all his eccentricities of dress when he left America, which he visited fifteen years ago. He also dropped the O'Flaherty from his name. The Oscar Wilde who returned to England was the conventional nineteenth century gentleman, quiet in dress and reserved in manner.
"You know, however, that he dropped all his eccentricities of dress when he left this country. He also dropped the O'Flaherty from his name. The Oscar Wilde who returned to England was the conventional nineteenth ceutury gentleman, quiet in dress and reserved in manner.
"The very first place in any history of the Wilde family, however, should be given to Oscar's mother. Half the good things Oscar Wilde says were first said by his mother. She was a Miss Elgie. She is a wonderful old woman, now in the seventies, but as bright and alert as she was thirty years ago. As a girl she achieved a great reputation as a poet, writing under the name of 'Speranza' for Ireland's liberty. Dr. Wilde, her husband, was knighted for services he had rendered to his country as an oculist. He possessed wonderful skill in this direction. It was owing to the success of an operation performed by him upon King Oscar of Sweden that that monarch acted as godfather to the little Oscar Wilde.
"In the first place in any history of the Wilde family, however, should be given to Oscar's mother. Half the good things Oscar Wilde says were first said by his mother. She was a Miss Elgie. She is a wonderful old woman, now in the seventies, but as bright and alert as she was thirty years ago. As a girl she achieved a great reputation as a poet, writing under the name of 'Speranza' for Ireland's liberty. Dr. Wilde, her husband, was knighted for services he had rendered to his country as an oculist. He possessed wonderful skill in this direction. It was owing to the success of an operation performed by him upon King Oscar of Sweden that that monarch acted as godfather to the little Oscar Wilde. The Wilde home during Oscar's childhood was in Merrion-square, Dublin. Its hospitality was famous. Oscar Wilde's wife is an Irishwoman, and was a Miss Constance Lloyd. She inherited a large sum of money on the death of her father, who had great shipping interests."
"The very first place in any history of the Wilde family, however, should be given to Oscar's mother. Half the good things Oscar Wilde says were first said by his mother. She was a Miss Elgie, and comes of a fine old Irish family. She is a wonderful old woman, now in the seventies, but as bright and alert as she was thirty years ago. As a girl she achieved a great reputation as a poet, writing under tile name of 'Speranza' for Ireland's liberty. The story goes that her spirited call to arms was attributed to an eminent public man, who was arrested on the charge.
"The very first place in any history of the Wilde family, however, should be given to Oscar's mother. Half the good things Oscar Wilde says were first said by his mother. She was a Miss Elgie, and comes of a fine old Irish family. She is a wonderful old woman, now in the sententies, but as bright and alert as she was 30 years ago. As a girl she achieved a great reputation as a poet, writing under the name of ‘Speranza’ for Ireland's liberty . The story goes that her spirited call to arms was attributed to an eminent public man, who was arrested on the charge.
The Wilde Home in Dublin.
"The Wilde home during Oscar's childhood was in Merrion Square, Dublin. It's hospitality was famous. Oscar Wilde's wife is an Irish woman, and was a Miss Constance Lloyd. She intherited a large sum of money on the death of her father, who had great shipping interests.
Wilde's Literary Work.
Swayed in Turn by Christian and Pagan Influences, but Still a True Poet.
Swayed in Turn by Christian and Pagan Influences, but Still a True Poet.
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 Ophtalmic and Aural Hospital of Dublin, who had a European reputation in his profession, who wielded an immense personal influence in Ireland through his magnetic qualities and wide information, and who was known to antiquaries and historians by his passionate devotion to the study of archaeology.
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.
Oscar Wilde comes of parentage distinguished, alike in social and intellecteual 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 Opthalmic and Aural Hospital, of Dublin; who had in European reputation in his profession, who wielded 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 archaeology.
Oscar Wilde (says another paper) 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 of the lifelong chief of staff of St. Mark's Ophthalmic and Aural Hospital of Dublin, who had a European reputation in his profession, who wielded an immense personal influence in Ireland through his magnetic qualities and wide information, and who was known to antiquaries and historians by his passionate devotion to the study of archaeology.
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 skill and of his arduous and successful labors in producing the first elaborate and reliable census of his native land.
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 recognised as scholarly contributions to the early history of Ireland. He was knighted, in 1853 in recognition both of his professional skill and of his arduous and successful labors in producing the first elaborate and reliable census of his native land.
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 1858 in recognition both of his professional skill and of his arduous and successful labours in producing the first elaborate and reliable census of his native land.
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 still alive, at the age of 77, is perhaps the most famous woman poet of Ireland. Her patriotic poems and lyrics, produced under the pseudonym of "Speranza," endeared her to the hearts of her countrymen. One especially, "The Famine in 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.
Oscar Wilde's mother, who is still alive, at the age of 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 hearts of her countrymen. One especially, "The Famine in Ireland," is still remembered, and may be found in almost any anthology of poetry. It is a grim and masterly description of the dissolution produced by the famine of 1849.
Oscar Wilde'a mother, who is still alive, at the age of seventy-seven, is perhaps the most famous woman poet of Ireland. Her patriotic poems and lyrics, produced under the pseudonym of "Speranza, endeared her to the hearts of her countrymen. One especially, "The Famine In 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.
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.
In Dublin she built up the literary salon which existed there. Her receptions were always crowded by literary and political celebrities, and especially by those who had the cause of young Ireland at heart.
In Dublin she built up the literary salon which existed there. Her receptions were always crowded by literary and political celebrities, and especially by those who had the cause of young Ireland at heart.
In Dublin she built up the literary salon which existed there. Her receptions were always crowded by literary and political celebrities, and especially by those who had the cause of young Ireland at heart.
Her Career in London.
More recently she removed to London, and still continued to cultivate the society of the most eminent men and women of the time. Her cozy drawing room, whose curtains are always closely drawn, is softly lighted with crimson silken shaded lamps. The hostess, tall and dignified, and richly dressed, moves among her guests with a dignified and gracious manner, conversing easily and intelligently on the leading topics of the day in a sympathetic voice that reveals her warm Irish nature.
More recently she removed to London, and still continued to cultivate the society of the most eminent men and women of the time. Her cosy drawing-room, whose curtains are always closely drawn, is softly lighted with crimson silken shaded lamps. The hostess, tall and dignified, and richly dressed, moves among her guests with a dignified and gracious manner, conversing easily and intelligently on the leading topics of the day in a sympathetic voice that reveals her warm Irish nature.
Thus, the boy; who was born on Oct. 16, 1856, was brought up in an atmosphere of enthusiasm and agitation. He was constantly with his father and mother, always among grown persons, and before he was in his teens had heard every creed advocated and attacked at his father's dinner table. His early education was conducted at home, where he was given the finest of all educators—the best literature of the day. He traveled much, both in France and Germany, and imbibed a love for Heine and for Goethe.
Thus, the boy who was born on October 16, 1856, was brought up in an atmosphere of enthusiasm "and agitation. He was constantly with his father and mother, always among grown persons, and before he was in his teens had heard every creed advocated and attacked at his father's dinner table. His early education was conducted at home, where he was given the finest of all educators, the best literature of the day. He travelled much, both in France and Germany, and imbibed a love for Heine and for Goethe, but more especially for the French poets, romancers and novelists, whose influence, not always for the best, remains with him to this day.
Training at Oxford.
Before going to Oxford he spent a year in Dublin University, where he captured a scholarship and the gold medal for Greek. Then, in 1874, he matriculated at Magdalen College, Oxford, and in the four years he was there took two scholarships and won the guerdon most coveted by ambitious students, the Newdigate prize for poetry. His subject was "Ravenna."
Before going to Oxford he spent a year in Dublin University, where he captured scholarship and the gold medal for Greek. Then, in 1874, he matriculated at Magdalen College, Oxford, and in the four years he was there took two scholarships and won the guerdon most coveted by ambitious students, the Newdigate prize for poetry. His subject was "Ravenna."
It was at Oxford that he became a passionate disciple of Ruskin, who lectured there on Florentine art. Ruskin was not content with mere lecturing. Four days in every week he devoted himself to teaching the flower of British youth how to devote its strength to the practical art of hewing stones for the highways. Young Wilde was even then a Sybarite, careful of his comfort and fond of luxury. Yet, under the influence of the master, he would cheerfully rise at early dawn to earn the glory of filling Ruskin's own special wheelbarrow with stones broken by his own right arm.
It was at Oxford that he became a passionate disciple of Ruskin, who lectured there on Florentine art. Ruskin was not content with mere lecturing. Four days in every week he devoted himself to teaching the flower of British youth how to devote its strength to the practical art of hewing stones for the highwares. Young Wilde was even then a Sybarite, careful of his comfort and fond of luxury. Yet under the influence of the master he would cheerfully rise at early dawn to earn the glory of filling Ruskin's own special wheelbarrow with stones broken by his own right arm.
His rooms were gorgeously decorated with treasures of art and virtu, from Burne Jones' pictures to Damascus tiles, and the famous blue china, which was always a part of his cult in his vacation.
His rooms were gorgeously decorated with treasures of art and virtu, from Burne Jones' pictures to Damascus tiles, and the famous blue china which was always a part of his cult in his vacation.
He followed Rusklin to Italy. Wilde came back to England, in aesthetic feeling, at least, a Catholic.
It was then that he produced his first poems, many of which were published in Catholic periodicals. One of these, on "Rome Unvisited," attracted the attention of Cardinal Newman. A lecture by the other great Catholic, Cardinal Manning, on "Catholic Oxford," which Wilde attended at this period of transition, almost induced him to follow many of his friends into open adherence to Rome. But now a new influence stepped into his life.
It was then that he produced his first poems, which show the influence of this new cult, and many of which were published in Catholic periodicals. One of these, on "Rome Unvisited," attracted the attention of Cardinal Newman. A lecture by the other great Catholic, Cardinal Manning, on Catholic Oxford, which Wilde attended at this period of transition, almost induced him to follow many of his friends into open adherence to Rome. But now a new influence stepped into his life.
Prof. J. P. Mahaffey, the Greek scholar, had been strongly attracted by the ardent young poet. He took Oscar to Greece. He inspired him with his own love for Hellenic life, literature and art.
Professor J. P. Muhaffey, the Greek scholar, had been strongly attracted by the ardent young poet. He took Oscar to Greece, he inspired him with his own love for Hellenic life, literature and art.
Paganism triumphed over Christian Catholocism. Young Wilde returned to Oxford a confirmed classicist. Poetry was still the medium through which he expressed his new cult. In 1878 he took his degree. Then he went to live in London.
Paganism triumphed over Christian Catholicism. Young Wilde returned to Oxford a confirmed classicist. Poetry was still the medium through which he expressed his new cult. In 1878 he took his degree. Then be went to live in London.
As a Poet.
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 Tennysonian, and his "Garden of Eros," though too Swinburnian; his neo-Catholic poems, gathered under the general head of "Rosa Mystica," had the ring.
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 Tennysonian, and his "Garden of Eros," though too Swinburnian," his neo-Catholic poems, gathered under tbe general head of ''Rosa Mystica," had the right ring. They announced that a true poet had been born.
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 sad, vain longing and regret. Here it is in entire. It casts a curious light upon a curious personality:
But the most sincere and genuine of all was the Introductory sonnet, full of sad, vain longing and regret. Here it is entire. It casts a curious light upon a curious personality:-
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 did
but touch the honey of romance—
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?
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 did but touch the honey of romance - And must I lose a soul’s inheritance?
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?
HELAS! To drift with every passion till my soul Is a stringed lute, on which all winds can play, Is it for tills 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 not but mar the secret of 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 did but touch the honey of romance- And must I lose a soul's inheritance?
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 we can, without offence, do him such justice, at least, as he deservd. 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 shams had so much in it that was itself, a sham, and worse.
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 we can, without offence, do him such justice, at least, as he deserved. 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 shams had so much in it that was itself a sham, and worse.
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.
We live in times of change, alarm, surprise. Old traditions and old conventions are being assailed on all sides. Time alone will tell how much of the old will be left after the new upheaval has subsided. In the armies of light and leading sharpshooters, armed with the weapons of wit and sarcasm, they have their uses. But they must be sure of the purity of their ammunition, or they will be doubly damned. Their very colleagues must condemn them more fiercely even than their enemies.
We live in times of change, alarm, surprise. Old traditions and old conventions are being assailed on all sides. Time alone will tell how much of the old will be left after the new upheaval has subsided. In the armies of light and leading sharpshooters, armed with the weapons of wit and sarcasm, they have their uses. But they must be sure of the purity of their ammunition, or tbey will be doubly damned. Their very colleagues must condemn themmore fiercely than their enemies.
In the fall of Oscar Wilde art and literature have innocently suffered. But better no art and no literature than the acceptance of Wilde.
In the fall of Oscar Wilde art and literature have innocently suffered. But better no art and no literature than the acceptance of Wilde.
In the fall of Oscar Wilde art and literature have innocently suffered. But better no art and no literature than the acceptance of Wilde.