sign of this gradual change was the publication in _Lippincott's
Magazine_ of "The Picture of Dorian Gray." It was attacked immediately
in _The Daily Chronicle_, a liberal paper usually distinguished for a
certain leaning in favour of artists and men of letters, as a "tale
spawned from the leprous literature of the French _decadents_--a
poisonous book, the atmosphere of which is heavy with the mephitic
odours of moral and spiritual putrefaction."
Oscar as a matter of course replied and the tone of his reply is
characteristic of his growth in self-assurance: he no longer dreads
the imputation of viciousness; he challenges it: "It is poisonous, if
you like; but you cannot deny that it is also perfect, and perfection
is what we artists aim at."
When Oscar republished "The Picture of Dorian Gray" in book form in
April, 1891, he sent me a large paper copy and with the copy he wrote
a little note, asking me to tell him what I thought of the book. I got
the volume and note early one morning and read the book until noon. I
then sent him a note by hand: "Other men," I wrote, "have given us
wine; some claret, some burgundy, some Moselle; you are the first to
give us pure champagne. Much of this book is wittier even than
Congreve and on an equal intellectual level: at length, it seems to
me, you have justified yourself."
Half an hour later I was told that Oscar Wilde had called. I went down
immediately to see him. He was bubbling over with content.
"How charming of you, Frank," he cried, "to have written me such a
divine letter."
"I have only read a hundred pages of the book," I said; "but they are
delightful: no one now can deny you a place among the wittiest and
most humorous writers in English."
"How wonderful of you, Frank; what do you like so much?"
Like all artists, he loved praise and I was enthusiastic, happy to
have the opportunity of making up for some earlier doubting that now
seemed unworthy:
"Whatever the envious may say, you're with Burke and Sheridan, among
the very ablest Irishmen....
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