"We lose our chances," he said, laughing, "we lose our figures, we
even lose our characters; but we must never lose our temper. That is
our duty to our neighbour, Frank; but sometimes we mislay it, don't
we?"
"Is that going in a book, Oscar?" I asked, smiling, "or in an article?
You have written nothing lately."
"I have a play in my mind," he replied gravely. "To-morrow I am going
to shut myself up in my room, and stay there until it is written.
George Alexander has been bothering me to write a play for some time
and I've got an idea I rather like. I wonder can I do it in a week, or
will it take three? It ought not to take long to beat the Pineros and
the Joneses." It always annoyed Oscar when any other name but his came
into men's mouths: his vanity was extraordinarily alert.
Naturally enough he minimised Mr. Alexander's initiative. The
well-known actor had "bothered" Oscar by advancing him L100 before the
scenario was even outlined. A couple of months later he told me that
Alexander had accepted his comedy, and was going to produce "Lady
Windermere's Fan." I thought the title excellent.
"Territorial names," Oscar explained, gravely, "have always a _cachet_
of distinction: they fall on the ear full toned with secular dignity.
That's how I get all the names of my personages, Frank. I take up a
map of the English counties, and there they are. Our English villages
have often exquisitely beautiful names. Windermere, for instance, or
Hunstanton," and he rolled the syllables over his tongue with a soft
sensual pleasure.
I had a box the first night and, thinking it might do Oscar some good,
I took with me Arthur Walter of _The Times_. The first scene of the
first act was as old as the hills, but the treatment gave charm to it
if not freshness. The delightful, unexpected humour set off the
commonplace incident; but it was only the convention that Arthur
Walter would see. The play was poor, he thought, which brought me to
wonder.
After the first act I went downstairs to the _foyer_ and found the
|