Frank Harris - Oscar Wilde, Volume 2 (of 2)

F >> Frank Harris >> Oscar Wilde, Volume 2 (of 2)

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Gesling was most intelligent and promised to call at the Hotel d'Alsace
at 8 o'clock next morning. While Reggie stayed at the hotel interviewing
journalists and clamorous creditors, I started with Gesling to see
officials. We did not part till 1.30, so you can imagine the formalities
and oaths and exclamations and signing of papers. Dying in Paris is
really a very difficult and expensive luxury for a foreigner.

It was in the afternoon the District Doctor called and asked if Oscar
had committed suicide or was murdered. He would not look at the signed
certificates of Kleiss and Tucker. Gesling had warned me the previous
evening that owing to the assumed name and Oscar's identity, the
authorities might insist on his body being taken to the Morgue. Of
course I was appalled at the prospect, it really seemed the final touch
of horror. After examining the body, and, indeed, everybody in the
hotel, and after a series of drinks and unseasonable jests, and a
liberal fee, the District Doctor consented to sign the permission for
burial. Then arrived some other revolting official; he asked how many
collars Oscar had, and the value of his umbrella. (This is quite true,
and not a mere exaggeration of mine.) Then various poets and literary
people called, Raymond de la Tailhade, Tardieu, Charles Sibleigh, Jehan
Rictus, Robert d'Humieres, George Sinclair, and various English people,
who gave assumed names, together with two veiled women. They were all
allowed to see the body when they signed their names....

I am glad to say dear Oscar looked calm and dignified, just as he did
when he came out of prison, and there was nothing at all horrible about
the body after it had been washed. Around his neck was the blessed
rosary which you gave me, and on the breast a Franciscan medal given me
by one of the nuns, a few flowers placed there by myself and an
anonymous friend who had brought some on behalf of the children, though
I do not suppose the children know that their father is dead. Of course
there was the usual crucifix, candles and holy water.

Gesling had advised me to have the remains placed in the coffin at once,
as decomposition would begin very rapidly, and at 8.30 in the evening
the men came to screw it down. An unsuccessful photograph of Oscar was
taken by Maurice Gilbert at my request, the flashlight did not work
properly. Henri Davray came just before they had put on the lid. He was
very kind and nice. On Sunday, the next day, Alfred Douglas arrived, and
various people whom I do not know called. I expect most of them were
journalists. On Monday morning at 9 o'clock, the funeral started from
the hotel--we all walked to the Church of St. Germain des Pres behind
the hearse--Alfred Douglas, Reggie Turner and myself, Dupoirier, the
proprietor of the hotel, Henri the nurse, and Jules, the servant of the
hotel, Dr. Hennion and Maurice Gilbert, together with two strangers whom
I did not know. After a low mass, said by one of the vicaires at the
altar behind the sanctuary, part of the burial office was read by Father
Cuthbert. The Suisse told me that there were fifty-six people
present--there were five ladies in deep mourning--I had ordered three
coaches only, as I had sent out no official notices, being anxious to
keep the funeral quiet. The first coach contained Father Cuthbert and
the acolyte; the second Alfred Douglas, Turner, the proprietor of the
hotel, and myself; the third contained Madame Stuart Merrill, Paul Fort,
Henri Davray and Sar Luis; a cab followed containing strangers unknown
to me. The drive took one hour and a half; the grave is at Bagneux, in a
temporary concession hired in my name--when I am able I shall purchase
ground elsewhere at Pere la Chaise for choice. I have not yet decided
what to do, or the nature of the monument. There were altogether
twenty-four wreaths of flowers; some were sent anonymously. The
proprietor of the hotel supplied a pathetic bead trophy, inscribed, "A
mon locataire," and there was another of the same kind from "The service
de l'Hotel," the remaining twenty-two were, of course, of real flowers.
Wreaths came from, or at the request of, the following: Alfred Douglas,
More Adey, Reginald Turner, Miss Schuster, Arthur Clifton, the Mercure
de France, Louis Wilkinson, Harold Mellor, Mr. and Mrs. Texiera de
Mattos, Maurice Gilbert, and Dr. Tucker. At the head of the coffin I
placed a wreath of laurels inscribed, "A tribute to his literary
achievements and distinction." I tied inside the wreath the following
names of those who had shown kindness to him during or after his
imprisonment, "Arthur Humphreys, Max Beerbohm, Arthur Clifton, Ricketts,
Shannon, Conder, Rothenstein, Dal Young, Mrs. Leverson, More Adey,
Alfred Douglas, Reginald Turner, Frank Harris, Louis Wilkinson, Mellor,
Miss Schuster, Rowland Strong," and by special request a friend who
wished to be known as "C.B."

I can scarcely speak in moderation of the magnanimity, humanity and
charity of John Dupoirier, the proprietor of the Hotel d'Alsace. Just
before I left Paris Oscar told me he owed him over L190. From the day
Oscar was laid up he never said anything about it. He never mentioned
the subject to me until after Oscar's death, and then I started the
subject. He was present at Oscar's operation, and attended to him
personally every morning. He paid himself for luxuries and necessities
ordered by the doctor or by Oscar out of his own pocket. I hope that
---- or ---- will at any rate pay him the money still owing. Dr. Tucker
is also owed a large sum of money. He was most kind and attentive,
although I think he entirely misunderstood Oscar's case.

Reggie Turner had the worst time of all in many ways--he experienced all
the horrible uncertainty and the appalling responsibility of which he
did not know the extent. It will always be a source of satisfaction to
those who were fond of Oscar, that he had someone like Reggie near him
during his last days while he was articulate and sensible of kindness
and attention....

ROBERT ROSS.

CRITICISMS

BY ROBERT ROSS

Vol. I. Page 80 Line 3. I demur very much to your statement in this
paragraph. Wilde was too much of a student of Greek to have learned
anything about controversy from Whistler. No doubt Whistler was more
nimble and more naturally gifted with the power of repartee, but when
Wilde indulged in controversy with his critics, whether he got the best
of it or not, he never borrowed the Whistlerian method. Cf. his
controversy with Henley over Dorian Gray.

Then whatever you may think of Ruskin, Wilde learnt a great deal about
the History and Philosophy of Art from him. He learned more from Pater
and he was the friend and intimate of Burne-Jones long before he knew
Whistler. I quite agree with your remark that he had "no joy in
conflict" and no doubt he had little or no knowledge of the technique of
Art in the modern expert's sense.

[There never was a greater master of controversy than Whistler, and I
believe Wilde borrowed his method of making fun of the adversary. Robert
Ross's second point is rather controversial. Shaw agrees with me that
Wilde never knew anything really of music or of painting and neither the
history nor the so-called philosophy of art makes one a connoisseur of
contemporary masters. F.H.]

Page 94. Last line. For "happy candle" read "Happy Lamp." It was at the
period when oil lamps were put in the middle of the dinner table just
before the general introduction of electric light; by putting "candle"
you lose the period. Cf. Du Maurier's pictures of dinner parties in
_Punch_.

Page 115. I venture to think that you should state that Wilde at the end
of his story of 'Mr. W.H.' definitely says that the theory is all
nonsense. It always appeared to me a semi-satire of Shakespearean
commentary. I remember Wilde saying to me after it was published that
his next Shakespearean book would be a discussion as to whether the
commentators on Hamlet were mad or only pretending to be. I think you
take Wilde's phantasy too seriously but I am not disputing whether you
are right or wrong in your opinion of it; but it strikes me as a little
solemn when on Page 116 you say that the 'whole theory is completely
mistaken'; but you are quite right when you say that it did Wilde a
great deal of harm. [Ross does not seem to realise that if the theory
were merely fantastic the public might be excused for condemning Oscar
for playing with such a subject. As a matter of fact I remember Oscar
defending the theory to me years later with all earnestness: that's why
I stated my opinion of it. F.H.]

Page 142 Line 19. What Wilde said in front of the curtain was: "I have
enjoyed this evening immensely."

[I seem to remember that Wilde said this; my note was written after a
dinner a day or two later when Oscar acted the whole scene over again
and probably elaborated his effect. I give the elaboration as most
characteristic. F.H.]

Vol. II. Page 357 Line 3. Major Nelson was the name of the Governor at
Reading prison. He was one of the most charming men I ever came across.
I think he was a little hurt by the "Ballad of Reading Gaol," which he
fancied rather reflected on him though Major Isaacson was the Governor
at the time the soldier was executed. Isaacson was a perfect monster.
Wilde sent Nelson copies of his books, "The Ideal Husband" and "The
Importance of Being Earnest," which were published as you remember after
the release, and Nelson acknowledged them in a most delightful way. He
is dead now.

[Major Isaacson was the governor who boasted to me that he was knocking
the nonsense out of Wilde; he seemed to me almost inhuman. My report got
him relieved and Nelson appointed in his stead. Nelson was an ideal
governor. F.H.]

Page 387. In the First Edition of the "Ballad of Reading Gaol" issued by
Methuen I have given the original draft of the poem which was in my
hands in September 1897, long before Wilde rejoined Douglas. I will send
you a copy of it if you like, but it is much more likely to reach you if
you order it through Putnam's in New York as they are Methuen's agents.
I would like you to see it because it fortifies your opinion about
Douglas' ridiculous contention; though I could explode the whole thing
by Wilde's letters to myself from Berneval. Certain verses were indeed
added at Naples. I do not know what you will think, but to me they prove
the mental decline due to the atmosphere and life that Wilde was leading
at the time. Let us be just and say that perhaps Douglas assisted more
than he was conscious of in their composition. To me they are terribly
poor stuff, but then, unlike yourself, I am a heretic about the Ballad.

Page 411. In fairness to Gide: Gide is describing Wilde after he had
come back from Naples in the year 1898, not in 1897, when he had just
come out of prison.

Appendix Page 438 Line 20. Forgive me if I say it, but I think your
method of sneering at Curzon unworthy of Frank Harris. Sneer by all
means; but not in that particular way.

[Robert Ross is mistaken here: no sneer was intended. I added Curzon's
title to avoid giving myself the air of an intimate. F.H.]

Page 488 Line 17. You really are wrong about Mellor's admiration for
Wilde. He liked his society but loathed his writing. I was quite angry
in 1900 when Mellor came to see me at Mentone (after Wilde's death, of
course), when he said he could never see any merit whatever in Wilde's
plays or books. However the point is a small one.

Page 490 Line 6. The only thing I can claim to have invented in
connection with Wilde were the two titles "De Profundis" and "The
Ballad of Reading Gaol," for which let me say I can produce documentary
evidence. The publication of "De Profundis" was delayed for a month in
1905 because I could not decide on what to call it. It happened to catch
on but I do not think it a very good title.

Page 555 Line 18. Do you happen to have compared Douglas' translation of
Salome in Lane's First edition (with Beardsley's illustrations) with
Lane's Second edition (with Beardsley's illustrations) or Lane's little
editions (without Beardsley's illustrations)? Or have you ever compared
the aforesaid First edition with the original? Douglas' translation
omits a great deal of the text and is actually wrong as a rendering of
the text in many cases. I have had this out with a good many people. I
believe Douglas is to this day sublimely unconscious that his text, of
which there were never more than 500 copies issued in England, has been
entirely scrapped; his name at my instance was removed from the current
issues for the very good reason that the new translation is not his. But
this is merely an observation not a correction.

[I talked this matter over with Douglas more than once. He did not know
French well; but he could understand it and he was a rarely good
translator as his version of a Baudelaire sonnet shows. In any dispute
as to the value of a word or phrase I should prefer his opinion to
Oscar's. But Ross is doubtless right on this point. F.H.]

Appendix Page 587. Your memory is at fault here. The charge against
Horatio Lloyd was of a normal kind. It was for exposing himself to
nursemaids in the gardens of the Temple.

[I have corrected this as indeed I have always used Ross's corrections
on matters of fact. F.H.]

Page 596 Line 13. I think there ought to be a capital "E" in exhibition
to emphasise that it is the 1900 Exhibition in Paris.

THE SOUL OF MAN UNDER SOCIALISM

When I was editing "The Fortnightly Review," Oscar Wilde wrote for me
"The Soul of Man Under Socialism." On reading it then it seemed to me
that he knew very little about Socialism and I disliked his airy way of
dealing with a religion he hadn't taken the trouble to fathom. The essay
now appears to me in a somewhat different light. Oscar had no deep
understanding of Socialism, it is true, much less of the fact that in a
healthy body corporate socialism or co-operation would govern all public
utilities and public services while the individual would be left in
possession of all such industries as his activity can control.

But Oscar's genius was such that as soon as he had stated one side of
the problem he felt that the other side had to be considered and so we
get from him if not the ideal of an ordered state at least _apercus_ of
astounding truth and value.

For example he writes: "Socialism ... by converting private property
into public wealth, and substituting co-operation for competition, will
restore society to its proper condition of a thoroughly healthy
organism, and insure the material well-being of each member of the
community."

Then comes the return on himself: "But for the full development of Life
... something more is needed. What is needed is Individualism."

And the ideal is always implicit: "Private property has led
Individualism entirely astray. It has made gain not growth its aim."

Humor too is never far away: "Only one class thinks more about money
than the rich and that is the poor."

His short stay in the United States also benefited him.... "Democracy
means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.
It has been found out."

Taken all in all a provocative delightful essay which like _Salome_ in
the aesthetic field marks the end of his _Lehrjahre_ and the beginning of
his work as a master.

A LAST WORD

In the couple of years that have elapsed since the first edition of this
book was published, I have received many letters from readers asking for
information about Wilde which I have omitted to give. I have been
threatened with prosecution and must not speak plainly; but something
may be said in answer to those who contend that Oscar might have brought
forward weightier arguments in his defence than are to be found in
Chapter XXIV. As a matter of fact I have made him more persuasive than
he was. When Oscar declared (as recorded on page 496) that his weakness
was "consistent with the highest ideal of humanity if not a
characteristic of it," I asked him: "would he make the same defence for
the Lesbians?" He turned aside showing the utmost disgust in face and
words, thus in my opinion giving his whole case away.

He could have made a better defence. He might have said that as we often
eat or drink or smoke for pleasure, so we may indulge in other
sensualities. If he had argued that his sin was comparatively venial and
so personal-peculiar that it carried with it no temptation to the normal
man, I should not have disputed his point.

Moreover, love at its highest is independent of sex and sensuality.
Since Luther we have been living in a centrifugal movement, in a wild
individualism where all ties of love and affection have been loosened,
and now that the centripetal movement has come into power we shall find
that in another fifty years or so friendship and love will win again to
honor and affinities of all sorts will proclaim themselves without shame
and without fear. In this sense Oscar might have regarded himself as a
forerunner and not as a survival or "sport." And it may well be that
some instinctive feeling of this sort was at the back of his mind though
too vague to be formulated in words. For even in our dispute (see Page
500) he pleaded that the world was becoming more tolerant, which, one
hopes, is true. To become more tolerant of the faults of others is the
first lesson in the religion of Humanity.

_The End._

_A letter from Lord Alfred Douglas to Oscar Wilde that I reproduce here
speaks for itself and settles once for all, I imagine, the question of
their relations. Had Lord Alfred Douglas not denied the truth and posed
as Oscar Wilde's patron, I should never have published this letter
though it was given to me to establish the truth. This letter was
written between Oscar's first and second trial; ten days later Oscar
Wilde was sentenced to two years imprisonment with hard labor._

_FRANK HARRIS._

HOTEL DES DEUX MONDES
22, Avenue de l'Opera, 22
PARIS
Wednesday, May 15, 1895.

My darling Oscar:

Have just arrived here.

It seems too dreadful to be here without you, but I hope you will join
me next week. Dieppe was too awful for anything; it is the most
depressing place in the world, even Petits Chevaux was not to be had as
the Casino was closed. They are very nice here, and I can stay as long
as I like without paying my bill which is a good thing, as I am quite
penniless.

The proprietor is very nice and most sympathetic; he asked after you at
once and expressed his regret and indignation at the treatment you had
received. I shall have to send this by a cab to the Gare du Nord to
catch the post as I want you to get it first post to-morrow.

I am going to see if I can find Robert Sherard to-morrow if he is in
Paris.

Charlie is with me and sends you his best love.

I had a long letter from More (Adey) this morning about you. Do keep up
your spirits, my dearest darling. I continue to think of you day and
night and I send you all my love.

I am always your own loving and devoted boy.

BOSIE.

_This letter now published for the first time is the most characteristic
I received from Oscar Wilde in the years after his imprisonment. It
dates I think from the winter of 1897, say some eight months after his
release. F.H._

HOTEL DE NICE
Rue des Beaux Arts
PARIS

My dear Frank:

I cannot express to you how deeply touched I am by your letter--it is
_une vraie poignee de main_. I simply long to see you and to come again
in contact with your strong sane wonderful personality.

I cannot understand about the poem (The Ballad of Reading Gaol) my
publisher tells me that, as I had begged him to do, he sent the two
_first_ copies to the "Saturday" and the "Chronicle"--and he also tells
me that Arthur Symons told him he had written especially to you to ask
you to allow him to do a _signed_ article.

I suppose publishers are untrustworthy. They certainly always look it. I
hope some notice will appear, as your paper, or rather yourself, is a
great force in London and when you speak men listen.

I of course feel that the poem is too autobiographical and that real
experience are alien things that should never influence one, but it was
wrung out of me, a cry of pain, the cry of Marsyas, not the song of
Apollo. Still, there are some good things in it. I feel as if I had made
a sonnet out of skilly, and that is something.

When you return from Monte Carlo please let me know. I long to dine with
you.

As regards a comedy, my dear Frank, I have lost the mainspring of life
and art--_la joie de vivre_--it is dreadful. I have pleasures and
passions, but the joy of life is gone. I am going under, the Morgue
yawns for me. I go and look at my zinc bed there. After all I had a
wonderful life, which is, I fear, over. But I must dine once with you
first.

Ever yours,

OSCAR WILDE.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] Oscar told me this story; but as it only concerns Lord Alfred
Douglas, and throws no new light on Oscar's character, I don't use it.

[40] This is extravagant condemnation of Lord Alfred Douglas' want of
education; for he certainly knew a great deal about the poetic art even
then and he has since acquired a very considerable knowledge of
"Elizabethan Song."

[41] Whoever wishes to understand this bitter allusion should read his
father's letter to Lord Alfred Douglas transcribed in the first volume.
The Marquis of Queensberry doesn't hesitate to hint why his son was
"sent down" from Oxford.

[42] Cfr. Appendix: "Criticisms by Robert Ross."

[43] Oscar is not flattering his friend in this: Lord Alfred Douglas has
written two or three sonnets which rank among the best in the language.

[44] This statement--more than half true--is Oscar Wilde's _Apologia_
and justification.

[45] This is, I believe, true and the explanation that follows is
probably true also.

[46] Baccarat is not played in the Casino: _roulette_ and _trente et
quarante_ are the games: roulette was Lord Alfred Douglas' favourite.

[47] This is a confession almost as much as an accusation.

[48] Oscar here crosses the _t's_ and dots the _i's_ of his charge.

[49] The previous accusation repeated, with bitterest sarcasm.

[50] Lord Alfred Douglas is well above the middle height: he holds
himself badly but is fully five feet nine inches in height.

[51] The old accusation.

[52] Mr. Beerbohm Tree.

[53] The very truth, it seems to me.

[54] Proving another guilty would not have exculpated Oscar. Readers of
my book will remember that I urged Oscar to tell the truth and how he
answered me.

[55] As will be seen from a letter of Oscar Wilde which I reproduce
later, I supplied the clothes.

[56] His letter was merely an acknowledgment that he had received the
clothes and cheque and was grateful. I saw nothing in it to answer as he
had not even mentioned the driving tour.

[57] I felt hurt that he dropped the idea without giving me any reason
or even letting me know his change of purpose.

[58] I think this was true; though it had never struck me till I read
this letter. Later, in order to excuse himself for not working, he
magnified the effect on his health of prison life. A year after his
release I think he had as large a reserve of nervous energy as ever.

[59] Fifty pounds was all Oscar asked me: the whole sum agreed upon. As
a matter of fact I gave him fifty pounds more before leaving Paris. I
didn't then know that he had ever told the scenario to anyone else, much
less sold it; though I ought perhaps to have guessed it.--F.H.

[60] I (Frank Harris) noticed at Reading that his hair was getting grey
in front and at the sides; but when we met later the grey had
disappeared. I thought he used some dye. I only mention this to show how
two good witnesses can differ on a plain matter of fact.

[61] Ross found afterwards that they amounted to L620.

MEMORIES OF OSCAR WILDE

BY G. BERNARD SHAW

Copyright, 1918,
BY BERNARD SHAW

INTRODUCTION

George Bernard Shaw ordered a special copy of this book of mine:
"Oscar Wilde: His Life and Confessions," as soon as it was announced.
I sent it to him and asked him to write me his opinion of the book.

In due course I received the following MSS. from him in which he tells
me what he thinks of my work:--"the best life of Wilde, ... Wilde's
memory will have to stand or fall by it"; and then goes on to relate
all his own meetings with Wilde, the impressions they made upon him
and his judgment of Wilde as a writer and as a man.

He has given himself this labor, he says, in order that I may publish
his views in the Appendix to my book if I think fit--an example, not
only of Shaw's sympathy and generosity, but of his light way of
treating his own kindness.

I am delighted to be able to put Shaw's considered judgment of Wilde
beside my own for the benefit of my readers. For if there had been
anything I had misseen or misjudged in Wilde, or any prominent trait
of his character I had failed to note, the sin, whether of omission or
commission, could scarcely have escaped this other pair of keen eyes.
Now indeed this biography of Wilde may be regarded as definitive.

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