To J. S. Blackie
[Circa 16 December 1884] The Balmoral, Edinburgh
My dear Professor, I am in Edinboro’ for three days, and the man who comes to Scotland without scenting the heather on the mountain, or talking to you among your books, misses what is best in the land. So as I can see no glory of purple on the hillside, may I come and see you, when you have, if you ever have, an idle hour?
My excuse must be that all Celts gravitate towards each other. Believe me, in any case, your sincere admirer
OSCAR WILDE
John Blackie had been Professor of Greek at Edinburgh until 1882. He was much loved, famous for his eccentricities and said to teach his pupils everything except Greek. He visited the Wildes when he was in Dublin in 1874. He died, coincidentally, on the day that Wilde had the Marquess of Queensberry arrested, 2 March 3895.
To E. W. Godwin
[19 December 1884] The Balmoral, Edinburgh
My dear Godwin, I cannot understand Sharpe’s account, enclosed. What is (1) extra painting? What is (2) 14 gas brackets? What is deal shelf overmantel and case in dining-room etc.? Sharpe has been paid first £40 for the overmantel in bedroom and drawing-room, and the sideboard—which by the bye I thought very dear—then £120 for his contract, but this new £100 takes me by surprise. I thought the £120 was for everything. Surely Green fixed the gas stoves? I may be wrong, but would you look over it again?
I hope you have been able to choose the stuffs. I don’t think the oriental blue and red hanging is big enough for two curtains on landing at drawing-room. Would you choose something for that place, and see my wife about them? I do hope to see things nearly ready when I come home—the coverings for settees especially.
I wish you were in Edinboro’ with me: it is quite lovely—bits of it. The house must be a success: do just add the bloom of colour to it in curtains and cushions. Ever yours
OSCAR
Wilde had been billed as one of the speakers at a meeting in Leicester of the Funeral and Mourning Reform Association which had been inaugurated the year before.
To the Rev. J. Page Hopps
14 January 1885 [London]
Dear Mr Hopps, I am very sorry to say that I am confined to the house with a severe cold, caught by lecturing in a Lincolnshire snowstorm, and am not allowed by my doctor to travel. It is with much regret that I find myself unable to join in the meeting tomorrow, as I sympathise most strongly with the object in question. The present style of burying and sorrowing for the dead seems to me to make grief grotesque, and to turn mourning to a mockery. Any reform you can bring about in these customs would be of value quite inestimable. The present ostentation and extravagance of burial rites seems to me to harmonise but ill with the real feeling of those at the doors of whose house the Angel of Death has knocked. The ceremony by which we part from those whom we have loved should not merely be noble in its meaning, but simple in its sincerity. The funeral of Ophelia does not seem to me ‘a maimed rite’ when one thinks of the flowers strewn on her grave. I regret exceedingly that I cannot hear the actual suggestions on the matter which will be made at your meeting. I have always been of opinion that the coffin should be privately conveyed at night-time to the churchyard chapel, and that there the mourners should next day meet. By these means the public procession through the streets would be avoided; and the publicity of funerals is surely the real cause of their expense. As regards dress, I consider that white and violet should be recognised as mourning, and not black merely, particularly in the case of children. The habit of bringing flowers to the grave is now almost universal, and is a custom beautiful in its symbolism; but I cannot help thinking that the elaborate and expensive designs made by the florist are often far less lovely than a few flowers held loose in the hand. There are many other points on which I should have liked to listen, and one point on which I had hoped to have the privilege of speaking. I mean the expression of sorrow in art. The urns, pyramids and sham sarcophagi—ugly legacies from the eighteenth century to us—are meaningless as long as we do not burn or embalm our dead. If we are to have funeral memorials at all, far better models are to be found in the beautiful crosses of Ireland, such as the cross at Monasterboice, or in the delicate bas-reliefs on Greek tombs. Above all, such art, if we are to have it, should concern itself more with the living than the dead—should be rather a noble symbol for the guiding of life than an idle panegyric on those who are gone. If a man needs an elaborate tombstone in order to remain in the memory of his country, it is clear that his living at all was an act of absolute superfluity. Keats’s grave is a hillock of green grass with a plain headstone, and is to me the holiest place in Rome. There is in Westminster Abbey a periwigged admiral in a nightgown hurried off to heaven by two howling cherubs, which is one of the best examples I know of ostentatious obscurity. Pray offer to the committee of the society my sincere regrets at my inability to be present, and my sincere wishes for the success of your movement. Believe me, sincerely yours
OSCAR WILDE
Wilde’s relationship with Whistler, which had started when he came to London in 18J9, was always a stormy one; Whistler generally accusing Wilde of plagiarism and appropriating his views on art. It passed through good-natured banter while Wilde was in America but started to become acrimonious after Wilde reviewed Whistler’s ‘Ten O’Clock’ lecture on 20 February. Whistler’s hostility finally brought it to an end in 1890, though Wilde managed to have the last word by publishing ‘The Critic as Artist’ six months after their last public exchange (see pp. 121–2).
To James McNeill Whistler
[Circa 23 February 1885]
Dear Butterfly, By the aid of a biographical dictionary I discovered that there were once two painters, called Benjamin West and Paul Delaroche, who recklessly took to lecturing on Art.
As of their works nothing at all remains, I conclude that they explained themselves away. Be warned in time, James; and remain, as I do, incomprehensible: to be great is to be misunderstood. Tout à vous
OSCAR
Private
Jimmy! You must stamp your letters—they are dear at two pence—and also do send them in proper time. 2.30 on Monday! Ciel!
To T. H. S. Escott
[?Late February 1885] 16 Tite Street, Chelsea
Dear Mr Escott, There is an ominous silence from ‘Jimmy’ over the way: if he sends any letter to the World I wish you would not publish it till I can write my answer. There is no delight unless both guns go off together. Truly yours
OSCAR WILDE
To Helena Sickert
[Circa 1 March 1885] 16 Tite Street
Dear Miss Nellie, Is it in accordance with the right principles of political economy to sell a poet’s love letters? Your sincere friend
OSCAR WILDE
William Benson, elder brother of Frank Benson, the actor, was an architect and designer in metalwork. Since decorating his own ‘House Beautiful’ in Tite Street, Wilde’s views on house decoration had developed considerably from the rather theoretical lectures he was giving three years before in America.
To W. A. S. Benson
[16 May 1885] 16 Tite