Mr. Labouchere in "Truth" says that he has always regarded Oscar Wilde as somewhat
"wrong in the head." "So strange and wondrous is his
mind," remarks the observant editor of "Truth," "when in an abnormal condition, that
it would not surprise me if he were deriving keen enjoyment from a
position which most people, whether innocent or guilty, would prefer to die rather
than occupy. He must have known in what a glass house he lived when he
challenged investigation in a court of justice. After he had done this he went abroad.
Why did he not stay abroad? The possibilities of a prison may not
be pleasant to him, but I believe the notoriety that has overtaken him has such a
charm for him that it outweighs everything else. I remember in the early
days of the cult of asceticism hearing Mr. St. George ask him how a man of his undoubted
capability could make such a fool of himself. He gave this
explanation: He had written, he said, a book of poems; in vain he went from publisher
to publisher asking them to bring them out, for not one would even
read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher he felt that he must do
something to become a personality; so he hit upon asceticism, which
caused people to talk about him and to invite him to their houses as a sort of lion.
He then took his poems to a publisher, who, still without reading
them, gladly accepted the M.S."
Mr Labouchere, in 'Truth,' says that he has always regarded Oscar Wilde as somewhat
"wrong in the head." "So strange and wondrous is his
mind," remarks the observant editor of 'Truth,' "when in an abnormal condition, that
it would not surprise me if he were deriving keen enjoyment from a
position which most people, whether innocent or guilty, would prefer to die rather
than occupy. He must have known in what a glass house he lived when he
challenged investigation in a court of justice. After he had done this, he went abroad.
Why did he not stay abroad? The possibilities of a prison may not
be pleasant to him, but I believe the notoriety that has overtaken him has such a
charm for him that it outweighs everything else. I remember in the early
days of the cult of asceticism hearing Mr St. George ask him how a man of his undoubted
capability could make such a fool of himself. He gave this
explanation: He had written, he said, a book of poems; in vain he went from publisher
to publisher asking them to bring them out, for not one would even
read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher he felt that he must do
something to become a personality; so he hit upon asceticism, which
caused people to talk about him and to invite him to other houses as a sort of lion.
He then took him poems to a publisher, who, still without reading
them, gladly accepted the M.S."
Mr Labouchere, in 'Truth,' says that he has always regarded Oscar Wilde as somewhat
"wrong in the head." "So strange and wondrous is
his mind," remarks the observant editor of 'Truth,' "when in an abnormal condition,
that it would not surprise me if he were deriving keen enjoyment from
a position which most people, whether innocent or guilty, would prefer to die rather
than occupy. He must have known in what a glass house he lived when
he challenged investigation in a court of justice. After he had done this, he went
abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The possibilities of a prison may
not be pleasant to him, but I believe the notoriety that has overtaken him has such
a charm for him that it outweighs everything else. I remember in the
early days of the cult of asceticism hearing Mr St. Geroge ask him how a man of his
undoubted capability could make such a fool of himself. He gave this
explanation: He had written, he said, a book of poems; in vain he went from publisher
to publisher asking them to bring them out, for not one would even
read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher he felt that he must do
something to become a personality; so he hit upon asceticism, which
caused people to talk about him and to invite him to other houses as a sort of lion.
He then took his poems to a publisher, who, still without reading
them, gladly accepted the M.S."
Mr Labouchere, editor of the London Truth, who has known Oscar Wilde for years, says
he has always regarded him as somewhat wrong in the
head. "So strange and wondrous is his mind," remarks the observant editor, "when in
an abnormal condition, that it would not surprise me if he were
deriving keen enjoyment from a position which most people, whether innocent or guilty,
would prefer to die rather than occupy. He must have known in what
a glass house he lived when he challenged investigation in a court of justice. After
he had done this he went abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The
possibilities of prison may not be pleasant to him, but I believe that the notoriety
that has overtaken him has such a charm for him that it outweighs
everything else. I remember in the early days of the cult of æstheticism, hearing
St. George ask him how a man of his undoubted capability could make such
a fool of himself. He gave this explanation. He had written, he said, a book of poems
in vain. He went from publisher to publisher asking them to bring
them out. Not one would even read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher
he felt that he must do something to become a personality, so he
hit upon æstheticism and succeeded. People talked about him and invited him to their
houses as a sort of lion. He then took his poems to a publisher, who,
still without reading them, gladly accepted the MS."
Mr Labouchere, editor of the London Truth, who has known Oscar Wilde for years, says
he has always regarded him as somewhat wrong in
the head. "So strange and wondrous in his mind," remarks the observant editor, "when
in an abnormal condition, that it would not surprise me if he were
deriving keen enjoyment from a position which most people, whether innocent or guilty,
would prefer to die rather than occupy. He must have known in what
a glass house he lived when he challenged investigation in a court of justice. After
he had done this he went abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The
possibilities of prison may not be pleasant to him, but I believe that the notoriety
that has overtaken him has such a charm for him that it outweighs
everything else. I remember in the early days of the cult of aestheticism, hearing
St. George ask him how a man of his undoubted capability could make
such a fool of himself. He gave this explanation: He had written, he said, a book
of poems in vain. He went from publisher to publisher asking them to
bring them out. Not one would even read them, for he was unknown. In order to find
a publisher he felt that he must do something to become a personality,
so he hit upon aestheticism and succeeded. People talked about him and invited him
to their houses as a sort of lion. He then took his poems to a
publisher, who, still without reading them, gladly accepted the MS."
Mr Labouchere, editor of "London Truth," who has known Oscar Wilde for years, says
he has always regarded him as somewhat wrong in the
head. "So strange and wondrous is his mind," remarks the observant editor, "when in
an abnormal condition that it would not surprise me if he were
deriving keen enjoyment from a position which most people, whether innocent or guilty,
would prefer to die rather than occupy. He must have known in what
a glass home he lived when he challenged investigation in a court of justice. After
he had done this, he went abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The
possibilities of prison may not be pleasing to him, but I believe the notoriety that
has overtaken him has such a charm for him that it outweighs
everything else. . . I remember in the early days of the cult of æstheticism hearing
some one ask him how a man of his undoubted character could make such
a fool of himself. He gave this explanation: He had written, he said, a book of poems.
In vain he went from publisher to publisher, asking them to bring
them out. Not one would even read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher,
he felt that he must do something to become a personality. So he
hit upon æstheticism. It succeeded. People talked about him and invited him to their
houses as a sort of lion. He then took his poems to a publisher who,
still without reading them, gladly accepted the MS."
Mr Labouchere, editor of London Truth who has known Oscar Wilde for years, says he
has always regarded him as somewhat wrong in the
head. "So strange and wondrous is his mind," remarks the observant editor, "when in
an abnormal condition that it would not surprise me if he were
deriving keen enjoyment from a position which most people, whether innocent or guilty,
would prefer to die rather than occupy. He must have known in what
a glass home he lived when he challenged investigation in a court of justice. After
he had done this he went abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The
possibilities of prison may not be pleasing to him, but I believe the notoriety that
has overtaken him has such a charm for him that it outweighs
everything else. . . I remember in the early days of the cult of æstheticism hearing
someone ask him how a man of his undoubted character could make such
a fool of himself. He gave this explanation: He had written, he said, a book of poems.
In vain he went from publisher to publisher, asking them to bring
them out. No one would even read them for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher
he felt that he must do something to become a personality. So he
hit upon æstheticism. It succeeded. People talked about him and invited him to their
houses as a sort of lion. He then took his poems to a publisher who,
still without reading them, gladly accepted the MS."
Mr Labouchere, editor of London Truth, who has known Oscar Wilde for years, says he
has always regarded him as somewhat wrong in his
head. "So strange and wondrous is his mind, remarks that observant editor, when in
an abnormal condition, that it would not surprise me if he were
deriving keen enjoyment from, a position which most people whether innocent or guilty,
would prefer to die rather than occupy. He must have known in what
a glass house he lived when he challenged investigation in a court of justice. After
he had done this, he went abroad. Why did he not stay abroad? The
possibilities of prison may not be pleasant to him, but I believe the notoriety that
has overtaken him has such a charm for him that it outweighs
everything else. I remember in the early days of the cult of aestheticism hearing
him asked how a man of his undoubted capability could make such a fool
of himself. He gave this explanation: He had written, bh said, a book of poems. In
vain he went from publisher to published asking them to bring them out.
Not one would even read them, for he was unknown. In order to find a publisher he
felt that he must do something to become a personality, so he hit upon
aestheticism. It succeeded. People talked about him, and invited him to their houses
as a sort of lion. He then took his poems to a publisher, who, still
without reading them, gladly accepted the M.S."
Mr Labouchere, editor of London Truth, who has known Oscar Wilde for some years, says
he has always regarded him as somewhat wrong in
his head (writes a London correspondent). "So strange and wondrous is his mind," remarks
that observant editor, "when in an abnormal condition that it
would not surprise me if he were deriving keen enjoyment from a position which most
people, innocent or guilty, would prefer to die rather than occupy. He
must have known in what a glass home he lived when he challenged investigation in
a court of justice. After he had done this, he went abroad. Why did he
not stay abroad? The possibilities of prison may not be pleasing to him, but I believe
the notoriety that has overtaken him has such a charm for him that
it outweighs everything else. . . I remember in the early days of the cult of æstheticism
hearing some one ask him how a man of his undoubted character
could make such a fool of himself. He gave this explanation: He had written, he said,
a book of poems. In vain he went from publisher to publisher, asking
them to bring them out. Not one would even read them, for he was unknown. In order
to find a publisher, he felt that he must do something to become a
personality. So he hit upon æstheticism. It succeeded. People talked about him and
invited him to their houses as a sort of lion. He then took his poems
to a publisher who, still without reading them, gladly accepted the M.S."