Оскар Уайльд
Miscellanies
LECTURE TO ART STUDENTS
Delivered to the Art students of the Royal Academy at their Club in Golden Square, Westminster, on June 30, 1883. The text is taken from the original manuscript.
In the lecture which it is my privilege to deliver before you to-night I do not desire to give you any abstract definition of beauty at all. For, we who are working in art cannot accept any theory of beauty in exchange for beauty itself, and, so far from desiring to isolate it in a formula appealing to the intellect, we, on the contrary, seek to materialise it in a form that gives joy to the soul through the senses. We want to create it, not to define it. The definition should follow the work: the work should not adapt itself to the definition.
Nothing, indeed, is more dangerous to the young artist than any conception of ideal beauty: he is constantly led by it either into weak prettiness or lifeless abstraction: whereas to touch the ideal at all you must not strip it of vitality. You must find it in life and re-create it in art.
While, then, on the one hand I do not desire to give you any philosophy of beauty – for, what I want to-night is to investigate how we can create art, not how we can talk of it – on the other hand, I do not wish to deal with anything like a history of English art.
To begin with, such an expression as English art is a meaningless expression. One might just as well talk of English mathematics. Art is the science of beauty, and Mathematics the science of truth: there is no national school of either. Indeed, a national school is a provincial school, merely. Nor is there any such thing as a school of art even. There are merely artists, that is all.
And as regards histories of art, they are quite valueless to you unless you are seeking the ostentatious oblivion of an art professorship. It is of no use to you to know the date of Perugino or the birthplace of Salvator Rosa: all that you should learn about art is to know a good picture when you see it, and a bad picture when you see it. As regards the date of the artist, all good work looks perfectly modern: a piece of Greek sculpture, a portrait of Velasquez – they are always modern, always of our time. And as regards the nationality of the artist, art is not national but universal. As regards archæology, then, avoid it altogether: archæology is merely the science of making excuses for bad art; it is the rock on which many a young artist founders and shipwrecks; it is the abyss from which no artist, old or young, ever returns. Or, if he does return, he is so covered with the dust of ages and the mildew of time, that he is quite unrecognisable as an artist, and has to conceal himself for the rest of his days under the cap of a professor, or as a mere illustrator of ancient history. How worthless archæology is in art you can estimate by the fact of its being so popular. Popularity is the crown of laurel which the world puts on bad art. Whatever is popular is wrong.
As I am not going to talk to you, then, about the philosophy of the beautiful, or the history of art, you will ask me what I am going to talk about. The subject of my lecture to-night is what makes an artist and what does the artist make; what are the relations of the artist to his surroundings, what is the education the artist should get, and what is the quality of a good work of art.
Now, as regards the relations of the artist to his surroundings, by which I mean the age and country in which he is born. All good art, as I said before, has nothing to do with any particular century; but this universality is the quality of the work of art; the conditions that produce that quality are different. And what, I think, you should do is to realise completely your age in order completely to abstract yourself from it; remembering that if you are an artist at all, you will be not the mouthpiece of a century, but the master of eternity; that all art rests on a principle, and that mere temporal considerations are no principle at all; and that those who advise you to make your art representative of the nineteenth century are advising you to produce an art which your children, when you have them, will think old-fashioned. But you will tell me this is an inartistic age, and we are an inartistic people, and the artist suffers much in this nineteenth century of ours.
Of course he does. I, of all men, am not going to deny that. But remember that there never has been an artistic age, or an artistic people, since the beginning of the world. The artist has always been, and will always be, an exquisite exception. There is no golden age of art; only artists who have produced what is more golden than gold.
What, you will say to me, the Greeks? were not they an artistic people?
Well, the Greeks certainly not, but, perhaps, you mean the Athenians, the citizens of one out of a thousand cities.
Do you think that they were an artistic people? Take them even at the time of their highest artistic development, the latter part of the fifth century before Christ, when they had the greatest poets and the greatest artists of the antique world, when the Parthenon rose in loveliness at the bidding of a Phidias, and the philosopher spake of wisdom in the shadow of the painted portico, and tragedy swept in the perfection of pageant and pathos across the marble of the stage. Were they an artistic people then? Not a bit of it. What is an artistic people but a people who love their artists and understand their art? The Athenians could do neither.
How did they treat Phidias? To Phidias we owe the great era, not merely in Greek, but in all art – I mean of the introduction of the use of the living model.
And what would you say if all the English bishops, backed by the English people, came down from Exeter Hall to the Royal Academy one day and took off Sir Frederick Leighton in a prison van to Newgate on the charge of having allowed you to make use of the living model in your designs for sacred pictures?
Would you not cry out against the barbarism and the Puritanism of such an idea? Would you not explain to them that the worst way to honour God is to dishonour man who is made in His image, and is the work of His hands; and, that if one wants to paint Christ one must take the most Christlike person one can find, and if one wants to paint the Madonna, the purest girl one knows?
Would you not rush off and burn down Newgate, if necessary, and say that such a thing was without parallel in history?
Without parallel? Well, that is exactly what the Athenians did.
In the room of the Parthenon marbles, in the British Museum, you will see a marble shield on the wall. On it there are two figures; one of a man whose face is half hidden, the other of a man with the godlike lineaments of Pericles. For having done this, for having introduced into a bas relief, taken from Greek sacred history, the image of the great statesman who was ruling Athens at the time, Phidias was flung into prison and there, in the common gaol of Athens, died, the supreme artist of the old world.
And do you think that this was an exceptional case? The sign of a Philistine age is the cry of immorality against art, and this cry was raised by the Athenian people against every great poet and thinker of their day – Æschylus, Euripides, Socrates. It was the same with Florence in the thirteenth century. Good handicrafts are due to guilds not to the people. The moment the guilds lost their power and the people rushed in, beauty and honesty of work died.
And so, never talk of an artistic people; there never has been such a thing.
But, perhaps, you will tell me that the external beauty of the world has almost entirely passed away from us, that the artist dwells no longer in the midst of the lovely surroundings which, in ages past, were the natural inheritance of every one, and that art is very difficult in this unlovely town of ours, where, as you go to your work in the morning, or return from it at eventide, you have to pass through street after street of the most foolish and stupid architecture that the world has ever seen; architecture, where every lovely Greek form is desecrated and defiled, and every lovely Gothic form defiled and desecrated, reducing three-fourths of the London houses to being, merely, like square boxes of the vilest proportions, as gaunt as they are grimy, and as poor as they are pretentious – the hall door always of the wrong colour, and the windows of the wrong size, and where, even when wearied of the houses you turn to contemplate the street itself, you have nothing to look at but chimney-pot hats, men with sandwich boards, vermilion letterboxes, and do that even at the risk of being run over by an emerald-green omnibus.
Is not art difficult, you will say to me, in such surroundings as these? Of course it is difficult, but then art was never easy; you yourselves would not wish it to be easy; and, besides, nothing is worth doing except what the world says is impossible.
Still, you do not care to be answered merely by a paradox. What are the relations of the artist to the external world, and what is the result of the loss of beautiful surroundings to you, is one of the most important questions of modern art; and there is no point on which Mr. Ruskin so insists as that the decadence of art has come from the decadence of beautiful things; and that when the artist can not feed his eye on beauty, beauty goes from his work.
I remember in one of his lectures, after describing the sordid aspect of a great English city, he draws for us a picture of what were the artistic surroundings long ago.
Think, he says, in words of perfect and picturesque imagery, whose beauty I can but feebly echo, think of what was the scene which presented itself, in his afternoon walk, to a designer of the Gothic school of Pisa – Nino Pisano or any of his men28:
On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter palaces, arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, and with serpentine; along the quays before their gates were riding troops of knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield; horse and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light – the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and clashing mail, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset. Opening on each side from the river were gardens, courts, and cloisters; long successions of white pillars among wreaths of vine; leaping of fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: and still along the garden-paths, and under and through the crimson of the pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest women that Italy ever saw – fairest, because purest and thoughtfullest; trained in all high knowledge, as in all courteous art – in dance, in song, in sweet wit, in lofty learning, in loftier courage, in loftiest love – able alike to cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of men. Above all this scenery of perfect human life, rose dome and bell-tower, burning with white alabaster and gold: beyond dome and bell-tower the slopes of mighty hills, hoary with olive; far in the north, above a purple sea of peaks of solemn Apennine, the clear, sharp-cloven Carrara mountains sent up their steadfast flames of marble summit into amber sky; the great sea itself, scorching with expanse of light, stretching from their feet to the Gorgonian isles; and over all these, ever present, near or far – seen through the leaves of vine, or imaged with all its march of clouds in the Arno’s stream, or set with its depth of blue close against the golden hair and burning cheek of lady and knight, – that untroubled and sacred sky, which was to all men, in those days of innocent faith, indeed the unquestioned abode of spirits, as the earth was of men; and which opened straight through its gates of cloud and veils of dew into the awfulness of the eternal world; – a heaven in which every cloud that passed was literally the chariot of an angel, and every ray of its Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of God.
What think you of that for a school of design?
And then look at the depressing, monotonous appearance of any modern city, the sombre dress of men and women, the meaningless and barren architecture, the colourless and dreadful surroundings. Without a beautiful national life, not sculpture merely, but all the arts will die.
Well, as regards the religious feeling of the close of the passage, I do not think I need speak about that. Religion springs from religious feeling, art from artistic feeling: you never get one from the other; unless you have the right root you will not get the right flower; and, if a man sees in a cloud the chariot of an angel, he will probably paint it very unlike a cloud.
But, as regards the general idea of the early part of that lovely bit of prose, is it really true that beautiful surroundings are necessary for the artist? I think not; I am sure not. Indeed, to me the most inartistic thing in this age of ours is not the indifference of the public to beautiful things, but the indifference of the artist to the things that are called ugly. For, to the real artist, nothing is beautiful or ugly in itself at all. With the facts of the object he has nothing to do, but with its appearance only, and appearance is a matter of light and shade, of masses, of position, and of value.
Appearance is, in fact, a matter of effect merely, and it is with the effects of nature that you have to deal, not with the real condition of the object. What you, as painters, have to paint is not things as they are but things as they seem to be, not things as they are but things as they are not.
No object is so ugly that, under certain conditions of light and shade, or proximity to other things, it will not look beautiful; no object is so beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not look ugly. I believe that in every twenty-four hours what is beautiful looks ugly, and what is ugly looks beautiful, once.
And, the commonplace character of so much of our English painting seems to me due to the fact that so many of our young artists look merely at what we may call ‘ready-made beauty,’ whereas you exist as artists not to copy beauty but to create it in your art, to wait and watch for it in nature.
What would you say of a dramatist who would take nobody but virtuous people as characters in his play? Would you not say he was missing half of life? Well, of the young artist who paints nothing but beautiful things, I say he misses one half of the world.
Do not wait for life to be picturesque, but try and see life under picturesque conditions. These conditions you can create for yourself in your studio, for they are merely conditions of light. In nature, you must wait for them, watch for them, choose them; and, if you wait and watch, come they will.
In Gower Street at night you may see a letterbox that is picturesque; on the Thames Embankment you may see picturesque policemen. Even Venice is not always beautiful, nor France.
To paint what you see is a good rule in art, but to see what is worth painting is better. See life under pictorial conditions. It is better to live in a city of changeable weather than in a city of lovely surroundings.
Now, having seen what makes the artist, and what the artist makes, who is the artist? There is a man living amongst us who unites in himself all the qualities of the noblest art, whose work is a joy for all time, who is, himself, a master of all time. That man is Mr. Whistler.
But, you will say, modern dress, that is bad. If you cannot paint black cloth you could not have painted silken doublet. Ugly dress is better for art – facts of vision, not of the object.
What is a picture? Primarily, a picture is a beautifully coloured surface, merely, with no more spiritual message or meaning for you than an exquisite fragment of Venetian glass or a blue tile from the wall of Damascus. It is, primarily, a purely decorative thing, a delight to look at.
All archæological pictures that make you say ‘How curious!’ all sentimental pictures that make you say ‘How sad!’ all historical pictures that make you say ‘How interesting!’ all pictures that do not immediately give you such artistic joy as to make you say ‘How beautiful!’ are bad pictures.
* * * * *
We never know what an artist is going to do. Of course not. The artist is not a specialist. All such divisions as animal painters, landscape painters, painters of Scotch cattle in an English mist, painters of English cattle in a Scotch mist, racehorse painters, bull-terrier painters, all are shallow. If a man is an artist he can paint everything.
The object of art is to stir the most divine and remote of the chords which make music in our soul; and colour is, indeed, of itself a mystical presence on things, and tone a kind of sentinel.
Am I pleading, then, for mere technique? No. As long as there are any signs of technique at all, the picture is unfinished. What is finish? A picture is finished when all traces of work, and of the means employed to bring about the result, have disappeared.
In the case of handicraftsmen – the weaver, the potter, the smith – on their work are the traces of their hand. But it is not so with the painter; it is not so with the artist.
Art should have no sentiment about it but its beauty, no technique except what you cannot observe. One should be able to say of a picture not that it is ‘well painted,’ but that it is ‘not painted.’
What is the difference between absolutely decorative art and a painting? Decorative art emphasises its material: imaginative art annihilates it. Tapestry shows its threads as part of its beauty: a picture annihilates its canvas; it shows nothing of it. Porcelain emphasises its glaze: water-colours reject the paper.
A picture has no meaning but its beauty, no message but its joy. That is the first truth about art that you must never lose sight of. A picture is a purely decorative thing.
BIBLIOGRAPHY BY STUART MASON
NOTE
Part I. includes all the authorised editions published in England, and the two French editions of Salomé published in Paris. Authorised editions of some of the works were issued in the United States of America simultaneously with the English publication.
Part II. contains the only two ‘Privately Printed’ editions which are authorised.
Part III. is a chronological list of all contributions (so far as at present known) to magazines, periodicals, etc., the date given being that of the first publication only. Those marked with an asterisk (*) were published anonymously. Many of the poems have been included in anthologies of modern verse, but no attempt has been made to give particulars of such reprints in this Bibliography.
I. – AUTHORISED ENGLISH EDITIONS
NEWDIGATE PRIZE POEM. RAVENNA. Recited in the Theatre, Oxford, June 26, 1878. By OSCAR WILDE, Magdalen College. Oxford: Thos. Shrimpton and Son, 1878.
POEMS. London: David Bogue, 1881 (June 30).
Second and Third Editions, 1881.
Fourth and Fifth Editions [Revised], 1882.
220 copies (200 for sale) of the Fifth Edition, with a new title-page and cover designed by Charles Ricketts. London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, 1892 (May 26).
THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES. (‘The Happy Prince,’ ‘The Nightingale and the Rose,’ ‘The Selfish Giant,’ ‘The Devoted Friend,’ ‘The Remarkable Rocket.’) Illustrated by Walter Crane and Jacomb Hood. London: David Nutt, 1888 (May).
Also 75 copies (65 for sale) on Large Paper, with the plates in two states.
Second Edition, January 1889.
Third Edition, February 1902.
Fourth Impression, September 1905.
Fifth Impression, February 1907.
INTENTIONS. (‘The Decay of Lying,’ ‘Pen, Pencil, and Poison,’ ‘The Critic as Artist,’ ‘The Truth of Masks.’) London: James R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891 (May). New Edition, 1894.
Edition for Continental circulation only. The English Library, No. 54. Leipzig: Heinemann and Balestier, 1891. Frequently reprinted.
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. London: Ward, Lock and Co. [1891 (July 1).]
Also 250 copies on Large Paper. Dated 1891.
[Note. – July 1 is the official date of publication, but presentation copies signed by the author and dated May 1891 are known.]
New Edition [1894 (October 1).] London: Ward, Lock and Bowden.
Reprinted. Paris: Charles Carrington, 1901, 1905, 1908 (January).
Edition for Continental circulation only. Leipzig: Bernhard Tauchnitz, vol. 4049. 1908 (July).
LORD ARTHUR SAVILE’S CRIME AND OTHER STORIES. (‘Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime,’ ‘The Sphinx Without a Secret,’ ‘The Canterville Ghost,’ ‘The Model Millionaire.’) London: James R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891 (July).
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES. (‘The Young King,’ ‘The Birthday of the Infanta,’ ‘The Fisherman and His Soul,’ ‘The Star Child.’) With Designs and Decorations by Charles Ricketts and C. H. Shannon. London: James R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891 (November).
SALOMÉ. DRAME EN UN ACTE. Paris: Librairie de l’Art Indépendant. Londres: Elkin Mathews et John Lane, 1893 (February 22).
600 copies (500 for sale) and 25 on Large Paper.
New Edition. With sixteen Illustrations by Aubrey Beardsley. Paris: Edition à petit nombre imprimée pour les Souscripteurs. 1907.
500 copies.
[Note. – Several editions, containing only a portion of the text, have been issued for the performance of the Opera by Richard Strauss. London: Methuen and Co.; Berlin: Adolph Fürstner. ]
LADY WINDERMERE’S FAN. A PLAY ABOUT A GOOD WOMAN. London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, 1893 (November 8).
500 copies and 50 on Large Paper.
Acting Edition. London: Samuel French. (Text Incomplete.)
SALOME. A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT. Translated from the French [by Lord Alfred Bruce Douglas.] Pictured by Aubrey Beardsley. London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, 1894 (February 9).
500 copies and 100 on Large Paper.
With the two suppressed plates and extra title-page. Preface by Robert Ross. London: John Lane, 1907 (September 1906).
New Edition (without illustrations). London: John Lane, 1906 (June), 1908.
THE SPHINX. With Decorations by Charles Ricketts. London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, 1894 (July).
200 copies and 25 on Large Paper.
A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE. London: John Lane, 1894 (October 9).
500 copies and 50 on Large Paper.
THE SOUL OF MAN. London: Privately Printed, 1895.
[Reprinted from the Fortnightly Review (February 1891), by permission of the Proprietors, and published by A. L. Humphreys.]
New Edition. London: Arthur L. Humphreys, 1907.
Reprinted in Sebastian Melmoth. London: Arthur L. Humphreys, 1904, 1905.
THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL. By C.3.3. London: Leonard Smithers, 1898 (February 13).
800 copies and 30 on Japanese Vellum.
Second Edition, March 1898.
Third Edition, 1898. 99 copies only, signed by the author.
Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Editions, 1898.
Seventh Edition, 1899.29
[Note. – The above are printed at the Chiswick Press on handmade paper. All reprints on ordinary paper are unauthorised.]
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. A TRIVIAL COMEDY FOR SERIOUS PEOPLE. BY THE AUTHOR OF LADY WINDERMERE’S FAN. London: Leonard Smithers and Co., 1899 (February).
1000 copies. Also 100 copies on Large Paper, and 12 on Japanese Vellum.
Acting Edition. London: Samuel French. (Text Incomplete.)
AN IDEAL HUSBAND. BY THE AUTHOR OF LADY WINDERMERE’S FAN. London: Leonard Smithers and Co., 1889 (July).
1000 copies. Also 100 copies on Large Paper, and 12 on Japanese Vellum.
DE PROFUNDIS. London: Methuen and Co., 1905 (February 23).
Also 200 copies on Large Paper, and 50 on Japanese Vellum.
Second Edition, March 1905.
Third Edition, March 1905.
Fourth Edition, April 1905.
Fifth Edition, September 1905.
Sixth Edition, March 1906.
Seventh Edition, January 1907.
Eighth Edition, April 1907.
Ninth Edition, July 1907.
Tenth Edition, October 1907.
Eleventh Edition, January 1908.30
THE WORKS OF OSCAR WILDE. London: Methuen and Co., 1908 (February 13). In thirteen volumes. 1000 copies on Handmade Paper and 80 on Japanese Vellum.
THE DUCHESS OF PADUA. A PLAY.
SALOMÉ. A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY. VERA.
LADY WINDERMERE’S FAN. A PLAY ABOUT A GOOD WOMAN.
A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE. A PLAY.
AN IDEAL HUSBAND. A PLAY.
THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. A TRIVIAL COMEDY FOR SERIOUS PEOPLE.
LORD ARTHUR SAVILE’S CRIME AND OTHER PROSE PIECES.
INTENTIONS AND THE SOUL OF MAN.
THE POEMS.
A HOUSE OF POMEGRANATES, THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES.
DE PROFUNDIS.
REVIEWS.
MISCELLANIES.
Uniform with the above. Paris: Charles Carrington, 1908 (April 16).
THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY.
II. – EDITIONS PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR
VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS. A DRAMA IN A PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS. [New York] 1882.
THE DUCHESS OF PADUA: A TRAGEDY OF THE XVI CENTURY WRITTEN IN PARIS IN THE XIX CENTURY. Privately Printed as Manuscript. [New York, 1883 (March 15).]
III. – MISCELLANEOUS CONTRIBUTIONS TO MAGAZINES, PERIODICALS, Etc
1875
November. CHORUS OF CLOUD MAIDENS (Αριστοφανους Νεφελαι, 275-287 and 295-307). Dublin University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVI. No. 515, page 622.
1876
January. FROM SPRING DAYS TO WINTER. (FOR MUSIC.) Dublin University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVII. No. 517, page 47.
March. GRAFFITI D’ITALIA. I. SAN MINIATO. (JUNE 15.) Dublin University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVII. No. 519, page 297.
June. THE DOLE OF THE KING’S DAUGHTER. Dublin University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVII. No. 522, page 682.
Trinity Term. ΔΗΞΙΘΥΜΟΝ ΕΡΩΤΟΣ ΑΝΘΟΣ. (THE ROSE OF LOVE, AND WITH A ROSE’S THORNS.) Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 10, page 268.
September. Αιλινον, αιλινον ειπε, το δ’ ευ νικατω. Dublin University Magazine, Vol. LXXXVIII. No. 525, page 291.
September. THE TRUE KNOWLEDGE. Irish Monthly, Vol. IV. No. 39, page 594.
September. GRAFFITI D’ITALIA. (ARONA. LAGO MAGGIORE.) Month and Catholic Review, Vol. xxviii. No. 147, page 77.
Michaelmas Term. ΘΡΗΝΩΙΔΙΑ. Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 11, page 298.
1877
February. LOTUS LEAVES. Irish Monthly, Vol. v. No. 44, page 133.
Hilary Term. A FRAGMENT FROM THE AGAMEMNON OF ÆSCHYLOS. Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 12, page 320.
Hilary Term. A NIGHT VISION. Kottabos, Vol. II. No. 12, page 331.
June. SALVE SATURNIA TELLUS. Irish Monthly, Vol. V. No. 48, page 415.
June. URBS SACRA ÆTERNA. Illustrated Monitor, Vol. IV. No. 3, page 130.
July. THE TOMB OF KEATS. Irish Monthly, Vol. V. No. 49, page 476.
July. SONNET WRITTEN DURING HOLY WEEK. Illustrated Monitor, Vol. IV. No. 4, page 186.
July. THE GROSVENOR GALLERY. Dublin University Magazine, Vol. XC. No. 535, page 118.
Michaelmas Term. WASTED DAYS. (FROM A PICTURE PAINTED BY MISS V. T.) Kottabos, Vol. III. No. 2, page 56.
December. Ιλοντος Ατρυyετος. Irish Monthly, Vol. V. No. 54, page 746.
1878
April. MAGDALEN WALKS. Irish Monthly, Vol. VI. No. 58, page 211.
1879
Hilary Term. ‘LA BELLE MARGUERITE.’ BALLADE DU MOYEN AGE. Kottabos, Vol. III. No. 6, page 146.
April. THE CONQUEROR OF TIME. Time, Vol. I. No. 1, page 30.
May 5. GROSVENOR GALLERY (First Notice.) Saunders’ Irish Daily News, Vol. CXC. No. 42,886, page 5.
June. EASTER DAY. Waifs and Strays, Vol. I. No. 1, page 2.
June 11. TO SARAH BERNHARDT. World, No. 258, page 18.
July. THE NEW HELEN. Time, Vol. I. No. 4, page 400.
July 16. QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA. (Charles I,, act iii.) World, No. 263, page 18.
Michaelmas Term. AVE! MARIA. Kottabos, Vol. III. No. 8, page 206.
1880
January 14. PORTIA. World, No. 289, page 13.
March. IMPRESSION DE VOYAGE. Waifs and Strays, Vol. I. No. 3, page 77.
August 25. AVE IMPERATRIX! A POEM ON ENGLAND. World, No. 321, page 12.
November 10. LIBERTATIS SACRA FAMES. World, No. 332, page 15.
December. SEN ARTYSTY; OR, THE ARTIST’S DREAM. Translated from the Polish of Madame Helena Modjeska. Routledge’s Christmas Annual: The Green Room, page 66.
1881
January. THE GRAVE OF KEATS. Burlington, Vol. I. No. 1, page 35.
March 2. IMPRESSION DE MATIN. World, No. 348, page 15.
1882
February 15. IMPRESSIONS: I. LE JARDIN. II. LA MER. Our Continent (Philadelphia), Vol. I. No. 1, page 9.
November 7. MRS. LANGTRY AS HESTER GRAZEBROOK. New York World, page 5.
L’ENVOI, An Introduction to Rose Leaf and Apple Leaf, by Rennell Rodd, page 11. Philadelphia: J. M. Stoddart and Co.
[Besides the ordinary edition a limited number of an édition de luxe was issued printed in brown ink on one side only of a thin transparent handmade parchment paper, the whole book being interleaved with green tissue.]
1883
November 14. TELEGRAM TO WHISTLER. World, No. 489, page 16.
1884
May 29. UNDER THE BALCONY. Shaksperean Show-Book, page 23.
(Set to Music by Lawrence Kellie as OH! BEAUTIFUL STAR. SERENADE. London: Robert Cocks and Co., 1892.)
October 14. MR. OSCAR WILDE ON WOMAN’S DRESS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XL. No. 6114, page 6.
November 11. MORE RADICAL IDEAS UPON DRESS REFORM. (With two illustrations.) Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XL. No. 6138, page 14.
1885
February 21. MR. WHISTLER’S TEN O’CLOCK. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6224, page 1.
February 25. TENDERNESS IN TITE STREET. World, No. 556, page 14.
February 28. THE RELATION OF DRESS TO ART. A NOTE IN BLACK AND WHITE ON MR. WHISTLER’S LECTURE. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6230, page 4.
March 7. *DINNERS AND DISHES. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6236, page 5.
March 13. *A MODERN EPIC. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6241, page 11.
March 14. SHAKESPEARE ON SCENERY. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 7, page 99.
March 27. *A BEVY OF POETS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6253, page 5.
April 1. *PARNASSUS VERSUS PHILOLOGY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6257, page 6.
April 11. THE HARLOT’S HOUSE. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 11, page 167.
May. SHAKESPEARE AND STAGE COSTUME. Nineteenth Century, Vol. XVII. No. 99, page 800.
May 9. HAMLET AT THE LYCEUM. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 15, page 227.
May 15. *TWO NEW NOVELS. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6293, page 4.
May 23. HENRY THE FOURTH AT OXFORD. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 17, page 264.
May 27. *MODERN GREEK POETRY. Pall Mall Gazette, Vol. XLI. No. 6302, page 5.
May 30. OLIVIA AT THE LYCEUM. Dramatic Review, Vol. I. No. 18, page 278.
June. LE JARDIN DES TUILERIES. (With an illustration by L. Troubridge.) In a Good Cause, page 83. London: Wells Gardner, Darton and Co.
