Shared wit of Whistler and Wilde
Oscar's play (I was there on Saturday) strikes me as a mixture that will run...though infantine to my sense...There is so much drollery – that is, 'cheeky' paradoxical wit of dialogue, and the pit and the gallery are so pleased at finding themselves clever enough to 'catch on' to four or five of the ingenious – too ingenious – mots in the dozen, that it makes them feel quite decadent and raffiné ...The 'impudent' speech at the end was simply inevitable mechanical Oscar – I mean the usual trick of saying the unusual... How about that for a piece of lese-majesty. Few would dare write it about St Oscar today, when the aspiration to appear at once infantine and decadent has become universal.