invent, not to chronicle. There are no such people. If
there were I would not write about them. Life by its realism is always
spoiling the subject-matter of art.

The superior pleasure in literature is to realise the non-existent.

And, finally, let me say this. You have reproduced, in a journalistic
form, the comedy of "Much Ado about Nothing" and have, of course, spoilt
it in your reproduction.

The poor public, hearing from an authority so high as your own, that
this is a wicked book that should be coerced and suppressed by a Tory
Government, will, no doubt, rush to it and read it. But, alas, they will
find that it is a story with a moral. And the moral is this: All excess,
as well as all renunciation, brings its own punishment.

The painter, Basil Hallward, worshipping physical beauty far too much,
as most painters do, dies by the hand of one in whose soul he has
created a monstrous and absurd vanity. Dorian Gray, having led a life of
mere sensation and pleasure, tries to kill conscience, and at that
moment kills himself. Lord Henry Wotton seeks to be merely the spectator
of life. He finds that those who reject the battle are more deeply
wounded than those who take part in it.

Yes, there is a terrible moral in "Dorian Gray"--a moral which the
prurient will not be able to find in it, but it will be revealed to all
whose minds are healthy. Is this an artistic error? I fear it is. It is
the only error in the book.

* * * * *

The Editor added to this letter:--

Mr. Oscar Wilde may perhaps be excused for being angry at the remarks
which we allowed ourselves to make concerning the "moral tale" of the
Three Puppies and the Magic Picture; but he should not misrepresent us.
He says we suggested that his novel was a "wicked book which should be
coerced and suppressed by a Tory Government." We did nothing of the
kind. The authors of books of much less questionable character have been
proceeded against by the Treasury or the Vigilance Society; but we
expressly said that we hoped Mr. Wilde's masterpiece would be left
alone.

Then, Mr. Wilde (like any young lady who has published her first novel
"at the request of numerous friends") falls back on the theory of the
critic's personal malice. This is unworthy of so experienced a literary
gentleman. We can assure Mr. Wilde that the writer of that article had,
and has, no "personal malice" or personal feeling towards him. We can
surely censu