better than any comedy of Shakespeare! Ha! ha! ha! 'more brilliant!' ho! ho!"

"Yes," I persisted, angered by his disdain, "wittier, and more humorous than 'As
You Like It,' or 'Much Ado.' Strange to say, too, it is on a higher intellectual
level. I can only compare it to the best of Congreve, and I think it's better."
With a grunt of disapproval or rage the great man of the daily press turned away
to exchange bleatings with one of his "confreres".

The audience was a picked audience of the best heads in London, far superior in
brains therefore to the average journalist, and their judgment was that it was a
most brilliant and interesting play. Though the humour was often prepared, the
construction showed a rare mastery of stage-effect. Oscar Wilde had at length
come into his kingdom.

At the end the author was called for, and Oscar appeared before the curtain.
The house rose at him and cheered and cheered again. He was smiling, with a
cigarette between his fingers, wholly master of himself and his audience.

"I am so glad, ladies and gentlemen, that you like my play. (confer Appendix:
"Criticisms by Robert Ross.") I feel sure you estimate the merits of it almost
as highly as I do myself."

The house rocked with laughter. The play and its humour were a seven days'
wonder in London. People talked of nothing but "Lady Windermere's Fan."
The witty words in it ran from lip to lip like a tidbit of scandal. Some
clever Jewesses and, strange to say, one Scotchman were the loudest in applause.
Mr. Archer, the well-known critic of "The World", was the first and only
journalist to perceive that the play was a classic by virtue of "genuine
dramatic qualities." Mrs. Leverson turned the humorous sayings into current
social coin in "Punch", of all places in the world, and from a favourite Oscar