me. But the motives driving me are too strong for such
personal considerations. I might say with the Latin:

"Non me tua fervida terrent,
Dicta, ferox: Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis."

Even this would be only a part of the truth. Youth it seems to me
should always be prudent, for youth has much to lose: but I am come to
that time of life when a man can afford to be bold, may even dare to
be himself and write the best in him, heedless of knaves and fools or
of anything this world may do. The voyage for me is almost over: I am
in sight of port: like a good shipman, I have already sent down the
lofty spars and housed the captious canvas in preparation for the long
anchorage: I have little now to fear.

And the immortals are with me in my design. Greek tragedy treated of
far more horrible and revolting themes, such as the banquet of
Thyestes: and Dante did not shrink from describing the unnatural meal
of Ugolino. The best modern critics approve my choice. "All depends on
the subject," says Matthew Arnold, talking of great literature:
"choose a fitting action--a great and significant action--penetrate
yourself with the feeling of the situation: this done, everything else
will follow; for expression is subordinate and secondary."

Socrates was found guilty of corrupting the young and was put to death
for the offence. His accusation and punishment constitute surely a
great and significant action such as Matthew Arnold declared was
alone of the highest and most permanent literary value.

The action involved in the rise and ruin of Oscar Wilde is of the same
kind and of enduring interest to humanity. Critics may say that Wilde
is a smaller person than Socrates, less significant in many ways: but
even if this were true, it would not alter the artist's position; the
great portraits of the world are not of Napoleon or Dante. The
differences between men are not important in comparison with their
inherent likeness. To depict the mortal so that he takes on
immortality--that is the task of the artist.

There are special reasons, too, why I should handle this story. Oscar
Wilde was a friend of mine for many years: I could not help prizing
him to the very end: he was always to me a charming, soul-animating
influence. He was dreadfully punished by men utterly his inferiors:
ruined, outlawed, persecuted till Death itself came as a deliverance.
His sentence impeaches his judges. The whole story is charged with
tragic patho