When Oscar republished "The Picture of Dorian Gray" in book form in April, 1891, he sent me a large paper copy and with the copy he wrote a little note, asking me to tell him what I thought of the book. I got the volume and note early one morning and read the book until noon. I then sent him a note by hand: "Other men," I wrote, "have given us wine; some claret, some burgundy, some Moselle; you are the first to give us pure champagne. Much of this book is wittier even than Congreve and on an equal intellectual level: at length, it seems to me, you have justified yourself."
Half an hour later I was told that Oscar Wilde had called. I went down immediately to see him. He was bubbling over with content.
"How charming of you, Frank," he cried, "to have written me such a divine letter."
"I have only read a hundred pages of the book," I said; "but they are delightful: no one now can deny you a place among the wittiest and most humorous writers in English."
"How wonderful of you, Frank; what do you like so much?"
Like all artists, he loved praise and I was enthusiastic, happy to have the opportunity of making up for some earlier doubting that now seemed unworthy:
"Whatever the envious may say, you're with Burke and Sheridan, among the very ablest Irishmen....
"Of course I have heard most of the epigrams from you before, but you have put them even better in this book."
"Do you think so, really?" he asked, smiling with pleasure.