Oscar Wilde and Modern Culture - Ohio University Press & Swallow ...

sieur Dorian Hope”—pseudonyms likely to arouse suspicions among Wilde’s
followers.₁⁰₆ Figgis, as we can see from the large file of materials containing these
forgeries held at the Clark Library, contacted a colleague at Brentano’s in Paris
to establish whether the real André Gide knew anything of this matter. Since
Figgis wanted to track down the forger, he expressed interest in further offers of
manuscripts, including ones supposedly in the possession of Octave Mirbeau’s
widow. After telling the so-called M. Gide that he needed to see the manuscripts
before agreeing to the sum of 8,000 francs, Figgis traveled to Paris. After dinner
at his hotel, Figgis was greeted by a gentleman going by the name of Dorian Hope:
“He was dressed like a Russian count with a magnificent fur-lined overcoat; a
plausible and well turned-out youth of about 25.”₁⁰⁷ This individual purported
to be Gide’s secretary. Once the real Gide learned that someone was exploiting
his good name, he took legal advice. Meanwhile, as matters were turned over to
the police, Figgis sought to entrap the forger—who was at the time based at
Amsterdam—by trying to persuade him to notarize an affidavit, which would of
course disclose the man’s true identity. It comes as no surprise to learn that Figgis
never heard again from Dorian Hope, whoever this imposing young man was.
Elsewhere, in 1920, someone using this pseudonym had managed to fool G. P.
Putnam’s of New York into publishing a volume of poems, Pearls and Pomegranates,
which the publisher withdrew from sale just before Figgis received the
impostor’s letters. This small volume contains poems that other writers, notably
Miriam Vedder, had previously published in journals such as the Wellesley Review.
The fraud, according to the New York Times, had been committed by one
of their overseas salesmen, Bret Holland, who put up $500 for an edition of 700
copies.₁⁰⁸ Was this Bret Holland any relation to Fabian Lloyd? Was this the same
Hope who had joined Figgis after dinner? Were all of these impersonations the
elaborate prank of a surrealist who had faked his death at sea?
While resolving these tantalizing questions remains impossible, one thing is
for sure. Some of the forgeries look so convincing that Millard, a recognized authority
on Wilde’s bibliography, was at first eager to believe they were authentic.
Although unable to muster funds to purchase all of these documents, Millard
(who at the time ran his own antiquarian business) acquired the manuscripts of
“The Tomb of Keats” and “The Disciple,” which he then sold to American customers,
and he convinced the Paris branch of Brentano’s that other documents
of this kind were genuine. In July 1921, however, Millard abruptly went back on
his word. After a discouraging meeting during which Maggs Brothers informed
Introduction 33