"SALOMÉ" has made the author's name a household word wherever the English language is not spoken. Few English plays have such a peculiar history. Written in French in 1892 it was in full rehearsal by Madame Bernhardt at the Palace Theatre when it was prohibited by the Censor. Oscar Wilde immediately announced his intention of changing his nationality, a characteristic jest, which was only taken seriously, oddly enough, in Ireland. The interference of the Censor has seldom been more popular or more heartily endorsed by English critics. On its publication in book form "Salomé" was greeted by a chorus of ridicule, and it may be noted in passing that at least two of the more violent reviews were from the pens of unsuccessful dramatists, while all those whose French never went beyond Ollendorff were glad to find in that venerable school classic an unsuspected asset in their education—a handy missile with which to pelt "Salomé" and its author. The correctness of the French was, of course, impugned, although the scrip had been passed by a distinguished French writer, to whom I have heard the whole work attributed. The Times, while depreciating the drama, gave its author credit for a tour de force, in being capable of writing a French play for Madame Bernhardt, and this drew from him the following letter:—

オスカー・ワイルドが綴った『サロメ』は、唯美主義の極致たる背徳的な美に満ちています。執拗な反復と象徴的な台詞は、呪文のように読者を陶酔へ誘います。月光の下で描かれる愛執と残酷さは、理性を超えた人間の深淵を照らし出し、読む者の魂を激しく揺さぶるのです。 映像化作品では視覚的な官能性が際立ちますが、原作には言葉が持つ毒のような深みがあります。映像の様式美と、文字から立ち上るワイルド特有の知性が融合する時、この悲劇は至高の芸術体験へと昇華されます。静謐な書物の中でこそ、サロメの狂気はより鮮烈に響き渡るでしょう。