last verse would be quoted:--"Divine, don't ye think?"
"And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl."
In spite of all this extravagant eulogy Oscar Wilde's early plays and
poems, like his lectures, were unimportant. The small remnant of
people in England who really love the things of the spirit were
disappointed in them, failed to find in them the genius so loudly and
so arrogantly vaunted.
But, if Oscar Wilde's early writings were failures, his talk was more
successful than ever. He still tried to show off on all occasions and
sometimes fell flat in consequence; but his failures in this field
were few and merely comparative; constant practice was ripening his
extraordinary natural gift. About this time, too, he began to develop
that humorous vein in conversation, which later lent a singular
distinction to his casual utterances.
His talk brought him numerous invitations to dinner and lunch and
introduced him to some of the best houses in London, but it produced
no money. He was earning very little and he needed money,
comparatively large sums of money, from week to week.
Oscar Wilde was extravagant in almost every possible way. He wished to
be well-fed, well-dressed, well-wined, and prodigal of "tips." He
wanted first editions of the poets; had a liking for old furniture
and old silver, for fine pictures, Eastern carpets and Renascence
bronzes; in fine, he had all the artist's desires as well as those of
the poet and _viveur_. He was constantly in dire need of cash and did
not hesitate to borrow fifty pounds from anyone who would lend it to
him. He was beginning to experience the truth of the old verse:
'Tis a very good world to live in,
To lend or to spend or to give in,
But to beg or to borrow or get a man's own,
'Tis the very worst world that ever was known.
The difficulties of life were constantly increasing upon him. He
despised bread and butter and talked only of champagne and caviare;
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