others upon whom he had no claim, helped him liberally; but even large
sums slipped through his careless fingers like water.
[23] Cfr. Appendix: "Criticisms by Robert Ross."
[24] One of the prettiest daughters of the game to be found in Paris at
the time.
CHAPTER XXI
The more I considered the matter, the more clearly I saw, or thought I
saw, that the only chance of salvation for Oscar was to get him to work,
to give him some purpose in life, and the reader should remember here
that at this time I had not read "De Profundis" and did not know that
Oscar in prison had himself recognised this necessity. After all, I said
to myself, nothing is lost if he will only begin to write. A man should
be able to whistle happiness and hope down the wind and take despair to
his bed and heart, and win courage from his harsh companion. Happiness
is not essential to the artist: happiness never creates anything but
memories. If Oscar would work and not brood over the past and study
himself like an Indian Fakir, he might yet come to soul-health and
achievement. He could win back everything; his own respect, and the
respect of his fellows, if indeed that were worth winning. An artist, I
knew, must have at least the self-abnegation of the hero, and heroic
resolution to strive and strive, or he will never bring it far even in
his art. If I could only get Oscar to work, it seemed to me everything
might yet come right. I spent a week with him, lunching and dining and
putting all this before him, in every way.
I noticed that he enjoyed the good eating and the good drinking as
intensely as ever. He was even drinking too much I thought, was
beginning to get stout and flabby again, but the good living was a
necessity to him, and it certainly did not prevent him from talking
charmingly. But as soon as I pressed him to write he would shake his
head:
"Oh, Frank, I cannot, you know my rooms; how could I write there? A
horrid bedroom like a closet, and a little sitting room without any
outlook. Books everywhere; and no place to write; to tell you the truth
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