was asked: "Have you seen Oscar's latest?" And then the 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
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