"Of course I have heard most of the epigrams from you before, but you have put
them even better in this book."
"Do you think so, really?" he asked, smiling with pleasure.
It is worth notice that some of the epigrams in "Dorian Gray" were bettered
again before they appeared in his first play. For example, in "Dorian Gray"
Lord Henry Wotton, who is peculiarly Oscar's mouthpiece, while telling how he
had to bargain for a piece of old brocade in Wardour Street, adds, "nowadays
people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." In "Lady
Windermere's Fan" the same epigram is perfected, "The cynic is one who knows
the price of everything and the value of nothing."
Nearly all the literary productions of our time suffer from haste: one must
produce a good deal, especially while one's reputation is in the making, in
order to live by one's pen. Yet great works take time to form, and fine
creations are often disfigured by the stains of hurried parturition. Oscar
Wilde contrived to minimise this disability by talking his works before writing
them.
The conversation of Lord Henry Wotton with his uncle, and again at lunch when
he wishes to fascinate Dorian Gray, is an excellent reproduction of Oscar's
ordinary talk. The uncle wonders why Lord Dartmoor wants to marry an American
and grumbles about her people: "Has she got any?"
Lord Henry shook his head. "American girls are as clever at concealing their
parents as English women are at concealing their past," he said, rising to go.
"They are pork-packers, I suppose?"
"I hope so, Uncle George, for Dartmoor's sake. I am told that pork-packing is
the most lucrative profession in America, after politics."
All this seems to me delightful humour.
The latter part of the book, however, tails off into insignificance. The first
hundred pages held the result of months and months of Oscar's talk, the latter
half was written offhand to complete the story. "Dorian Gray" was the first
piece of work which proved that Oscar Wilde had at length found his true vein.
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