two or three people, I should have been worse off at Trinity than at Portora;
but Oxford--Oxford was paradise to me. My very soul seemed to expand within me
to peace and joy. Oxford--the enchanted valley, holding in its flowerlet cup
all the idealism of the middle ages. (Oscar was always fond of loosely quoting
or paraphrasing in conversation the purple passages from contemporary writers.
He said them exquisitely and sometimes his own embroidery was as good as
the original. This discipleship, however, always suggested to me a lack of
originality. In especial Matthew Arnold had an extraordinary influence upon
him, almost as great indeed as Pater.) Oxford is the capital of romance, Frank;
in its own way as memorable as Athens, and to me it was even more entrancing.
In Oxford, as in Athens, the realities of sordid life were kept at a distance.
No one seemed to know anything about money or care anything for it. Everywhere
the aristocratic feeling; one must have money, but must not bother about it.
And all the appurtenances of life were perfect: the food, the wine, the
cigarettes; the common needs of life became artistic symbols, our clothes even
won meaning and significance. It was at Oxford I first dressed in knee breeches
and silk stockings. I almost reformed fashion and made modern dress
aesthetically beautiful; a second and greater reformation, Frank. What a pity
it is that Luther knew nothing of dress, had no sense of the becoming. He had
courage but no fineness of perception. I'm afraid his neckties would always
have been quite shocking!" and he laughed charmingly.

"What about the inside of the platter, Oscar?"

"Ah, Frank, don't ask me, I don't know; there was no grossness, no coarseness;
but all delicate delights!

"'Fair passions and bountiful pities and loves without
pain,'" ("Stain," not "pain," in the original.)