But though he went out a great deal and met a great many distinguished people,
and won a certain popularity, his social success put no money in his purse.
It even forced him to spend money; for the constant applause of his hearers
gave him self-confidence. He began to talk more and write less, and cabs and
gloves and flowers cost money. He was soon compelled to mortgage his little
property in Ireland.

At the same time it must be admitted he was still indefatigably intent on
bettering his mind, and in London he found more original teachers than in
Oxford, notably Morris and Whistler. Morris, though greatly overpraised during
his life, had hardly any message for the men of his time. He went for his
ideals to an imaginary past and what he taught and praised was often totally
unsuited to modern conditions. Whistler on the other hand was a modern of the
moderns, and a great artist to boot: he had not only assimilated all the newest
thought of the day, but with the alchemy of genius had transmuted it and made it
his own. Before even the de Goncourts he had admired Chinese porcelain and
Japanese prints and his own exquisite intuition strengthened by Japanese example
had shown him that his impression of life was more valuable than any mere
transcript of it. Modern art he felt should be an interpretation and not a
representment of reality, and he taught the golden rule of the artist that the
half is usually more expressive than the whole. He went about London preaching
new schemes of decoration and another Renaissance of art. Had he only been a
painter he would never have exercised an extraordinary influence; but he was a
singularly interesting appearance as well and an admirable talker gifted with
picturesque phrases and a most caustic wit.

Oscar sat at his feet and imbibed as much as he could of the new aesthetic
gospel. He even ventured to annex some of the master's most telling stories
and thus came into conflict with his teacher.