years but talk. Critical observers began to make up their minds that he was a
talker and not a writer. "He was a power in the art," as de Quincey said of
Coleridge; "and he carried a new art into the power." Every year this gift grew
with him: every year he talked more and more brilliantly, and he was allowed
now, and indeed expected, to hold the table.

In London there is no such thing as conversation. Now and then one hears a
caustic or witty phrase, but nothing more. The tone of good society everywhere
is to be pleasant without being prominent. In every other European country,
however, able men are encouraged to talk; in England alone they are discouraged.
People in society use a debased jargon or slang, snobbish shibboleths for the
most part, and the majority resent any one man monopolising attention. But
Oscar Wilde was allowed this privileged position, was encouraged to hold forth
to amuse people, as singers are brought in to sing after dinner.

Though his fame as a witty and delightful talker grew from week to week, even
his marriage did not stifle the undertone of dislike and disgust. Now
indignantly, now with contempt, men spoke of him as abandoned, a creature of
unnatural viciousness. There were certain houses in the best set of London
society the doors of which were closed to him.




CHAPTER VI--OSCAR WILDE'S FAITH AND PRACTICE



From 1884 on I met Oscar Wilde continually, now at the theatre, now in some
society drawing room; most often, I think, at Mrs. Jeune's (afterwards Lady St.