itself was merely material for art. He held the position Goethe had abandoned
in youth.

The view was astounding in England and new everywhere in its onesidedness.
Its passionate exaggeration, however, was quickening, and there is, of course,
something to be said for it. The artistic view of life is often higher than
the ordinary religious view; at least it does not deal in condemnations and
exclusions; it is more reasonable, more catholic, more finely perceptive.

"The artist's view of life is the only possible one," Oscar used to say,
"and should be applied to everything, most of all to religion and morality.
Cavaliers and Puritans are interesting for their costumes and not for their
convictions. . . .

"There is no general rule of health; it is all personal, individual. . . . .
I only demand that freedom which I willingly concede to others. No one
condemns another for preferring green to gold. Why should any taste be
ostracized? Liking and disliking are not under our control. I want to
choose the nourishment which suits "my" body and "my" soul."

I can almost hear him say the words with his charming humorous smile and
exquisite flash of deprecation, as if he were half inclined to make fun of
his own statement.

It was not his views on art, however, which recommended him to the aristocratic
set in London; but his contempt for social reform, or rather his utter
indifference to it, and his English love of inequality. The republicanism he
flaunted in his early verses was not even skin deep; his political beliefs and
prejudices were the prejudices of the English governing class and were all in
favour of individual freedom, or anarchy under the protection of the policeman.