Four Years-第3章

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t；　i　see　his　crippled　legs　as　though　he　were　some　vulcan　perpetually　forging　swords　for　other　men　to　use；　and　certainly　i　always　thought　of　c。。。；　a　fine　classical　scholar；　a　pale　and　seemingly　gentle　man；　as　our　chief　swordsman　and　bravo。

when　henley　founded　his　weekly　newspaper；　first　the　scots；　afterwards　the　national　observer；　this　young　man　wrote　articles　and　reviews　notorious　for　savage　wit；　and　years　afterwards　when　the　national　observer

was　dead；　henley　dying　&　our　cavern　of　outlaws　empty；　i　met　him　in　paris　very　sad　and　i　think　very　poor。

nobody　will　employ　me　now；　he　said。　your　master　is　gone；　i　answered；　and　you　are　like　the　spear　in　an　old　irish　story　that　had　to　be　kept　dipped　in　poppy？　juice　that　it　might　not　go　about　killing　people　on　its　own　account。　i　wrote　my　first　good　lyrics　and　tolerable　essays　for　the　national　obsever　and　as　i　always　signed　my　work　could　go　my　own　road　in　some　measure。　henley　often　revised　my　lyrics；　crossing　out　a　line　or　a　stanza　and　writing　in　one　of　his　own；　and　i　was　forted　by　my　belief　that　he　also　re？wrote　kipling　then　in　the　first　flood　of　popularity。　at　first；　indeed；　i　was　ashamed　of　being　re？written　and　thought　that　others　were　not；　and　only　began　investigation　when　the　editorial　characteristics？？epigrams；　archaisms　and　all？？appeared　in　the　article　upon　paris　fashions　and　in　that　upon　opium　by　an　egyptian　pasha。　i　was　not　pelled　to　full　conformity　for　verse　is　plainly　stubborn；　and　in　prose；　that　i　might　avoid　unacceptable　opinions；　i　wrote　nothing　but　ghost　or　fairy　stories；　picked　up　from　my　mother；　or　some　pilot　at　rosses　point；　and　henley　saw　that　i　must　needs　mix　a　palette　fitted　to　my　subject　matter。　but　if　he　had　changed　every　has　into　hath　i　would　have　let　him；　for　had　not　we　sunned　ourselves　in　his　generosity？　my　young　men　out？dome　and　they　write　better　than　i；　he　wrote　in　some　letter　praising　charles　whibleys　work；　and　to　another　friend　with　a　copy　of　my　man　who　dreamed　of　fairyland：　see　what　a　fine　thing　has　been　written　by　one　of　my　lads。

。。



Four　YearsVI

＊＝
my　first　meeting　with　oscar　wilde　was　an　astonishment。　i　never　before　heard　a　man　talking　with　perfect　sentences；　as　if　he　had　written　them　all　over　night　with　labour　and　yet　all　spontaneous。　there　was　present　that　night　at　henleys；　by　right　of　propinquity　or　of　accident；　a　man　full　of　the　secret　spite　of　dullness；　who　interrupted　from　time　to　time　and　always　to　check　or　disorder　thought；　and　i　noticed　with　what　mastery　he　was　foiled　and　thrown。　i　noticed；　too；　that　the　impression　of　artificiality　that　i　think　all　wildes　listeners　have　recorded；　came　from　the　perfect　rounding　of　the　sentences　and　from　the　deliberation　that　made　it　possible。

that　very　impression　helped　him　as　the　effect　of　metre；　or　of　the　antithetical　prose　of　the　seventeenth　century；　which　is　itself　a　true　metre；　helps　a　writer；　for　he　could　pass　without　incongruity　from　some　unforeseen　swift　stroke　of　wit　to　elaborate　reverie。　i　heard　him　say　a　few　nights　later：　give　me　〃the　winters　tale；〃　〃daffodils　that　e　before　the　swallow　dare〃　but　not　〃king　lear。〃　what　is　〃king　lear〃　but　poor　life　staggering　in　the　fog？　and　the　slow　cadence；　modulated　with　so　great　precision；　sounded　natural　to　my　ears。　that　first　night　he　praised　walter　paters　essays　on　the　renaissance：　it　is　my　golden　book；　i　never　travel　anywhere　without　it；　but　it　is　the　very　flower　of　decadence。　the　last　trumpet　should　have　sounded　the　moment　it　was　written。　but；

said　the　dull　man；　would　you　not　have　given　us　time　to　read　it？　oh　no；　was　the　retort；　there　would　have　been　plenty　of　time　afterwards？？in　either　world。　i　think　he　seemed　to　us；　baffled　as　we　were　by　youth；　or　by　infirmity；　a　triumphant　figure；　and　to　some　of　us　a　figure　from　another　age；　an　audacious　italian　fifteenth　century　figure。　a　few　weeks　before　i　had　heard　one　of　my　fathers　friends；　an　official　in　a　publishing　firm　that　had　employed　both　wilde　and　henley　as　editors；　blaming　henley　who　was　no　use　except　under　control　and　praising　wilde；　so　indolent　but　such　a　genius；　and　now　the　firm　became　the　topic　of　our　talk。　how　often　do　you　go　to　the　office？　said　henley。　i　used　to　go　three　times　a　week；　said　wilde；　for　an　hour　a　day　but　i　have　since　struck　off　one　of　the　days。　my　god；　said　henley；　i　went　five　times　a　week　for　five　hours　a　day　and　when　i　wanted　to　strike　off　a　day　they　had　a　special　mittee　meeting。　furthermore；　was　wildes　answer；　i　never　answered　their　letters。　i　have　known　men　e　to　london　full　of　bright　prospects　and　seen　them　plete　wrecks　in　a　few　months　through　a　habit　of　answering　letters。　he　too　knew　how　to　keep　our　elders　in　their　place；　and　his　method　was　plainly　the　more　successful　for　henley　had　been　dismissed。　no　he　is　not　an　aesthete；　henley　mented　later；　being　somewhat　embarrassed　by　wildes　pre？raphaelite　entanglement。

one　soon　finds　that　he　is　a　scholar　and　a　gentleman。　and　when　i　dined　with　wilde　a　few　days　afterwards　he　began　at　once；　i　had　to　strain　every　nerve　to　equal　that　man　at　all；　and　i　was　too　loyal　to　speak　my　thought：　you　&　not　he　said　all　the　brilliant　things。　he　like　the　rest　of　us　had　felt　the　strain　of　an　intensity　that　seemed　to　hold　life　at　the　point　of　drama。　he　had　said；　on　that　first　meeting；　the　basis　of　literary　friendship　is　mixing　the　poisoned　bowl；　and　for　a　few　weeks　henley　and　he　became　close　friends　till；　the　astonishment　of　their　meeting　over；　diversity　of　character　and　ambition　pushed　them　apart；　and；　with　half　the　cavern　helping；　henley　began　mixing　the　poisoned　bowl　for　wilde。　yet　henley　never　wholly　lost　that　first　admiration；　for　after　wildes　downfall　he　said　to　me：　why　did　he　do　it？　i　told　my　lads　to　attack　him　and　yet　we　might　havefought　under　his　banner。

。。



Four　YearsVII

？小｜说网
it　became　the　custom；　both　at　henleys　and　at　bedford　park；　to　say　that　r。　a。　m。　stevenson；　who　frequented　both　circles；　was　the　better　talker。　wilde　had　been　trussed　up　like　a　turkey　by　undergraduates；　dragged　up　and　down　a　hill；　his　champagne　emptied　into　the　ice　tub；　hooted　in　the　streets　of　various　towns　and　i　think　stoned；　and　no　newspaper　named　him　but　in　scorn；　his　manner　had　hardened　to　meet　opposition　and　at　times　he　allowed　one　to　see　an　unpardonable　insolence。　his　charm　was　acquired　and　systematised；　a　mask　which　he　wore　only　when　it　pleased　him；　while　the　charm　of　stevenson　belonged　to　him　like　the　colour　of　his　hair。　if　stevensons　talk　became　monologue　we　did　not　know　it；　because　our　one　object　was　to　show　by　our　attention　that　he　need　never　leave　off。　if　thought　failed　him　we　would　not　bat　what　he　had　said；　or　start　some　new　theme；　but　would　encourage　him　with　a　question；　and　one　felt　that　it　had　been　always　so　from　childhood　up。

his　mind　was　full　of　phantasy　for　phantasys　sake　and　he　gave　as　good　entertainment　in　monologue　as　his　cousin　robert　louis　in　poem　or　story。　he　was　always　supposing：　suppose　you　had　two　millions　what　would　you　do　with　it？　and　suppose　you　were　in　spain　and　in　love　how　would　you　propose？　i　recall　him　one　afternoon　at　our　house　at　bedford　park；　surrounded　by　my　brother　and　sisters　and　a　little　group　of　my　fathers　friends；　describing　proposals　in　half　a　dozen　countries。　there　your　father　did　it；　dressed　in　such　and　such　a　way　with　such　and　such　words；　and　there　a　friend　must　wait　for　the　lady　outside　the　chapel　door；　sprinkle　her　with　holy　water　and　say　my　friend　jones　is　dying　for　love　of　you。　but　when　it　was　over；　those　quaint　descriptions；　so　full　of　laughter　and　sympathy；　faded　or　remained　in　the　memory　as　something　alien　from　ones　own　life　like　a　dance　i　once　saw　in　a　great　house；　where　beautifully　dressed　children　wound　a　long　ribbon　in　and　out　as　they　danced。　i　was　not　of　stevensons　party　and　mainly　i　think　because　he　had　written　a　book　in　praise　of　velasquez；　praise　at　that　time　universal　wherever　pre？raphaelitism　was　accurst；　and　to　my　mind；　that　had　to　pick　its　symbols　where　its　ignorance　permitted；　velasquez　seemed　the　first　bored　celebrant　of　boredom。　i　was　convinced；　from　some　obscure　meditation；　that　stevensons　conversational　method　had　joined　him　to　my　elders　and　to　the　indifferent　world；　as　though　it　were　right　for　old　men；　and　unambitious　men　and　all　women；　to　be　content　with　charm　and　humour。　it　was　the　prerogative　of　youth　to　take　sides　and　when　wilde　said：　mr。　bernard　shaw　has　no　enemies　but　is　intensely　disliked　by　all　his　friends；　i　knew　it　to　be　a　phrase　i　should　never　forget；　and　felt　revenged　upon　a　notorious　hater　of　romance；　whose　generosity　and　courage　i　could　not　fathom。

　％％。



Four　YearsVIII

　小=＿说。网
i　saw　a　good　deal　of　wilde　at　that　time？？was　it　1887　or　1888？？？i　have　no　way　of　fixing　the　date　except　that　i　had　published　my　first　book　the　wanderings　of　usheen　and　that　wilde　had　not　yet　published　his　decay　of　lying。　he　had；　before　our　first　meeting；　reviewed　my　book　and　despite　its　vagueness　of　intention；　and　the　inexactness　of　its　speech；　praised　without　qualification；　and　what　was　worth　more　than　any　review　had　talked　about　it；　and　now　he　asked　me　to　eat　my　xmas　dinner　with　him；　believing；　i　imagine；　that　i　was　alone　in　london。

he　had　just　renounced　his　velveteen；　and　even　those　cuffs　turned　backward　over　the　sleeves；　and　had　begun　to　dress　very　carefully　in　the　fa