As soon as he reached London he stepped boldly into the limelight, going to all “first nights” and taking the floor on all occasions.  He was not only an admirable talker but he was invariably smiling, eager, full of life and the joy of living, and above all given to unmeasured praise of whatever and whoever pleased him.  This gift of enthusiastic admiration was not only his most engaging characteristic, but also, perhaps, the chief proof of his extraordinary ability.  It was certainly, too, the quality which served him best all through his life.  He went about declaring that Mrs. Langtry was more beautiful than the “Venus of Milo,” and Lady Archie Campbell more charming than Rosalind and Mr. Whistler an incomparable artist.  Such enthusiasm in a young and brilliant man was unexpected and delightful and doors were thrown open to him in all sets.  Those who praise passionately are generally welcome guests and if Oscar could not praise he shrugged his shoulders and kept silent; scarcely a bitter word ever fell from those smiling lips.  No tactics could have been more successful in England than his native gift of radiant good-humour and enthusiasm.  He got to know not only all the actors and actresses, but the chief patrons and frequenters of the theatre:  Lord Lytton, Lady Shrewsbury, Lady Dorothy Nevill, Lady de Grey and Mrs. Jeune; and, on the other hand, Hardy, Meredith, Browning, Swinburne, and Matthew Arnold—­all Bohemia, in fact, and all that part of Mayfair which cares for the things of the intellect.

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 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.