And Alfred Douglas on his side was almost as powerfully attracted; he had inherited from his mother all her literary tastes—­and more:  he was already a master-poet with a singing faculty worthy to be compared with the greatest.  What wonder if he took this magical talker, with the luminous eyes and charming voice, and a range and play of thought beyond his imagining, for a world’s miracle, one of the Immortals.  Before he had listened long, I have been told, the youth declared his admiration passionately.  They were an extraordinary pair and were complementary in a hundred ways, not only in mind, but in character.  Oscar had reached originality of thought and possessed the culture of scholarship, while Alfred Douglas had youth and rank and beauty, besides being as articulate as a woman with an unsurpassable gift of expression.  Curiously enough, Oscar was as yielding and amiable in character as the boy was self-willed, reckless, obstinate and imperious.

Years later Oscar told me that from the first he dreaded Alfred Douglas’ aristocratic, insolent boldness: 

“He frightened me, Frank, as much as he attracted me, and I held away from him.  But he wouldn’t have it; he sought me out again and again and I couldn’t resist him.  That is my only fault.  That’s what ruined me.  He increased my expenses so that I could not meet them; over and over again I tried to free myself from him; but he came back and I yielded—­alas!”

Though this is Oscar’s later gloss on what actually happened, it is fairly accurate.  He was never able to realise how his meeting with Lord Alfred Douglas had changed the world to him and him to the world.  The effect on the harder fibre of the boy was chiefly mental:  to Alfred Douglas, Oscar was merely a quickening, inspiring, intellectual influence; but the boy’s effect on Oscar was of character and induced imitation.  Lord Alfred Douglas’ boldness gave Oscar outrecuidance, an insolent arrogance:  artist-like he tried to outdo his model in aristocratic disdain.  Without knowing the cause the change in Oscar astonished me again and again, and in the course of this narrative I shall have to notice many instances of it.

One other effect the friendship had of far-reaching influence.  Oscar always enjoyed good living; but for years he had had to earn his bread:  he knew the value of money; he didn’t like to throw it away; he was accustomed to lunch or dine at a cheap Italian restaurant for a few shillings.  But to Lord Alfred Douglas money was only a counter and the most luxurious living a necessity.  As soon as Oscar Wilde began to entertain him, he was led to the dearest hotels and restaurants; his expenses became formidable and soon outran his large earnings.  For the first time since I had known him he borrowed heedlessly right and left, and had, therefore, to bring forth play after play with scant time for thought.

Lord Alfred Douglas has declared recently: