works of the imagination must have appeared invincibly attractive. This
was, of course, the career Constant must already have chosen for himself,
that of a man of letters, and he must have begun to live it, at least in
anticipation, at this time. Whether the ‘careless dissipated style of life’ of
Wilde was directly responsible for Constant’s return to the gaming table is
open to doubt: Wilde’s active participation in the Speculative Society’s
meetings—he spoke in almost every debate—may on the contrary have
encouraged Constant’s own regular attendance and put off that evil day.
What Wilde did offer Constant was the friendship of a generous and clear-
sighted man who did not spare him positive criticism where it was needed.
We can see this in a recently published portrait of Constant in John
Wilde’s hand:
Character of H.B.Constant
By nation a Swiss, by inclination an Englishman, formed to acquire
new talents and improve those he already possesses, while, at the
same time, he neglects the first, and perverts the second. Feeling
the charms of friendship, and yet reasoning against his feelings, a
slave to the passion of love, yet varying perpetually in its objects,
constant in versatility, in inconsistency consistent. An affectation of
singularity forms a conspicuous feature of his character; and this,
tho at present attended with disadvantages, may in time prove
beneficial, since, if he continue in these sentiments, he must in the
end be a Christian. An Atheist professed, he maintains at the same
time the cause of Paganism, and while he spurns Jehovah cringes
before Jupiter, while he execrates the bigotry and laughs at the
follies of superstitious Christians, yet makes the vices of adulterous
Deities the subject of his panegyric and prostitutes his genius to
support the ridiculous mummeries of its Priests. In politics warm,
zealous, keen, invariable, he resembles an Englishman of the purest
times; and here, indeed, alone, we find an exception to his general
character. He seems, indeed, to have drawn freedom with his first
breath, and sucked the principles of liberty with the milk of his
Childhood. But it is impossible, in any respect but this, to pursue
him thro the endless mazes of his character. He outdoes even
Proteus himself. Now he is one thing, now another; your friend,
your foe; your advocate, your accuser; he supports you to day, pulls
you down to morrow; composes now a panegyric, now writes a
satyr; and yet what is strangest of all, to use a simile resembling
one in Helvetius, the basis of his character is still the same, for likeThe charms of friendship 55