nce's Hall, Mr. Whistler made his first public
appearance as a lecturer on Art.... There were some arrows ... shot
off ... and (O, _mea culpa!_) at dress reformers most of all.... That
an artist will find beauty in ugliness, _le beau dans l'horrible_, is
now a commonplace of the schools.... I differ entirely from Mr.
Whistler. An Artist is not an isolated fact; he is the resultant of a
certain _milieu_ and a certain _entourage_, and can no more be born of
a nation that is devoid of any sense of beauty than a fig can grow
from a thorn or a rose blossom from a thistle.... The poet is the
supreme Artist, for he is the master of colour and of form, and the
real musician besides, and is lord over all life and all arts; and so
to the poet beyond all others are these mysteries known; to Edgar
Allan Poe and Baudelaire, not to Benjamin West and Paul Delaroche....

OSCAR WILDE.

[Sidenote: _REFLECTION:_

It is not enough that our simple Sunflower thrive on his
"thistle"--he has now grafted Edgar Poe on the "rose"
tree of the early American Market in "a certain milieu"
of dry goods and sympathy; and "a certain entourage" of
worship and wooden nutmegs.

Born of a Nation, not absolutely "devoid of any sense of
beauty"--Their idol--cherished--listened to--and
understood!

Foolish Baudelaire!--Mistaken Mallarme!

[Illustration]]

_Tenderness in Tite Street_

_TO THE POET:_

[Sidenote: _The World._]

Oscar--I have read your exquisite article in the _Pall Mall_. Nothing
is more delicate, in the flattery of "the Poet" to "the Painter," than
the _naivete_ of "the Poet," in the choice of his Painters--Benjamin
West and Paul Delaroche!

You have pointed out that "the Painter's" mission is to find "_le beau
dans l'horrible_," and have left to "the Poet" the discovery of
_"l'horrible" dans "le beau"_!

Chelsea.

[Illustration]

_TO THE PAINTER:_

[Sidenote: _The World._]

Dear Butterfly--By the aid of a biographical dictionary, I made the
discovery that there were once two painters, called Benjamin West and
Paul Delaroche, who rashly lectured upon Art. As of their works
nothing at all remains, I conclude that they explained themselves
away.