“Rengaines!”
Last night, at Prince’s Hall, Mr. Whistler made his first public appearance as a lecturer on Art.... There were some arrows... shot off... Pall Mall Gazette, Feb. 21, 1885. 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.... 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 Mallarmé!
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.