ORCHIDS. 45 
to be a myth—we speak generally, and this point 
must be mentioned again. The “ Million” did not 
yet heed Mr. Williams’ invitation, but the Ten 
Thousand did, heartily. 
I take it that orchids meet a craving of the 
cultured soul which began to be felt at the moment 
when kindly powers provided means to satisfy it. 
People of taste, unless I err, are tiring of those 
conventional forms in which beauty has been pre- 
sented in all past generations. It may be an 
unhealthy sentiment, it may be absurd, but my 
experience is that it exists and must be taken into 
account. A picture, a statue, a piece of china, any 
work of art, is eternally the same, however charm- 
ing. The most one can do is to set it in different 
positions, different lights. Théophile Gautier 
declared in a moment of frank impatience that if 
the Transfiguration hung in his study, he would 
assuredly find blemishes therein after awhile— 
quite fanciful and baseless, as he knew, but such, 
nevertheless, as would drive him to distraction 
presently. I entertain a notion, which may appear 
very odd to some, that Gautier’s influence on the 
esthetic class of men has been more vigorous than 
that of any other teacher; thousands who never 
read a line of his writing are unconsciously inspired 
by him. The feeling that gave birth to his protest 
