lks at the Tuileries" often
launched as a rite the sacred eagles to study the omens and presages.
He was firmly convinced of this. After the termination of the trying
visit Baudelaire, with acrid irony, asks himself why he, with his
nerves usually unstrung, did not go quite mad, and he concludes,
"Seriously I addressed to Heaven the grateful prayers of a pharisee."

In March the same year he assures the same correspondent that
decidedly Meryon does not know how to conduct himself. He knows
nothing of life, neither does he know how to sell his plates or find
an editor. His work is very easy to sell. Baudelaire was hardly a
practical business man, but, like Poe, he had sense enough to follow
his market. He instantly recognised the commercial value of Meryon's
Paris set, but knew the etcher was a hopeless character. He wrote to
Poulet-Malassis concerning a proposed purchase of Meryon's work by the
publisher. It never came to anything. The etcher was very suspicious
as to paper and printing. He grew violent when the poet asked him to
illustrate some little poems and sonnets. Had he, Meryon, not written
poems himself? Had not the mighty Victor Hugo addressed flattering
words to him? Baudelaire, without losing interest, then thought of
Daumier as an illustrator for a new edition of Les Fleurs du Mal. It
must not be supposed, however, that Meryon was ungrateful. He was
deeply affected by the praise accorded him in Baudelaire's Salon of
1859. He wrote in February, 1860, sending his Views of Paris to the
critic as a feeble acknowledgment of the pleasure he had enjoyed when
reading the brilliant interpretative criticism. He said that he had
created an epoch in etching--which was the literal truth--and he had
saved a rapidly vanishing Paris for the pious curiosity of future
generations. He speaks of his "naive heart" and hoped that Baudelaire
in turn would dream as he did over the plates. This letter was signed
simply "Meryon, 20 Rue Duperre." The acute accent placed over the "e"
in his name by the French poet and by biographers, critics, and
editors since was never used by the etcher. It took years before
Baudelaire could persuade the Parisians that Poe did not spell his
name "Edgard Poe." And we remember the fate of Liszt and Whistler, who
were until recently known in Paris as "Litz" and "Whistler." With the
aid of Champfleury and Banville, Baudelaire tried to bring Meryon's
art to the cognisance of the Minister of Beaux-Arts, b