ontent with ethical appreciation. There he is impregnable.

Mr. Cobban opens badly by describing my letter, setting Mr. Whibley right
on a matter of fact, as an 'impudent paradox.' The term 'impudent' is
meaningless, and the word 'paradox' is misplaced. I am afraid that
writing to newspapers has a deteriorating influence on style. People get
violent and abusive and lose all sense of proportion, when they enter
that curious journalistic arena in which the race is always to the
noisiest. 'Impudent paradox' is neither violent nor abusive, but it is
not an expression that should have been used about my letter. However,
Mr. Cobban makes full atonement afterwards for what was, no doubt, a mere
error of manner, by adopting the impudent paradox in question as his own,
and pointing out that, as I had previously said, the artist will always
look at the work of art from the standpoint of beauty of style and beauty
of treatment, and that those who have not got the sense of beauty, or
whose sense of beauty is dominated by ethical considerations, will always
turn their attention to the subject-matter and make its moral import the
test and touchstone of the poem or novel or picture that is presented to
them, while the newspaper critic will sometimes take one side and
sometimes the other, according as he is cultured or uncultured. In fact,
Mr. Cobban converts the impudent paradox into a tedious truism, and, I
dare say, in doing so does good service.

The English public likes tediousness, and likes things to be explained to
it in a tedious way.

Mr. Cobban has, I have no doubt, already repented of the unfortunate
expression with which he has made his debut, so I will say no more about
it. As far as I am concerned he is quite forgiven.

And finally, Sir, in taking leave of the Scots Observer I feel bound to
make a candid confession to you.

It has been suggested to me by a great friend of mine, who is a charming
and distinguished man of letters, and not unknown to you personally, that
there have been really only two people engaged in this terrible
controversy, and that those two people are the editor of the Scots
Observer and the author of Dorian Gray. At dinner this evening, over
some excellent Chianti, my friend insisted that under assumed and
mysterious names you had simply given dramatic expression to the views of
some of the semi-educated classes of our community, and that the letters
signed 'H.' were your own skilful,