asks for lunch is a glass of water
for the posy he carries about.”
Even when Whitman tries to
explain to her the “L’art pour
I’art” or “art for art’s sake” concept and Wilde’s Pre-Raphaelite
Brotherhood aestheticism, she
doesn’t buy it. “Suppose I were
to make a pie for you, Mr. Whitman, and instead of cutting you
a slice told you that ‘Oh no —
this pie is not for the eating. It is
‘complete in itself.’ I made it for
the purpose of being a beautiful, aesthetic pie.’”
Mickle Street doesn’t fall into
the trap of lionizing Wilde or
Whitman. Mary makes it quite
clear that “for all your fine words
and flowers I know you for what
you are, Mr. Walt Whitman: a
trouble to man and woman
both.” Whitman, unafraid of
her, also has a few choice terms
of endearment for her, “Mary,
don’t be a stubborn old goat,” or
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