One incident may find a place here.

The art critic of "The Times", Mr. Humphry Ward, had come to see an exhibition
of Whistler's pictures. Filled with an undue sense of his own importance, he
buttonholed the master and pointing to one picture said:

"That's good, first-rate, a lovely bit of colour; but that, you know," he went
on, jerking his finger over his shoulder at another picture, "that's bad,
drawing all wrong . . . bad!"

"My dear fellow," cried Whistler, "you must never say that this painting's good
or that bad, never! Good and bad are not terms to be used by you; but say, I
like this, and I dislike that, and you'll be within your right. And now come
and have a whiskey for you're sure to like that."

Carried away by the witty fling, Oscar cried:

"I wish I had said that."

"You will, Oscar, you will," came Whistler's lightning thrust.

Of all the personal influences which went to the moulding of Oscar Wilde's
talent, that of Whistler, in my opinion, was the most important; Whistler taught
him that men of genius stand apart and are laws unto themselves; showed him,
too, that all qualities--singularity of appearance, wit, rudeness even, count
doubly in a democracy. But neither his own talent nor the bold self-assertion
learned from Whistler helped him to earn money; the conquest of London seemed
further off and more improbable than ever. Where Whistler had missed the laurel
how could he or indeed anyone be sure of winning?