! ! T 1 i THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES Chelsea PUBLISHER'S NOTE In the presence of a continued attempt to issue a spurious and garbled version of Mr. Whistler's writings, the Publisher has obtained his permission to bring out the present volume, printed under his own immediate care and supervision. AN EXTRAORDINARY PIRATICAL PLOT A most curiously luell-concocted piratical scheme to publish, without his knowledge or consent, a complete collection of Mr, Whistler's writinfrs, letters, pamphlets, lectures, &c., " Amtrican Regis- * ' ' r r ' „ p^^^ March has been nipped in the hud on the wry eve of its accom. *. 1890. plishment. It appears that the book was actually in type and ready for issue, but the plan was to bring out the work simultaneously in England and America. This caused delay, the plates having to be shipped to New York, and the strain of secrecy upon the conspirators during the interval would seem to have been too great. In any case indi- cations of surrounding mystery, quite sufficient to arouse Mr, Whistler s attention, brought about his rapid action, Messrs, Lewis and Le^vis were instructed to take out imme- diate injunction against the publication in both England and America, and this information, at once cabled across, warning all publishers in the United States, exploded the plot, effectually frustrating the elaborate machinations of those engaged in it. SEIZURE OF MR WHISTLER'S PIRATED WRITINGS This pirated collection of letters, wrltltigs, &c., to whose frustrated publication In this country and America we H^aid^'lmdon ^'^'"^ already alluded, was seized in Antwerp, at the Edition, March 23, . , „ . , 1890. printers , on rrtday last — the -very day of its contracted delivery. The persistent and really desperate speculator in this volume of difficult birth, baffled In his attempt to produce it in London and New York, had been tracked to Antwerp by Messrs. Lewis and Lewis ; and he was finally brought down by Maltre Maeterlinck, the distinguished lawyer of that city. rHE EXPLODED PLOT IVitk regard to this matter, to •which ive haw already alluded on a pre^vious occasion, Messrs. Lewis and Leivis have received the folloiving letter from Messrs. Field and Tuer, of the Leadenhall Press, dated March 25, paii Mall _ Gasette" March 2 1890 : — 1890. " JVe have seen the paragraph in yesterdafs ' Pall Mall Gazette ' relating to the publication of Mr. Whistler'' s letters. Tou may like to knoiv that ive recently put into type for a certain person a series of Mr, Whistler s letters and other matter, taking it for granted that Mr. Whistler had given permission. Quite recently, hoivever, and fortunately in time to stop the work being printed, ive ivere told that Mr. Whistler objected to his letters being published. We then sent for the person in question, and told him that until he obtained Mr. Whistler^s sanction ive declined to proceed further ivith the work, which, we may tell you, is finished and cast ready for printing, and the type distributed. From the time of this interview we have not seen or heard from the person in question, and there the matter rests." MR. WHISrLER'S PAPER HUNT The fruitlcii attempt to publish •without his consent, or rather in spite of his opposition, the collected writings of Mr. Whistler has developed into a species of chase from "Sunday Times" press to press, and from country to country. With an ex- March sp, 1890. traordinary fatality, the unfortunate fugitive has been in- variably allowed to reach the wry verge of achievement before he was surprised by the long arm of Messrs, Lewis and Lewis. Each defeat has been consequently attended with infinite loss of labour, material and money. Our readers have been told how the London wnture came to nought, and how it was frustrated in America. The venue was then changed, and Belgium, us a neutral ground, was supposed possible ; but here again, on the very day of its delivery, the edition of 1000 vols, was seized by M. le Procureur du Ro!, and under the nose of the astounded and discomfited speculator, the packed and corded bales, of which he was about to take possession, were carried off in the Government van ! The upshot »f the untiring efforts of this persistent adventurer at length results in furnishing Mr. Whistler with the first and only copy of this curious work, which was certainly anything but the intention of its compiler, who clearly, judging from its contents, had reserved for him an unpleasing if not crushing surprise I A GREAT LITERARY CURIOSITY I ha-ve to-day seen the print ed book itself of the Collected fVritings of Mr. Whhtler, -whose publication has proved so comically impossible. The style of the preface and accessory Ga^ctt^-'^March comments is in the worst style of Western editorship ; -while the disastrous effect of Mr. Whistler's literature upon the one -who has burned his fingers -with it, is amusingly sho-wn. In the index occur such -well-known names as Mr. J. C. Horsley, R.A., Mr. Labouchere, Mr. Ruskin, Mr. Linley Samhourne, Mr. Swinburne, Tom Taylor, Mr. Frith, and Rossetti. The famous catalogue of the " Second Exhibi- tion of Venice Etchings, February 19, 1883," in which Mr, Whistler quotes the critics, is also gi-ven. A LAST EFFORT We hear that a third attempt has been made to produce " Pall Matt ^^'^ pirated copy of Mr. JVhlstkrs collected writings. j^Zf'^' Messrs. Lewis and Lewis haw at once taken legal steps to stop the edition [printed In Paris) at the Customs. A cablegram has been recel-ved by Mr. Whistler s solicitors stating that Messrs, Stokes s name has been affixed to the title-page of the pirated book without the sanction of those publishers. THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES AS PLEASINGLY EXEMPLIFIED IN MANY INSTANCES, WHEREIN THE SERIOUS ONES OF THIS EARTH, CAREFULLY EXASPERATED, HAVE BEEN PRETTILY SPURRED ON TO UNSEEMLINESS AND INDISCRETION, WHILE OVERCOME BY AN UNDUE SENSE OF RIGHT LONDON MDCCCXC ff^LLIAM HEINEMANN Rights of Translation and Reproduction resei-ved. 6ETT\' CENTER LIBRARY To The rare Few, ivio, early in h'lfe, have rid Themsel-ves of the Friendship of the Many, these pathetic Papers are inscribed Messieurs les Ennemis/" Prologue " J70E Mr. Whistler's own sake, no less than for the Ri°skTni^F r r March 34, 1886, To the Electors of the Slade Professor of Fine Art "for the University of Cambridge. — My Lord and " Gentlemen, — I beg to submit my name as a candidate " for the Slade Professorship, and enclose herewith a " few testimonials. . . I have also received favourable "letters from the following gentlemen . . , Alma- " Tadema, R.A., Marcus Stone, R.A., Briton Riviere, " R.A., John Brett, A.R.A., ... and others." What ! is the Immaculate impure ?— and shall the Academy have coquetted with the unclean 1 Had Alma the classic aught in common with this 'Arry of commerce ? Believe him not, Atlus ! 122 THE GENTLE ART O Alma ! 0 Ichabod ! forgive us the thought of it ! Surely also the pots of " the Forty " do boil before the Lord, and the flames of the chosen were unfanned by the feather of 'Arry's goose-quill. Again : " My experience in art matters has been briefly as " follows : " I have worked at the subject continually in Italy, " having for that purpose travelled and stayed in that " country — at least a dozen times. I have also painted "in France, Germany, and Belgium, in which last- " mentioned country I was in a portrait painter's " studio." — (A portrait by 'Arry !) "There are several pictures of mine being exhibited " in London at the present time." (! ! !) " I have also executed a good deal of distemper. . . . "I have also travelled for a year in the East." ('Arry in the East ! !) " I have had, as a lecturer upon Art, considerable " experience — at working men's clubs — . . . and at " the Rev. Stopford A. Brooke's College for men, " women, and children. " For the last ten years I have written every article " upon art which has appeared in the Spectator news- " paper " — a confession, Atlas, clearly a confession ! " In 1880, I wrote a critical life of Giotto " — he did OF MAKING ENEMIES 123 indeed, Atlas ! — I saw it — a book in blue — his own, and Reckitt's — all bold with brazen letters : " GIOTTO BY 'aRRY " — " of which two editions were published " — bless him — and then I killed him ! and, " I am, Gentlemen, " Your most obedient servant, " 'ARRY, M.A. " Trin. Coll. Camb., Esquire." The pride of it ! 124 THE GENTLE ART Sacrilege Q ATLAS ! What of the " Society for the Preser- vation of Beautiful Buildings " ? Where is Buskin ? and what do Morris and Sir upon the AUera tions of the '* \\ lii William Drake? For, behold ! beside the Thames, the work of dese- Tht World, cration continues, and the "White House" swarms Oct. 17, 1883. with the mason of contract. The architectural galhe, that was the joy of the few, and the bedazement of *' the Board," crumbles beneath the pick, as did the north side of St. Mark's, and history is wiped from the face of Chelsea. Shall no one interfere ? Shall the interloper, even after his death, prevail 1 Shall 'Arry, whom I have hewn down, still live among us by outrage of this kind, and impose his memory upon our pavement by the public perpetration of his posthumous philistinism ? OF MAKING ENEMIES 125 Shall the birthplace of art become the tomb oF its parasite in Tite Street ? See to it, Atlas ! lest, when Time, the healer of all the wounds I have inflicted, shall for me have exacted those honours the prophet may not expect while alive, and the inevitable blue disc, imbedded in the walls, shall proclaim that " Here once dwelt " the gentle Master of all that is flippant and fine in Art, some anxious student, reading, fall out with Providence in his vain effort to reconcile such joyous reputation with the dank and hopeless appearance of this " model lodging," bequeathed to the people by the arrogance of 'Arry. 126 THE GENTLE ART The Red Rag "^Y^HY should not I call my works " symphonies," " arranfirements," " harmonies," and '* nocturnes " ? I ne trorid, ° ' ' May 2a, 1878. know that many good people think my nomenclature funny and myself '* eccentric." Yes, "eccentric" is the adjective they find for me. The vast majority of English folk cannot and will not consider a picture as a picture, apart from any story which it may be supposed to tell. My picture of a *^ Harmony in Grey and Gold " is an illustration of my meaning — a snow scene with a single black figure and a lighted tavern. I care nothing for the past, present, or future of the black figure, placed there because the black was wanted at that spot . All that I know is that my combination of grey and gold is the basis of the picture. Now this is pre- cisely what my friends cannot grasp. They say, " Why not call it ' Trotty Veck,' and sell it for a round harmony of golden guineas ? " — naively acknowledging that, without baptism, there is no . . . . market! OF MAKING ENEMIES 127 But even commercially this stocking of your shop with the goods of another would be indecent — custom alone has made it dignified. Not even the popularity of Dickens should be invoked to lend an adventitious aid to art of another kind from his. I should hold it a vulgar and meretricious trick to excite people about Trotty Yeck when, if they really could care for pic- torial art at all, they would know that the picture should have its own merit, and not depend upon dramatic, or legendary, or local interest. As music is the poetry of sound, so is painting the poetry of sight, and the subject-matter has nothing to do with harmony of sound or of colour. The great musicians knew this. Beethoven and the rest wrote music — simply music; symphony in this key, concerto or sonata in that. On F or G they constructed celestial harmonies — as harmonies — as combinations, evolved from the chords of F or G and their minor correlatives. This is pvire music as distinguished from airs — commonplace and vulgar in themselves, but interest- ing from their associations, as, for instance, "Yankee Doodle," or "Partant pour la Syrie." Art should be independent of all clap-trap — should stand alone, and appeal to the artistic sense of eye or ear, without confounding this with emotions entirely foreign to it, as devotion, pity, love, patriotism, and 128 THE GENTLE ART the like. All these have no kind of concern with it and that is why I insist on calling my works " ari-ange- ments " and " harmonies." Take the picture of my mother, exhibited at the Eoyal Academy as an " Arrangement in Grey and Black." Now that is what it is. To me it is in- teresting as a picture of my mother ; but what can or ought the public to care about the identity of the portrait ? The imitator is a poor kind of creature. If the man who paints only the tree, or flower, or other surface he sees before him were an artist, the king of artists would be the photographer. It is for the artist to do something beyond this : in portrait painting to put on canvas something more than the face the model wears for that one day ; to paint the man, in short, as well as his features ; in arrangement of colours to treat a flower as his key, not as his model. This is now understood indifferently well— at least by dressmakers. In every costume you see attention is paid to the key-note of colour which runs through the composition, as the chant of the Anabaptists through the PropMte,' or the Huguenots' hymn in the opera of that name. OF MAKING ENEMIES 129 A Rebuke ^0 Birmingham election, no Chamberlain speech, no Reynolds or Dispatch article, could bring the Tktmria. . . Dec. 9, 1885 aristocracy more strongly into ridicule and con- tempt than does the coarsely coloui-ed cartoon of " Newmarket " accompanying the winter number of Vanity Fair. From it one learns that the Dukes, Duchesses, and turf persons generally, frequent- ing the Heath, are a set of blob-headed stumpy dwarfs ATLAS. THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES " Les points sur les i " J AGEEE with you, 0 Atlas of ages, that complete- ness is a reason for ceasing to exist; but even indigna- ne ivorid^ tion might be less vague than is your righteous anger at Vanity s Christmas cartoon. Surely you might have helped the people, who scarcely distinguish between the original and impudent imitation, to know that this faded leaf is not from the book of Carlo Pellegrini, the master who has taught them all — that they can never learn ? MR. WHISTLERS « TEN a CLOCK London, 1888 Dell'vered in London Feb. 10, 1885 yit Cambridge March ■24 Oxford April 30 THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES 135 Ladies and Gentlemen : It is with great hesitation and much misgiving that I appear before you, in the character of The Preacher. If timidity be at all allied to the virtue modesty, and can find favour in your eyes, I pray you, for the sake of that virtue, accord me your utmost indul- gence. I would plead for my want of habit, did it not seem preposterous, judging from precedent, that aught save the most efficient effrontery could be ever expected in connection with my subject — for I will not conceal from you that I mean to talk about Ai-t. Yes, Art — that has of late become, as far as much discussion and writing can make it, a sort of common topic for the tea-table. Art is upon the Town ! — to be chucked under the chin by the passing gallant — to be enticed within the gates of the householder — to be coaxed into company, as a proof of culture and refinement. 136 THE GENTLE ART If familiarity can breed contempt, certainly Art — or what is currently taken for it— has been brought to its lowest stage of intimacy. The people have been harassed with Art in every guise, and vexed with many methods as to its en- durance. They have been told how they shall love Art, and live with it. Their homes have been invaded, their walls covered with paper, their very dress taken to task — until, roused at last, bewildered and filled with the doubts and discomforts of senseless suggestion, they resent such intrusion, and cast forth the false prophets, who have brought the very name of the beautiful into disrepute, and derision upon themselves. Alas ! ladies and gentlemen, Art has been maligned. She has naught in common with such practices. She is a goddess of dainty thought — reticent of habit, abjuring all obtrusiveness, purposing in no way to better others. She is, withal, selfishly occupied with her own pei*- fection only — having no desire to teach — seeking and finding the beautiful in all conditions and in all times, as did her high priest Rembrandt, when he saw picturesque grandeur and noble dignity in the Jews' quarter of Amsterdam, and lamented not that its inhabitants were not Greeks. OF MAKING ENEMIES 137 As did Tintoret and Paul Veronese, among the Venetians, while not halting to change the brocaded silks for the classic draperies of Athens. As did, at the Court of Philip, Velasquez, whose Infantas, clad in insesthetic hoops, are, as works of Art, of the same quality as the Elgin marbles. No reformers were these great men — no improvers of the way of others ! Their productions alone were their occupation, and, filled with the poetry of their science, they required not to alter their surroundings —for, as the laws of their Art were revealed to them they saw, in the development of their work, that real beauty which, to them, was as much a matter of cer- tainty and triumph as is to the astronomer the veinfication of the result, foreseen with the light given to him alone. In all this, their world was completely severed from that of their fellow-creatures with whom sentiment is mistaken for poetry ; and for whom there is no perfect work that shall not be explained by the benefit conferred upon themselves. Humanity takes the place of Art, and God's creations are excused by their usefulness. Beauty is confounded with virtue, and, before a work of Art, it is asked : " What good shall it do ? " Hence it is that nobility of action, in this life, is hopelessly linked with the merit of the work that 138 THE GENTLE ART portrays it; and thus the people have acquired the habit of looking, as who should say, not at a picture, but through it, at some human fact, that shall, or shall not, from a social point of view, better their mental or moral state. So we have come to hear of the painting that elevates, and of the duty of the painter — of the picture that is full of thought, and of the panel that merely decorates. A favourite faith, dear to those who teach, is that certain periods were especially artistic, and that nations, readily named, were notably lovers of Art. So we are told that the Greeks were, as a people, worshippers of the beautiful, and that in the fifteenth century Art was engrained in the multitude. That the great masters lived in common under- standing with their patrons — that the early Italians were artists — all — and that the demand for the lovely thing produced it. That we, of to-day, in gross contrast to this Arcadian purity, call for the ungainly, and obtain the ugly. That, could we but change our habits and climate — were we willing to wander in groves — could we be OF MAKING ENEMIES 139 roasted out of broadcloth — were we to do without haste, and journey without speed, we should again require the spoon of Queen Anne, and pick at our peas with the fork of two prongs. And so, for the flock, little hamlets grow near Hammersmith, and the steam horse is scorned. Useless ! quite hopeless and false is the eflbrt ! — built upon fable, and all because "a wise man has uttered a vain thing and filled his belly with the East wind." Listen ! There never was an artistic period. There never was an Art-loving nation. In the beginning, man went forth each day — some to do battle, some to the chase ; others, again, to dig and to delve in the field — all that they might gain and live, or lose and die. Until there was found among them one, difiering from the rest, whose pursuits attracted him not, and so he stayed by the tents with the women, and traced strange devices with a burnt stick upon a gourd. This man, who took no joy in the ways of his brethren — who cared not for conquest, and fretted in the field — this designer of quaint patterns — this deviser of the beautiful — who perceived in Nature about him curious curvings, as faces are seen in the fire — this dreamer apart, was the first artist. I40 THE GENTLE ART And when, from the field and from afar, there came back the people, they took the gourd — and drank from out of it. And presently there came to this man another — and, in time, others — of like nature, chosen by the Gods — and so they worked together ; and soon they fashioned, from the moistened earth, forms resembling the gourd. And with the power of creation, the heirloom of the artist, presently they went beyond the slovenly suggestion of Nature, and the first vase was born, in beautiful proportion. And the toilers tilled, and Avei-e athirst ; and the heroes returned from fresh victories, to rejoice and to feast ; and all drank alike from the artists' goblets, fashioned cunningly, taking no note the while of the craftsman's pride, and understanding not his glory in his work ; drinking at the cup, not from choice, not from a consciousness that it was beautiful, but because, forsooth, there was none other ! And time, with more state, brought more capacity for luxury, and it became well that men should dwell in large houses, and rest upon couches, and eat at tables; whereupon the artist, with his artificers, built palaces, and filled them with furniture, beautiful in proportion and lovely to look upon. And the people lived in marvels of art— -and ate and OF MAKING ENEMIES 141 drank out of masterpieces — for there was nothing else to eat and to drink out of, and no bad building to live in ; no article of daily life, of luxury, or of necessity, that had not been handed down from the design of the master, and made by his work- men. And the people questioned not, and Imd nothing to say in the matter. So Greece was in its splendour, and Art reigned supreme— by force of fact, not by election— and there was no meddling from the outsider. The mighty warrior would no more have ventured to offer a design for the temple of Pallas Athene than would the sacred poet have proffered a plan for constructing the catapult. And the Amateur was unknown — and the Dilettante undreamed of ! And history wrote on, and conquest accompanied civilisation, and Art spread, or rather its products were carried by the victors among the vanquished from one country to another. And the customs of cultivation covered the face of the earth, so that all peoples continued to use what the artist alone produced. And centuries passed in this using, and the world was flooded with all that was beautiful, until there 142 THE GENTLE ART arose a new class, who discovered the cheap, and fore- saw fortune in the facture of the sham. Then sprang into existence the tawdry, the common, the gewgaw. The taste of the tradesman supplanted the science of the artist, and wliat was born of the million went back to them, and charmed them, for it was after their own heart ; and the great and the small, the statesman and the slave, took to themselves the abomination that was tendered, and preferred it — and have lived with it ever since ! And the artist's occupation was gone, and the manufacturer and the huckster took his place. And now the heroes filled from the jugs and drank from the bowls — with understanding — noting the glare of their new bravery, and taking pride in its worth. And the people — this time — had much to say in the matter — and all were satisfied. And Birmingham and Manchester arose in their might — and Art was relegated to the curiosity shop. Nature contains the elements, in colour and form, of all pictures, as the keyboard contains the notes of all music. OF MAKING ENEMIES 143 But the artist is born to pick, and choose, and group with science, these elements, that the result may be beautiful — as the musician gathers his notes, and forms his chords, until he bring forth from chaos glorious harmony. To say to the painter, that Nature is to be taken as she is, is to say to the player, that he may sit on the piano. That Nature is always right, is an assertion, artistically, as untrue, as it is one whose truth is universally taken for granted. Nature is very rarely right, to such an extent even, that it might almost be said that Nature is usually wrong : that is to say, the condition of things that shall bring about the perfec- tion of harmony worthy a picture is rare, and not common at all. This would seem, to even the most intelligent, a doctrine almost blasphemous. So incorporated with our education has the supposed aphorism become, that its belief is held to be part of our moral being, and the words themselves have, in our ear, the ring of religion. Still, seldom does Nature succeed in producing a picture. The sun blares, the wind blows from the east, the sky is bereft of cloud, and without, all is of iron. The windows of the Crystal Palace are seen from 144 T^HE GENTLE ART all points of London. The holiday-maker rejoices in the glorious day, and the painter turns aside to shut his eyes. How little this is understood, and how dutifully the casual in Nature is accepted as sublime, may be gathered from the unlimited admiration daily produced by a very foolish sunset. The dignity of the snow-capped mountain is lost in distinctness, but the joy of the tourist is to recognise the traveller on the top. The desire to see, for the sake of seeing, is, with the mass, alone the one to be gratified, hence the delight in detail. And when the evening mist clothes the riverside with poetry, as with a veil, and the poor buildings lose themselves in the dim sky, and the tall chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses are palaces in the night, and the whole city hangs in the heavens, and fairy-land is before us — then the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of pleasure, cease to understand, as they have ceased to see, and Nature, who, for once, has sung in tune, sings her exquisite song to the artist alone, her son and her master — her son in that he loves her, her master in that he knows her. To him her secrets are unfolded, to him hei' lessons OF MAKING ENEMIES 145 have become gradually clear. He looks at her flower, not with the enlarging lens, that he may gather facts for the botanist, but with the light of the one who sees in her choice selection of brilliant tones and delicate tints, suggestions of future harmonies. He does not confine himself to purposeless copying, without thought, each blade of grass, as commended by the inconsequent, but, in the long curve of the narrow leaf, corrected by the straight tall stem, he learns how grace is wedded to dignity, how strength enhances sweetness, that elegance shall be the result. In the citron wing of the pale butterfly, with its dainty spots of orange, he sees before him the stately halls of fair gold, with their slender saffron pillars, and is taught how the delicate drawing high upon the walls shall be traced in tender tones of orpiment, and repeated by the base in notes of graver hue. In all that is dainty and lovable he fi.nds hints for his own combinations, and thus is Nature ever his resource and always at his service, and to him is naught refused. Through his brain, as through the last alembic, is distilled the refined essence of that thought which began with the Gods, and which they left him to carry out. K 146 THE GENTLE ART Set apart by them to complete their works, he pro- duces that wondrous thing called the masterpiece, which surpasses in perfection all that they have contrived in what is called Nature; and the Gods stand by and marvel, and perceive how far away more beautiful is the Yenus of Melos than was their own Eve. For some time past, the unattached writer has become the middleman in this matter of Art, and his influence, while it has widened the gulf between the people and the painter, has brought about the most complete misunderstanding as to the aim of the pic- ture. For him a picture is more or less a hieroglyph or symbol of story. Apart from a few technical terms, for the display of which he finds an occasion, the work is considered absolutely from a literary point of view ; indeed, from what other can he consider it ? And in his essays he deals with it as with a novel-a history —or an anecdote. He fails entirely and most natur- ally to see its excellences, or demerits— artistic— and so degrades Art, by supposing it a method of bringing about a literary climax. OF MAKING ENEMIES ' 147 It thus, in his hands, becomes merely a means of perpetrating something further, and its mission is made a secondary one, even as a means is second to an end. The thoughts emphasised, noble or other, are inevit- ably attached to the incident, and become more or less noble, according to the eloquence or mental quality of the writer, who looks the while, with disdain, upon what he holds as " mere execution " — a matter belonging, he behoves, to the training of the schools, and the reward of assiduity. So that, as he goes on with his translation from canvas to paper, the work becomes his own. He finds poetry where he would feel it were he himself transcribing the event, inven- tion in the intricacy of the mise en scene, and noble philosophy in some detail of philanthropy, courage, modesty, or virtue, suggested to him by the occur- rence. All this might be brought before him, and his imagination be appealed to, by a very poor picture — indeed, I might safely say that it generally is. Meanwhile, the painter's poetry is quite lost to him — the amazing invention that shall have put form and colour into such perfect harmony, that exquisite- ness is the result, he is without understanding — the nobility of thought, that shall have given the 148 THE GENTLE ART artist's dignity to the whole, says to him absolutely nothing. So that his praises are published, for virtues we would blush to possess — while the great qualities, that distinguish the one work from the thousand, that make of the masterpiece the thing of beauty that it is — have never been seen at all. That this is so, we can make sure of, by looking back at old reviews upon past exhibitions, and reading the flatteries lavished upon men who have since been forgotten altogether — but, upon whose works, the language has been exhausted, in rhapsodies — that left nothing for the National Gallery. A curious matter, in its effect upon the judgment of these gentlemen, is the accepted vocabulary of poetic symbolism, that helps them, by habit, in dealing with Nature: a mountain, to them, is synonymous with height — a lake, with depth — the ocean, with vastness — the sun, with glory. So that a picture with a mountain, a lake, and an ocean — however poor in paint — is inevitably "lofty," "vast," "infinite," and "glorious" — on paper. There are those also, sombre of mien, and wise with the wisdom of books, who frequent museums and OF MAKING ENEMIES 149 burrow in crypts ; collecting — comparing — compiling — classifying — contradicting. Experts these — for whom a date is an accomplish- ment — a hall mark, success ! Careful in scrutiny are they, and conscientious of judgment — establishing, with due weight, unimportant reputations — discovering the picture, by the stain on the back — testing the torso, by the leg that is missing — filling folios with doubts on the way of that limb — disputatious and dictatorial, concerning the birthplace of inferior persons — speculating, in much writing, upon the great worth of bad work. True clerks of the collection, they mix memoranda with ambition, and, reducing Art to statistics, they " file " the fifteenth century, and pigeon-hole " the antique ! Then the Preacher " appointed " ! He stands in high places — harangues and holds forth. Sage of the Universities — learned in many matters, and of much experience in all, save his subject. Exhorting — denouncing — directing. Filled with wrath and earnestness. Bringing powers of persuasion, and polish of lan- guage, to prove — nothing, 150 THE GENTLE ART Torn with much teaching — having naught to impart. Impressive — important — shallow. Defiant — distressed — desperate. Crying out, and cutting himself — while the gods hear not. Gentle priest of the Philistine withal, again he ambles pleasantly from all point, and through many volumes, escaping scientific assertion — " babbles of green fields." So Art has become foolishly confounded with educa- tion — that all should be equally qualified. Whereas, while polish, refinement, culture, and breeding, are in no way arguments for artistic result, it is also no reproach to the most finished scholar or greatest gentleman in the land that he be absolutely without eye for painting or ear for music — that in his heart he prefer the popular print to the scratch of Kembrandt's needle, or the songs of the hall to Beethoven's " 0 minor Symphony." Let him have but the wit to say so, and not feel the admission a proof of inferiority. Art happens — no hovel is safe from it, no Prince may depend upon it, the vastest intelligence cannot OF MAKING ENEMIES 151 bring it about, and puny efforts to make it universal end in quaint comedy, and coarse farce. This is as it should be — and all attempts to make it otherwise are due to the eloquence of the ignorant, the zeal of the conceited. The boundary line is clear. Far from me to propose to bridge it over — that the pestered people be pushed across. No ! I would save them from further fatigue. I would come to their relief, and would lift from their shoulders this incubus of Art. Why, after centuries of freedom from it, and indif- ference to it, should it now be thrust upon them by the blind — until wearied and puzzled, they know no longer how they shall eat or drink — how they shall sit or stand — or wherewithal they shall clothe them- selves — without afflicting Art. But, lo ! there is much talk without ! Triumphantly they cry, " Beware ! This matter does indeed concern us. We also have our part in all true Art ! — for, remember the * one touch of Nature ' that ' makes the whole world kin.' " True, indeed. But let not the unwary jauntily suppose that Shakespeare herewith hands him his passport to Paradise, and thus permits him speech tS2 THE GENTLE ART among the chosen. Rather, learn that, in this very- sentence, he is condemned to remain without — to continue with the common. This one chord that vibrates with all — this "one touch of Nature " that calls aloud to the response of each — that explains the popularity of the " Bull " of Paul Potter — that excuses the price of Murillo's " Conception " — this one unspoken sympathy that pervades humanity, is — Yulgarity ! Vulgarity — under whose fascinating influence the many" have elbowed " the few," and the gentle circle of Art swarms with the intoxicated mob of mediocrity, whose leaders prate and counsel, and call aloud, where the Gods once spoke in whisper ! And now from their midst the Dilettante stalks abroad. The amateur is loosed. The voice of the aesthete is heard in the land, and catastrophe is upon us. The meddler beckons the vengeance of the Gods, and ridicule threatens the fair daughters of the land. And there are curious converts to a weird mlte^ in which all instinct for attractiveness — all freshness and sparkle — all woman's winsomeness — is to give way to a strange vocation for the unlovely — and this desecration in the name of the Graces ! Shall this gaunt, ill-at-ease, distressed, abashed OF MAKING ENEMIES 153 mixture of mauvaise honte and desperate assertion call itself artistic, and claim (!Ousinship with the artist — who delights in the dainty, the sharp, bright gaiety of beauty ? No ! — a thousand times no ! Here are no connec- tions of ours. We will have nothing to do with them. Forced to seriousness, that emptiness maybe hidden, they dare not smile — While the artist, in fulness of heart and head, is glad, and laughs aloud, and is happy in his strength, and is merry at the pompous pretension — the solemn silliness that surrounds him. For Art and Joy go together, with bold openness, and high head, and ready hand — fearing naught, and dreading no exposure. Know, then, all beautiful women, that we are with you. Pay no heed, we pray you, to this outcry of the unbecoming — this last plea for the plain. It concerns you not. Your own instinct is near the truth — your own wit far surer guide than the untaught ventures of thick heeled Apollos. What ! will you up and follow the first piper that leads you down Petticoat Lane, there, on a Sabbath, to gather, for the week, from the dull rags of 154 THE GENTLE ART ages wherewith to bedeck yourselves ? that, beneath your travestied awkwardness, we have trouble to find your own dainty selves ? Oh, fie ! Is the world, then, exhausted? and must we go back because the thumb of the mountebank jerks the other way ? Costume is not dress. And the wearers of wardrobes may not be doctors of taste ! For by what authority shall these be pretty masters ? Look well, and nothing have they invented — nothing put together for comeliness' sake. Haphazard from their shoulders hang the garments of the hawker — combining in their person the motley of many manners with the medley of the mummers' closet. Set up as a warning, and a finger-post of danger, they point to the disastrous efiect of Art upon the middle classes. Why this lifting of the brow in deprecation of the present — this pathos in reference to the past ? If Art be rare to-day, it was seldom heretofore. It is false, this teaching of decay. The master stands in no relation to the moment at OF MAKING ENEMIES 155 which he occurs — a monument of isolation — hinting at sadness — having no part in the progress of his fellow men. He is also no more the product of civilisation than is the scientific truth asserted dependent upon the wisdom of a period. The assertion itself requires the ma7i to make it. The truth was from the beginning. So Art is limited to the infinite, and beginning there cannot progress. A silent indication of its wayward independence from all extraneous advance, is in the absolutely un- changed condition and form of implement since the beginning of things. The painter has but the same pencil — the sculptor the chisel of centuries. Colours are not more since the heavy hangings of night were first drawn aside, and the loveliness of light revealed. Neither chemist nor engineer can offer new elements of the masterpiece. False again, the fabled link between the grandeur of Art and the glories and virtues of the State, for Art feeds not upon nations, and peoples may be wiped from the face of the earth, but Art is. 156 THE GENTLE ART It is indeed high time that we cast aside the weary weight of responsibihty and co-partnership, and know that, in no way, do our virtues minister to its worth, in no way do our vices impede its triumph ! How irksome ! how hopeless ! how superhuman the self-imposed task of the nation ! How sublimely vain the belief that it shall live nobly or art perish. Let us reassure ourselves, at our own option is our virtue. Art we in no way affect. A whimsical goddess, and a capricious, her strong sense of joy tolerates no dulness, and, live we never so spotlessly, still may she turn her back upon us. As, from time immemorial, she has done upon the Swiss in their mountains. What more worthy people ! Whose every Alpine gap yawns with tradition, and is stocked with noble story ; yet, the perverse and scornful one will none of it, and the sons of patriots are left with the clock that turns the mill, and the sudden cuckoo, with difficulty restrained in its box ! For this was Tell a hero ! For this did Gessler die ! Art, the cruel jade, cares not, and hardens her heart, and hies her off to the East, to find, among the opium- eaters of Nankin, a favourite with whom she lingers fondly — caressing his blue porcelain, and painting his OF MAKING ENEMIES i57 coy maidens, and marking his plates with her six marks of choice— indifferent in her companionship with him, to all save the virtue of his refinement '. He it is who calls her— he who holds her ! And again to the West, that her next lover may bring together the Gallery at Madrid, and show to the world how the Master towers above all : and in their intimacy they revel, he and she, in this knowledge ; and he knows the happiness untasted by other mortal. She is proud of her comrade, and promises that in after-years, others shall pass that way, and understand. So in all time does this superb one cast about for the man worthy her love— and Art seeks the Artist alone. Where he is, there she appears, and remains with him ^loving and fruitful— turning never aside in moments of hope deferred — of insult — and of ribald misunderstanding ; and when he dies she sadly takes her flight, though loitering yet in the land, from fond association, but refusing to be consoled.* . ^nd so have we . , ij •! 1 the ephemeral influ. With the man, then, and not with the multitude, ence of the Master s ' ' '■^ ' ' ' memory— the after- are her intimacies ; and in the book of her life the warmed, for 'a whue! the worker and dis- names inscribed are few — scant, indeed, the list of °p'e. those who have helped to write her story of love and beauty. 158 THE GENTLE ART From the sunny morning, when, with her glorious Greek relenting, she yielded up the secret of repeated line, as^ with his hand in hers, together they marked in marble, the measured rhyme of lovely limb and draperies flowing in unison, to the day when she dipped the Spaniard's brush in light and air, and made his people live within their frames, and stand upon their legs, that all nobility and sweetness, and tender- ness, and magnificence should be theirs by right, ages had gone by, and few had been her choice. Countless, indeed, the horde of pretenders ! But she knew them not. A teeming, seething, busy mass, whose virtue was industry, and whose industry was vice ! Their names go to fill the catalogue of the collection at home, of the gallery abroad, for the delectation of the bagman and the critic. Therefore have we cause to be merry ! — and to cast away all care — resolved that all is well — as it ever was — and that it is not meet that we should be cried at, and urged to take measures ! Enough have we endured of dulness ! Surely are we weary of weeping, and our tears have been cozened from us falsely, for they have called out woe ! when there was no grief — and, alas ! where all is fair ! OF MAKING ENEMIES 159 We have then but.to wait — until, with the mark of the Gods upon him — there come among us again the chosen — who shall continue what has gone before. Satisfied that, even were he never to appear, the story of the beautiful is already complete — hewn in the marbles of the Parthenon — and broidered, with the birds, upon the fan of Hokusai — at the foot of Fusi- yama. THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES i6i " Rengaines ! " LAST night, at Prince's Hall, Mr. Whistler made his first public appearance as a lecturer on Art There were some arrows .... shot off .... and (0, mea Pnu mo/i Ga»Me, culpa !) at dress reformers most of all That an ° artist will find beauty in ugliness, le heau dans Vhorrihle, is now a commonplace of the schools I difier entirely from Mr, Whistler. An Artist is not an isolated fact ; he is the resultant of a certain milieu and a certain entourage, and can no more be born of a nation that is devoid of any sense of beauty than a fig can grow from a thorn or a rose blossom from a thistle The poet is the supreme Artist, for he RJ^-flection : is the master of colour and of form, and the real ti>at 'our°'imp?e '^'^ ' biinflower thrive on musician besides, and is lord over all life and all arts: ilaVnow^'raftld^ Edfjar Poe on the and so to the poet beyond all others are these myste- ea',?rAmerican'''' 1 -n 1 n T-k Market in " a cer- ries known : to Edgar Allan Poe and Baudelaire, not 'ain miiieu -ofdry * ^ ^7 ^ ^ jfoods and syni- to Benjamin West and Paul Delaroche JS^rn'to^rlge'-'oT worship and wooden „ .... nutmegs. Horn of a Nation, not absolutely "devoid of any sense of beauty "—Their idol— chcrished-Iisteued to— and understood! ObCAR WILDE. Foolish liaudelaire 1— Mistaken Mallarnie I l62 THE GENTLE ART Tenderness in Tite Street TO THE POET: Q SCAR— I have read your exquisite article in the Tall Mall. Nothing is more delicate, in the flattery of " the Poet " to " the Painter," than the ')ia;ivete of " the Poet," in the choice of his Painters— Ben- jamin West and Paul Delaroche ! Thciyc-id. You have pointed out that "the Painter's" mission is to find " le beau dam I'horrible" and have left to "the Poet" the discoveiy of ''I'horrible" dans "le beaic " / Chelsea. OF MAKING ENEMIES i63 TO THE PA INTER: J) EAR Butterfly — By the aid of a biographical dictionary, I made the discovery that there were once two painters, called Benjamin West and Paul Dela- roche, who rashly lectured upon Art. As of their works nothing at all remains, I conclude that they explained themselves away. Be warned in time, James ; and remain, as I do, oscirTw'ith hfs head in the sand, incomprehensible. To be great is to be misunder- f^'is'^coverld !" stood.— roWi a VOUS, stood°s ?obl=reae it was rash in Oscar to reveal the source of his inspirations : the " Biographical Dictionary I " REFI.F.CTIQN : I do know a bird, who, like OSCAR WILDE. 1^ 164 THE GENTLE ART To the Committee of the ''National Art Exhibition " r;ENTLEMEN— I am naturally interested in any Letter read at a VJ J sodety^assodated ^ffort made among Painters to prove that they are newond, for purposes of Art i.i -r n t t • Nov. 17, 1888. reform. alive — but When I find, thrust m the van of your leaders, the body of my dead 'Arry, I know that putrefaction alone can result. When, following 'Arry, there comes on Oscar, you finish in farce, and bring upon yourselves the scorn and ridicule of your con- freres in Europe. What has Oscar in common with Art ? except that he dines at our tables and picks from our platters the plums for the pudding he peddles in the provinces. Oscar — the amiable, irresponsible, esurient Oscar — with no more sense of a picture than of the fit of a coat, has the courage of the opinions ... of others ! With 'Arry and Oscar you have avenged the Academy. Enclosed to the I am. Gentlemen, yours obediently, " oscrr"yo'l.'";uM really keep outsiilc 'the r.irlius'l" OF MAKING ENEMIES 165 Tke World, Quand meme ! ^TLAS, this is very sad ! With our James vulgarity Nov. »4, 1886. begins at home, and should be allowed to stay there. — A vousy OSCAR WILDE. TO WHOM: ^ poor thing," Oscar ! — « but," for once, I suppose " your own." THE GENTLE ART Philanthropy and Art 'J^HE Saturday Review has not thought it disgrace- ful to once more justify its title to be called the " Saturday Eeviler." This time it is not to break upon the wheel some poor butterfly of a lady traveller or novelist, but to scoff at an aged painter of the highest repute — Mr. Herbert — upon his retire- ment to the rank of " Honorary Academician," after a career such as few, if any, painters living can boast. This it pleases the *' Reviler " to congratulate artists upon as " good news," without a word or a thought of what the retiring Academician has done in art, except to utter the contemptible untruth that ''his resignation means that he has found out that he is beaten," not by the natural faihng of old age, but because he failed to impress such a writer as this with the special exhibition of the works of his long life, that was made some few years back to mark the completion of his last great picture for the House of Lords, " The OF MAKING ENEMIES 167 Judgment of Daniel." That exhibition, which most people, who know anything about painting in its highest style of religious and monumental art, thought a most interesting display of a painter's career, is described by this most genial of critics as " acres of pallid purple canvases, with wizened . saints and virgins in attitudinizing groups." Whether that collection of Mr. Herbert's works had merit or not is matter of opinion which I am not concerned to dispute ; but, as a matter of fact, there were only three small pictures in which the virgin or any saints appeared ; the other pictures, besides the two large works of " The Delivery of the Law " and "The Judgment of Daniel," painted for the nation, being historical subjects, such as the " Lear Disin- heriting Cordelia," a fresco of which is in the House of Lords ; " The Acquittal of the Seven Bishops," which the Corporation of Salford purchased for their gallery of art ; and several fine works of his youth, such as the *' Brides of Venice," a *' Procession in Venice, 1528," and others, which won for him his election to the Academy forty-five years ago, when he had to compete with such men as are, unfortu- nately, not to be found now among the candidates — Etty — Maclise — Dyce — Egg — and Elmore. But the " Saturday's " art critic, if he ever saw this I68 THE GENTLE ART exhibition at all, didn't go to see these pictures. As Goethe says, " the eye sees what it came to see," and he went to see the acres of purple canvases, with their wizened saints," which were not there. No matter — it suits his purpose to declare that they were, just as it does to cram into a paragraph more ignorance, insolence, and false assertions combined than is often to be met with even in this locality of literature, where the editor seems to be surrounded with all the prigs, and the pumps, and the snobs of the literary profession. T7 tith, Aug. 19, i886. OF MAKING ENEMIES 169 " JVous awns change tout cela ! " p^OITY-TOITY ! my dear Henry !— What is all this? How can you startle the " Constant Reader," 7v««<, of this cold world, by these sudden dashes into the unexpected ? Perceive also what happens. Sweet in the security of my own sense of things, and looking upon you surely as the typical " Sa'pem " of modern progress and civilization, here do I, in full Paris, h Vheure de Vahsinthe, upon mischievous dis- cussion intent, call aloud for " Truth." " Vous allez voir" I say to the brilliant brethren gathered about my table, " you shall hear the latest beautiful thing and bold, said by our great Henry — ' capable de tout,' beside whom ' ce coquin d'Habacuc ' was mild indeed and usual ! " And straightway to my stultification, I find myself translating paragraphs of pathos and indignation, in which a colourless old gentleman of the Academy is sympathized with, and 170 THE GENTLE ART made a doddering hero of, for no better reason than that he is old — and those who would point out the wisdom and comfort of his withdrawal into the wig- wam of private life, sternly reproved and anathema- tized and threatened with shame — until they might well expect to find themselves come upon by the bears of the aged and irascible, though bald-headed, Prophet, whom the children had thoughtfully urged to "go up." Fancy the Frenchmen's astonishment as I read, and their placid amusement as I attempted to point out that it was " meant drolly — that en/in you were a mystificateur ! " Henry, why should I thus be mortified? Also, why this new pose, this cheap championship of senility ? How, in the name of all that is incompetent, do you find much virtue in work spreading over more time ! What means this affectation of naivete. We all know that work excuses itself only by reason of its quality. If the work be fooHsh, it surely is not less fooHsh because an honest and misspent lifetime has been passed in producing it. What matters it that the offending worker has grown old among us, and has endeared himself to OF MAKING ENEMIES 171 many by his caprices as ratepayer and neigh- bour ? Personally, he may have claims upon his sur- roundings ; but, as the painter of poor pictures, he is damned for ever. You see, my Henry, that it is not sufficient to be, as you are in wit and wisdom, among us, amazing and astute; a very Daniel in your judgment of many vexed questions ] of a frankness and loyalty withal in your crusade against abuses, that makes of the keen litigator a most dangerous Quixote. This peculiar temperament gives you that superb sense of right, outside the realms of art, that amounts to genius, and carries with it continued success and triumph in the warfare you wage. But here it helps you not. And so you find your- self, for instance, pleasantly prattling in print of " English Art." Learn, then, 0 ! Henry, that there is no such thing as English Art. You might as well talk of Enghsh Mathematics. Art is Art, and Mathematics is Mathe- matics. What you call English Art, is not Art at all, but produce, of which there is, and always has been, and always will be, a plenty, whether the men producing it are dead and called , or (I refer you to your 172 THE GENTLE ART own selection, far be it from me to choose) — or alive and called , whosoever yoia like as you turn over the Academy catalogue. The great truth, you have to understand, is that it matters not at all whom you prefer in this long list. They all belong to the excellent army of mediocrity ; the differences between them being infinitely small — merely microscopic — as compared to the vast dis- tance between any one of them and the Great. They are the commercial travellers of Art, whose works are their wares, and whose exchange is the Academy. They pass and are forgotten, or remain for a while in the memory of the worthies who knew them, and who cling to their faith in them, as it flatters their own place in history — famous themselves — the friends of the famous ! Speak of them, if it please you, with uncovered head — even as in France you would remove your hat as there passes by the hearse — but remember it is from the conventional habit of awe alone, this show of respect, and called forth generally by the casual corpse of the commonest kind. Paris, Aug. 21, 1886. OF MAKING ENEMIES m The Inevitable "^HEJST I suggested you as the " Sapeur of modern progress," my dear Henry, I thought to convey tv^m. delicately my appreciation, vi^rapped in graceful com- pliment. When I am made to say that you are the " Sapem " of civilisation — whatever that may mean — I would seem to insinuate an impei'tinence clothed in classic error. I trust that, if you forgive me, you will never pardon the printer. — Always, \ 174 THE GENTLE ART ''Noblesse oblige'' _^TLAS, look at this ! It has been culled from the Plumber and Decorator^ of all insidious prints, and forwarded to me by the vintiring people who daily supply me with the thinkings of my critics. Read, Atlas, and let me execute myself : " The ' Peacock ' drawing-room of a well-to-do ship- owner, of Liverpool, at Queen's Gate, London, is hand-painted, representing the noble bird with wings expanded, painted by an Associate of the B-oyal Academy, at a cost of ^jooo, and fortunate in claiming his daughter as his bride, and is one of the finest specimens of high art in decoration in the kingdom. The mansion is of modern con- struction." He is not guilty, this honest Associate ! It was 7, Atlas, who did this thing — "alone I did it" — I " hand-painted " this room in the " mansion of modern construction." OF MAKING ENEMIES 17 $ Woe is me ! / secreted, in the provincial ship- owner's home, the " noble bird with wings ex- panded " — / perpetrated, in harmless obscurity, "the finest specimen of high-art decoration" — and the Academy is without stain in the art of its mem- ber. Also the immaculate character of that Royal body has been falsely impugned by this wicked " Plumber " ! Mark these things. Atlas, that justice may be done, the innocent spared, and history cleanly written. Bon soir ! Chelsea. 176 THE GENTLE ART Early Laurels TO THE EDITOR: gIR— In your report of the Graham sale of pictures at Messrs. Christie and Hanson's rooms, I read the rhe observa-, ' April II, 1886. following : " The next work, put upon the easel, was a '■ Nocturne in blue and silver,' by J. M. Whistler. It was received with hisses." May 1 beg, through your widely spread paper, to acknowledge the distinguished, though I fear uncon- scious, compliment so publicly paid. It is rare that recognition, so complete, is made during the lifetime of the painter, and I would wish to have i-ecorded my full sense of this flattering exception in my favour. Chelsea. OF MAKING ENEMIES «77 A Further Proposition "piIE notion that I paint flesh lower in tone than it is in nature, is entirely based upon the popular superstition as to what flesh really is — when seen on -^'-fjournai, ■' 1887. canvas ; for the people never look at nature with any sense of its pictorial appearance — for which reason, by the way, they also never look at a pictuie with any sense of nature, but, unconbciously from habit, with reference to what they have seen in other pictures. Now, in the usual " pictures of the year " thei-e is but one flesh, that shall do service under all cii'cum- stances, whether the person painted be in the soft light of the room or out in the glare of the open. The one aim of the unsuspecting painter is to make his man " stand out " from the frame — never doubt- ing that, on the contrary, he should really, and in truth absolutely does, stand within the frame — and at a depth behind it equal to the distance at which iyg THE GENTLE ART the painter sees his model. The frame is, indeed, the window through which the painter looks at his model, and nothing could be more offensively inartistic than this brutal attempt to thrust the model on the hither- side of this window ! Yet this is the false condition of things to which all have become accustomed, and in the stupendous effort to bring it about, exaggeration has been exhausted— and the traditional means of the incom- petent can no further go. Lights have been heightened until the white of the tube alone remains — shadows have been deepened until black alone is left. Scarcely a feature stays in its place, so fierce is its intention of *' firmly " coming forth ; and in the midst of this unseemly struggle for prominence, the gentle truth has but a sorry chance, falling flat and flavourless, and without force. The Master from Madrid, himself, beside this monster success of mediocrity, would be looked upon as mild: heau Men sure, mais pas ^^dans le mouve- ment " ! Whereas, could the people be induced to turn their eyes but for a moment, with the fresh power of com- parison, upon their fellow-creatures as they pass in the gallery, they might be made dimly to perceive (though I doubt it, so bhnd is their belief in the bad, OF MAKING ENEMIES lyg how little they resemble the impudent images on the walls ! how " quiet " in colour they are ! how "grey!" how "low in tone." And then it might be explained to their riveted intelligence how they had mistaken meretriciousness for mastery, and by what mean methods the imposture had been practised upon them. THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES i8{ An Opportunity (^HER Monsieur — M. — — m'a remis votre petite planche — port d' Amsterdam avec une epreuve. EUe est charmante et je serais fort heureux de la faire paraitre dans I'article eonsacre a vos eaux fortes. Seulement, je crains que vous avez mal interprete ma demande et que par le fait nous ne nous entendons pas bien. Vous me demandez 63 guinees pour cette planche, soit plus de 2000 francs, outre que le prix d^passe celui de la planche la plus chere parue dans la Gazette de puis sa fondation, y compris les chefs-d'oeuvre de Jacquemart et de Gaillard, il n'est pas dans les habitudes de la maison, de payer les planches d'artistes qui accompagnent un compte-rendu de leur oeuvre. C'est ainsi que nous avons agi avec Meryon, Seymour Haden, Edwards, Evershed, Legros, &c. Du reste, la planche pourrait rester votre propri^t^. Nous vous la remettrions apr^s avoir fait notre tirage. II est entendu qu'elle serait acieree. 1 82 THE GENTLE ART Si ces conditions vous agreent, cher monsieur, je me ferai un vrai plaiser de fair dans la Gazette un article sur votre beau talent d'aquafortiste. Dans le cas contraire, je me verais avec mille regrets, dans la necessity de vous renvoyer la planche que je me fusse fait cependant un veritable honneur de publier. Yeuillez agreer, cher monsieur, I'expression de mes meilleurs sentiments. LE DIRECTEUR de la Gazette des Beaux- Arts. Paris, le 12 Juin 1878. OF MAKING ENEMIES 183 Tke Opportunity Neglected QHER Monsieur — Je regrette infiniment que mes moyens ne me permettent pas de naitre dans votre Journal. L'article que vous me proposez, comme berceau, me couterait trop cher. II me faudrait done reprendre ma planche et rester inconnu jusqu'k la fin des choses, puisque je n'aurais pas ete invents par la Gazette des Beaux Arts. — Ee- cevez, Monsieur, THE GENTLE ART Nostalgia . . . . " QUITE true— now that it is established as an improbability, it becomes true ! *' ' Extract from a They tell me that December has been fixed upon, Mr.'Wiffi" " ' contempiated by the Fates, for my arrival in New York — and, if I "^'"'^ escape the Atlantic, I am to be wrecked by the o?' iTTrai reporter on the pier. I shall be in his hands, even as is the sheep in the hands of his shearer — for I have learned nothing from those who have gone before— and been lost too ! What will you ! I know Matthew Arnold, and am told that he whispered Truth exquisite, unheeded in the haste of America. And these others who have crossed the seas, that they might fasten upon the hurried ones at home and gird at them with wisdom, hysterically acquired, and administered, unblushingly, \vith a suddenness of purpose that prevented their ever being listened to here,— must I follow in their wake, to be met with OF MAKING ENEMIES 185 suspicion by my compatriots, and resented as the invading instructor ? Heavens ! — who knows ! — also in the papers, where naturally I read only of myself, I gather a general impression of offensive aggressiveness, that, coupled with Chase's monstrous lampoon, has prepared me for the tomahawk on landing. How dared he. Chase, to do this wicked thing?— and I who was charming, and made him beautiful on canvas — the Masher of the Avenues, However, I may not put off until the age of the amateur has gone by, but am to take with me some of those works which have won for me the execration of Europe, that they may be shown to a country in which I cannot be a prophet, and where I, who have no intention of being other than joyous — improving no one — not even myself — will say again my *' Ten o'clock," which I refused to repeat in London JTai diti This is no time for hesitation — one cannot con- tinually disappoint a Continent ! THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES 187 An Insinuation TO THE EDITOR: ]y[ Y. attention has been directed to a paragraph that has gone the round of the papers, to the effect that Mr. John Burr and Mr. Reid have " withdrawn from Z"' '^"'^yj^'"''- the Society of British Artists." This tardy statement acquires undue significance at this moment, with a tendency to mislead, implying, as it might, that these resignations were in consequence of, and intended as a marked disapproval of, the determined stand made by the Society in excluding from their coming ex- hibition the masses of commonplace work hitherto offered to the public in their galleries. No such importance attaches, however, to their resignations, as these two gentlemen left Suffolk Street six months ago. THE GENTLE ART An Imputation TO THE EDITOR : ^lE. — Mr. Whistler denies that the recent policy of the Society of British Artists was the cause of the secession of Messrs. Burr and Eeid from the ranks of ne Dauy n, , „ . , . Nov. 24, iSe6. that Society, and mentions in proof of his correction that their resignation took place six months ago. He might have gone further, and added that their seces- sion corresponded in time with his own election as president. It is well known to artists that one, if not both, of these gentlemen left the Society knowing that changes of policy, of which they could not approve, were inevitable under the presidency of Mr. Whistler. It will be for the patrons of the Suffolk Street Gallery to decide whether the more than half- uncovered walls which will be offered to their view next week are more interesting than the work of many artists of more than average merit which will be conspicuous by its absence, owing to the selfish policy inaugurated. A BRITISH ARTIST. OF MAKING ENEMIES 189 " AtUre Temps autre Mceurs'' TO THE EDITOR: gIR — The anonymous "British Artist" says that " Mr. Whistler denies that the recent policy of the Society of British Artists was the cause of the seces- The oaUy Ne^ns. Nov. 26, 1886. sion of Messrs. Reid and Burr fiom the ranks of that Society." Far from me to propose to penetrate the motives of such withdrawal, but what I did deny was that it could possibly be caused — as its strangely late announce- ment seemed sweetly to insinuate — by the strong determination to tolerate no longer the mediocre work that had hitherto habitually swarmed the walls of Suffolk Street. This is a plain question of date, and I pointed out that these two gentlemen left the Society six months 190 THE GENTLE ART ago — long before the supervising committee were called upon to act at all, or make any demonstration whatever. Your correspondent regrets that I do not " go further," and straightway goes further himself, and scarcely fares better, when, with a quaintness of naivete rare at this moment, he proposes that " it will be for the patrons of the gallery to decide whether the more than half -uncovered walls are more interest- ing than the works of many artists of more than the average merit." Now it will be for the patrons to decide absolutely nothing. It is, and will always be, for the gentlemen of the hanging committee alone, duly chosen, to decide whether empty space be preferable to poor pictures — whether, in short, it be their duty to cover walls, merely that walls may be covered — no matter with what quality of work. Indeed, the period of the patron has utterly passed away, and the painter takes his place — to point out what he knows to be consistent with the demands of his art — without deference to patrons or prejudice to party. Beyond this, whether the ''policy of Mr. Whistler and his following " be " selfish or THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES 193 Talent in a Napkin J F those who talk and write so glibly as to the de- sirability of artists devoting themselves to the repre- sentation of the naked human form, only knew a tithe ^' of the degradation enacted before the model is sufficiently hardened to her shameful calling, they would for ever hold their tongues and pens in sup- porting the practice. Is not clothedness a distinct type and feature of our Christian faith? All art representations of nakedness are out of harmony with it. J. C. HORSLEY, R.A. N 194 THE GENTLE ART The Critic " Catching on " ]y[R. WHISTLER is again, in a sense, the mainstay of the Society (British Artists), partly through his ff/g^"-''-' own individuality and partly through the innovations he has introduced He has several oil and pastel pictures, very slight in themselves, of the female nude, dignified and graceful in line and charmingly chaste, entitled " Harmony," " Caprice," and " Note." Be- neath the latter Mr. Whistler has written, " Horsley soit qui mal y pense." " This is not," said the artist, " what people are sure to call it, * Whistler's little joke.' On the con- reflectjoi trary, it is an indignant protest against the idea that Meant "friendi there is any immorality in the nude." OF MAKING ENEMIES 195 Ingratitude IVrO, kind sir — trop de zele on the part of your re- . X ^ Pall Mall GaxeUe, presentative — for I surely never explain, and Art d«<:- ^o. 'sss. certainly requires no " indignant protest " against the unseemliness of senility. "Horsley soil qui 'mal y pense " is meanwhile a sweet sentiment — why more — and why " morality " ? 196 THE GENTLE ART The Complacent One J^R. WHISTLER has issued a brown-paper port- folio of half a dozen "Notes," reproduced in mar- ^^i^a^^^ofA vellous facsimile. These "Notes" are delightful sketches in Indian ink and crayon, masterly so far as they go— but, then, they go such a little way . . . the " Notes " can only be regarded as painter's raw material, interesting as correct sketches, but unworthy the glories of facsimile reproduction, and imposing margin. . . . The chief honours of the portfoho belong to the publishers. ... OF MAKING ENEMIES 197 T^e Critic-flaneur gIR — You, who are, I perceive, in your present brilliant incarnation, an undaunted and undulled pursuer of pleasing truths, listen, I pray you, while again I indicate, with sweet argument, the alternative Sunday Tmus, Jan. IS, 1888. of the bewildered one. Notably, it is not necessary that the " Art Critic " should distinguish between the real and the " repro- duction," or otherwise understand anything of the matter of which he writes — for much shall be for- given him — ^yet surely, as I have before now pointed out, he might inquire. Had the expounder of exhibitions, travelling for the Magazine of Art, asked the Secretary in the galleries of the Royal Society of British Artists, he would have been told that the " Notes " on the staircase, and in the vestibule, are not " deUghtful sketches in Indian ink and crayon .... reproduced in marvellous fac- simile by Boussod, Valadon & Co unworthy 198 THE GENTLE ART the glories of facsimile reproduction, and imposing margin " . . . . while " the chief honours of the port- folio, however, belong to the publishers " — but are, disconcerting as I acknowledge it to be, themselves the lithograplia from Tiature, drawn on the stone upon the spot. Thus easily provided with paragraph, he would also have been spared the mortification of rebuke from his well-meaning and embarrassed employers. Let the gentleman be warned — let him learn that the foolish critic only, — looks — and brings disaster, upon his paper — the safe and well-conducted one *' informs himself." Yours, Sir, gently, OF MAKING ENEMIES 199 A Played-out Policy TO THE EDITOR OF THE "PALL MALL GAZETTE": 3^-'^ — In your courageous crusade against the Demon Dulness and his preposterous surroundings, I think it well that there should be delivered into your hands certain documents for immediate publication, that MaiiGaz^tk your readers may be roused quickly, and hear again * " ' how well fenced in are the foolish in strong places — and how greatly to be desired is their exposure, dis- comfiture, and death — that Truth may prevail. It happened in this way. The criticism in the Times called for instant expostulation, and my answer was consequently sent in to the Editor, who forthwith returned it, regretting " that its tone prevented its appearance in the paper." .... I thereupon with- drew to write the following note to the Editor in person : — " Dear Sir — Permit me to call your courteous atten- tion to the fact that the enclosed letter to the Editor 200 THE GENTLE ART of the Times is in reply to an article that appeared in your paper — and that, as I sign my name in full, I alone am responsible for its tone or form; indeed, that such is its tone and form, is because it is my letter. " In common fairness the answer to, or comment upon, any statements made in your paper should be published in your paper, as proper etiquette prevents its insertion in any other journal. " Also, you surely would not propose to dictate cer- tain forms or styles in which alone the columns of the Times are to be approached — as who should say all other savour of sacrilege ! — or acquiescence alone would do, and you would have to write all your letters yourselves. " My letter concerns the effect produced by criticism of a commonplace and inferior kind, wholly unworthy the first paper in England — and I am startled to learn, and still unwilling to believe, that the Times would shun all ventilation and refuse to publish any letter as its sole means of screening its staff or pro- tecting its writers. " I submit that the tone of my letter sins against no laws that are accepted in antagonism — that it offends in no way the etiquette of attack known to gentlemen. OF MAKING ENEMIES 201 " I beg, therefore, again, that if there be still time for its insertion, you will have it printed in your issue of to-morrow, or will say that it shall appear in the Times of Thursday morning. " I am, dear Sir, " Yery faithfully, " J. McNeill Whistler." I was now told, " with the Editor's compliments," " that my letter should be considered." Taking this in complete good faith, I left the office, to discover the next day in print a remnant of the letter in ques- tion ; that, by itself, entirely did away with sufficient reason for its being there at all. The two ensuing notes explain themselves : To J. McN. Whistler, Esq. : " The Editor of the Times has inserted in to-day's paper the only portion of Mr. Whistler's letter of November 30 which appears to have any claim to publication. " Printing House Square, Dec. i, 1886." ' ' To the Editor of the Times : "Dear Sir — I beg to acknowledge the consummate sense of opportunity displayed by the Editor of the Times, in his cunning production of a part of my letter. ' ' Amazing ! Mes compliments ! " 202 THE GENTLE ART Without further comment I hand you a copy of the rejected letter. "To the Editor of the Tirties.—^ir — In his article upon the Society of British Artists, your Art gentle- man ventures the opinion of the ' plain man.' " That such opinion is out of place and stultifying in a question of Art never occurs to him, and it is therefore frankly cited as, in a way, conclusive. " The naif train of thought that justified the im- portance attached to this poor ' plain ' opinion at all would seem to be the same that pervades the writing throughout; until it becomes difficult to discover where the easy effrontery and self-sufficiency of the ' plain one,' nothing doubting, cease, and the wit and wisdom of the experienced expert begin — so that one unconsciously confounds the incautious critic with the plausible plain person, who finally becomes the same authority. "Blind plainness certainly is the characteristic of the solemn censure upon the fine work of Mr. Stott, of Oldham — plain blindness the omission of all mention of Mr. Ludovici's dainty dancing-girl. " Bewilderment among paintings is naturally the fate of the * plain man,' but, when put forth in the Times, his utterances, however empty, acquire a semblance of sense ; so that while he gravely descants with bald OF MAKING ENEMIES 203 assurance upon the engineering of the light in the galleries, and the decoration of the walls, the reader stands a chance of being misled, and may not discover at once that the * plain ' writer is qualified by ignor- ance alone to continue. " Permit me, therefore, to rectify inconsequent im- pressions, and tell your readers that there is nothing ' tentative ' in the ' arrangement ' of colour, walls, or drapery — that the battens should not ' be removed ' — that they are meant to remain, not only for their use, but as bringing parallel lines into play that subdivide charmingly the lower portion of the walls and add to their light appearance — that the whole ' combination ' is complete — and that the ' plain man ' is, as usual, * out of it.' — I am. Sir, etc., " J. McNeill Whistler." The question of fair dealing and good manners in this matter I could not leave in better hands than your own, and I will only add that hitherto I have always met with the utmost readiness on the part of the press to receive into their columns any reply, however opposed to assertions of their own. Surely it is but poor policy this peremptory attempt to maintain in authority the weak and blundering one, 204 THE GENTLE ART that he may destroy himself and bring sorrow upon his people. Rather let him be thrust from his post, that he may be "brayed in a mortar among wheat with a pestle" — that the Just be assuaged and foolishness depart from among us. OF MAKING ENEMIES 20S An Interview with an ex- President "^HE adverse vote by which the Royal Society of British Artists transferred its oath of allegiance from Mr. Whistler is for the time the chief topic of con- versation in artistic circles We instructed our representative to visit Mr. Whistler to obtain his explanation of the affair. "The state of affairs?" said Mr. Whistler, in his light and airy way, raising his eyebrows and twinkKng his eyes, as if it were all the best possible fun in the world ; " why, my dear sir, there's positively no state of affairs at all. Contrary to public declaration, there's actually nothing chaotic in the whole business ; on the contrary, everything is in order, and just as it should be. The survival of the fittest as regards the presidency, don't you see, and, well — Suffolk Street is itself again ! A new government has come in, and, as I told the members the other night, I congratulate the Society on the result of their vote, for no longer Pall Mall Gazette, June II, i883. 2o6 THE GENTLE ART can it be said that the right man is in the wrong place. No doubt their pristine sense of undisturbed somnolence will again settle upon them after the exasperated mental condition arising from the un- natural strain recently put upon the old ship. Eh ? what? Ha! ha!" " You do not then consider the Society as out of date ? You do not think, as is sometimes said, that the establishment of the Grosvenor took away the raison d'etre and original intention of the Society — that of being a foil to the Royal Academy % " " I can hardly say what was originally intended, but I do know that it was originally full of hope, and even determination ; shown in a manner by their getting a Royal Charter — the only art society in London, I believe, that has one. " But by degrees it lapsed into a condition of in- capacity — a sort of secondary state, — do you see, till it acknowledged itself a species of creche for the Royal Academy. Certain it is that when I came into it the prevalent feeling among all the men was that their best work should go to * another place.' " I felt that this sense of inferiority was fatal to the well-being of the place. "For that reason I attempted to bring about a sense of esprit de corps and ambition, which culminated OF MAKING ENEMIES 207 in what might be called ' my first ofience '—by my proposition that members belonging to other societies should hold no official position in ours. I wanted to make it an art centre," continued Mr. Whistler, with a sudden vigour and an earnestness for which the public would hardly give credit to this Master of Badinage and Apostle of Persiflage ; " they wanted it to remain a shop, although I said to them, * Gentle- men, don't you perceive that as shopmen you have already failed, don't you see, eh ? ' But they were under the impression that the sales decreased under my methods and my regime, and ignored the fact that sales had declined all over the country from all sorts of causes, commercial, and so on. Their only chance lay in the art tone of the place, for the old-fashioned pictures had ceased to become saleable wares — buyers simply wouldn't buy them. But members' work I couldn't, by the rules, eliminate— only the bad outsiders were choked off." " Then how do you explain the bitterness of all the opposition 1 " "A question of 'pull devil, pull baker,' and the devil has gone and the bakers remain in Suffolk Street ! Ha ! ha 1 Here is a list of the fiendish party who protested against the thrusting forth of their president in such an unceremonious way : 2o8 THE GENTLE ART " Alfred Stevens^ Theodore Roussel, Nelson Maclean, Macnab, Waldo Story, A. Ludovici, jun., Sidney Starr, Francis James, W. A. Rixon, Aubrey Hunt, Moffatt P. Lindner, E. G, Girardot, Ludby, Arthur Hill, Llewellyn, W. Christian Symons, C. WylKe, A. F. Grace, J. E. Grace, J. D. Watson, Jacomb Hood, Thornley, J. J. Shannon, and Charles Keen. Why, the very flower of the Society ! and whom have they left — hon Dieu I whom have they left 1 " " It was a hard fight then ? " *' My dear sir, they brought up the maimed, the halt, the lame, and the blind — literally — like in Hogarth's * Election ; ' they brought up everything but corpses, don't you know ! — very well ! " " But all this hardly explains the bitterness of the feud and personal enmity to you." " What ? Don't you see 1 My presidential career had in a manner been a busy one. When I took charge of the ship I found her more or less water- logged. Well, I put the men to the pumps, and thoroughly shook up the old vessel ; had her re-rigged, re-cleaned, and painted — and finally I was graciously permitted to run up the Royal Standard to the mast- head, and brought her fully to the fore, ready for action — as became a Royal flagship ! And as a natural result mutiny at once set in I OF MAKING ENEMIES 299 " Don't you see," he continued, with one of his strident laughs, " what might be considered, by the thoughtless, as benefits, were resented, by the older and wiser of the crew, as innovations and intrusions of an impertinent and offensive nature. But the immediate result was that interest in the Society was undeniably developed, not only at home, but certainly abroad. Notably in Paris all the art circle was keenly alive to what was taking place in Suffolk Street; and, although their interest in other institutions in this country had previously flagged, there was the strong willingness to take part in its exhibitions. For example, there was Alfred Stevens, who showed his own sympathy with the progressive efforts by becoming a member. And look at the throngs of people that crowded our private views— eh? ha! ha! what! But what will you !-the question is, after all, purely a parochial one— and here I would stop to wonder, if I do not seem pathetic and out of character, why the Artist is naturally an object of vituperation to the Vestryman ?— Why am /—who, of course, as you know, am charming— why am I the pariah of my parish ? " Why should these people do other than delight in me ?— Why should they perish rather than forgive the one who had thrust upon them honour and success ? " o 2IO THE GENTLE ART " And the moral of it all ? " Mr. Whistler became impressive — abnost imposing as he stroked his moustache, and tried to hide a smile behind his hand. " The organisation of this ' Royal Society of British Artists,' as shown by its very name, tended perforce to this final convulsion, resulting in the separation of the elements of which it was composed. They could not remain together, and so you see the ' Artists' have come out, and the ' British ' remain— and peace and sweet obscurity are restored to Suffolk Street! — Eh % What ? Ha ! ha ! " OF MAKING ENEMIES 211 Statistics gINCE our interview with Mr. Whistler curious statements have been set afloat concerning the ques- tion of finance .... giving circumstantial evidence paiiMaiiGazt of the disaster brought upon the Society by the en- ^"'^^''^ f orcement of the Whistlerian policy : — This evidence, which is very interesting, is as fol- lows : — The sales of the Society during the year 1881 were under ;^5ooo; 1882, under ;^6ooo ; 1883, under £looo; 1884, under ^8000 ; 1885 (tli© first year of Mr. Whistler's rule), they fell to under ;^40oo ; 1886, under ;^3ooo; 1887, under ;^20oo ; and the present year, under ^^looo. On the other hand, the fact of the Society having made itself responsible to Mr. Whistler for a loan raised by him to meet a sudden expenditure for re- pairs, is also true ; but the unwisdom of the president and members of any society having money transac- 212 THE GENTLE ART tions between them need hardly be commented upon here Mr. Wyke Bayliss, the new president, strikes one as being " a strong man " — shrewd, logical, and self- restrained. The author of several books and pamphlets on the more imaginative realm of art, he is, one would say, as much permeated by religion as he is by art ; to both of these qualities, curiously enough, his canvases, which usually deal with cathedral interiors of cheery hue, bear witness. The hero of three Bond Street " one-man exhibi- tions," a Board-school chairman, a lecturer, champion chess-player of Surrey, a member of the Rochester Diocesan Council, a Shaksperian student, a Fellow of the Society of Cyclists, a Fellow of the Society of Antiquarians, and public orator of Noviomagus .... he is surely one of the most versatile men who ever occupied a presidential chair OF MAKING ENEMIES 213 A Retrospect TO THE EDITOR OF THE ''PALL MALL GAZETTE-" ^IR — The Royal Society of British Artists is, per- haps, by this time again unknown to your agitated readers — but I would recall a brilliant number of the Pall Mall Gazette (July 1888), in which mischiev- ous amusement was sought, with statistics from a newly elected President — Mr. Bayliss (Wyke). Believing it to be, in an official and dull way, more becoming that the appointed Council of this same Society should deal with the resulting chaos, I have, until now, waited for a slight washing of hands, as who should say, on their part as representing the gentle deprecation of, I assure you, the respectable body in Suffialk Street Well, no ! — It was doubtless adjudged wiser, or milder, to " live it down," and now it, I really believe, 214 THE GENTLE ART behoves me, in a weary way, to remind you of the document in question, and, for the sake of common- place, uninteresting, and foolish fact, to lift up my parable and declare fallacious that which was supposed to be true, and generally to bore myself, and perhaps even you, the all-patient one, with what, I fear, we others care but little for — parish matters. In the article, then, entitled " The Royal Society of British Artists and its Future — An Interview with the New President" — a most appalling volley of figures was fired ofi" at hrHle-pour-point distance. Under this deafening detonation I, having no habit, sat for days incapable — dreaming vaguely that when a President should see fit to wash his people's linen in the open, there must be indeed crime at least on the part of the offender at whose instigation such official sacrifice of dignity could come about. / was the offender, and for a while I sincerely believed that disaster had been brought upon this Royal Society by my own casual self. But behold, upon closer inspection, these threatening figures are meretricious and misleading, as was the building account of the early Philanthropist who, in the days of St. Paul, meant well, and was abruptly discouraged by that clear-headed apostle. Mr. Bayliss tells us that : *' The sales of the Society OF MAKING ENEMIES 21 5 during the year 1881 were under," whatever that may- mean, ";^5ooo; 1882, under ^6000; 1883, under £,^000 ; 1884, under ;^8ooo ; in 1885 (' the first year of Mr. Whistler's rule ') they fell to under ^^4000 ; 1886, under ;!£'30oo; 1887, under ;^2000 ; and the present year, under ;^iooo." But also Mr. Bayliss takes this rare occasion of attention, to assert his various qualifications for his post as head of painters in the street of Suffolk, and so we learn that he is : — " Chairman of the Board-school in his own district," " Champion chess-player of Surrey," " A member of the Diocesan Council of Rochester," *^ Fellow of the Society of Cyclists," and " PubKc Orator of Novio- magus." As chess-player he may have intuitively bethought himself of a move — possibly the happy one, — who knows? — which in the provinces obtained him a cup ; as Diocesan Councilman he may have supposed Rochester indifferent to the means used for an end ; but as PubHc Cyclist of the Royal Society of Novio- magus his experience must be opposed to any such bluff as going his entire pile on a left bower only ! When I recovered my courage — what did I find ? — first my unimpaired intelligence, and then my memory. 2i6 THE GENTLE ART Now, to my intelligence, it becomes patent that the chairman of a Clapham School-board, proposes by his figures to prove, that the income of the sacrificed Society had of late years steadily increased : — " In 1881, under ^^5000 ; 1882, under ^^6000; 1883, under ^^7000 ; 1884, under _;^8ooo," until, under the baneful reign of terror and "Whistler in 1885 — "the first year" of the sacrilegious era — the receipts fell to ;i^4ooo — and have continued to decrease until, in this present year, they fall to the miserable sum of under a thousand pounds — a revelation ! discreet, statesmanlike, and worthy the orator at his best ! Unfortunately for the triumph of such audacious demonstration, my revived memory points out that Mr. Whistler was only elected President in June 1886, and, in conformity with the ancient rules and amusing customs of the venerable body, only came into office six months afterwards — that is, practically, in January 1887. Again, with this last exhibition, he, as everybody knows, had nothing whatever to do. Immediately, therefore, the conclusion is " quite other" than that put forth by the Cyclist of his suburb, and we arrive at the, for once, not unamusing " fact " that the disastrous and simple Painter Whistler only took in hand the reins of government at least a year after the former driver had been OF MAKING ENEMIES 217 pitched from his box, and half the money-bags had been ah-eady lost ! — from ^^8000 to ;^40oo at one fatal swoop ! and the beginning of the end had set in ! Indeed, this may have been one of the strong reasons for his own election by an overwhelming minority of hysterical and panic-stricken passengers. Now, though he did his best, and cried aloud that the coach was safe, and called it Royal, and proposed to carry the mail, confidence, difficult to restore, waited for proof, and although fresh paint was spread upon the panels, and the President coachman wore his hat with knowing air, on one side and handled the ribbons lightly, and dandled the drag, inviting jauntily the passer-by, the pubhc recognized the ramshackle old " conveyance," and scoffingly refused to trust them- selves in the hearse. " Four thousand pounds ! " down it went — ^^3000 — ;^2ooo — the figures are Wyke's — and this season, the ignominious ";j£"iooo or under," is none of my booking ! and when last I saw the mad machine it was still cycHng down the hill. The Momiiig Post. 2l8 THE GENTLE ART The New Dynasty 311^ — Pray accept my compliments, and be good enough to inform me at once by whose authority, and upon what pretence, the painting, designed and exe- cuted by myself, upon the panel at the entrance of the galleries of Suffolk Street, has been defaced. Tam- pering with the work of an artist, however obscure, is held to be, in what might be called the international laws of the whole Art world, so villainous an offence, that I must at present decline to entertain the respon- sibility of the very distinguished and Royal Society of British Artists, for what must be due to the rash, and ill-considered, zeal of some enthusiastic and untutored underling. Awaiting your reply, I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient, humble servant, . y^QS^ Telegram to Counc. ^1 \^ 0/ Royal Society c yW>S-«^ British A r lists : To THE Hon. Secretary )\ "Congratulations upon dignity niain- OF THE Royal Society of British Artists. tamed £is Artists left in charge of a brother Artist's work, and upon March 30, 1880. graceful bearing as officers toward thei late President.— WHISTLER. " OF MAKING ENEMIES 219 An Embroidered Interview " "yyELL, Mr. Whistler, they say they only painted out your butterfly from the signboard, and changed PaiiMaiiGa^etu, the date. What do you say % " " What do I say ? That they have been guilty of an act of villainous VandaHsm." " Will you tell me the history of the Board % " "When I was elected to the presidency of the Society I offered to paint a signboard which should proclaim to the passer-by the name and nature of the Society, My offer was accepted, and the Board was sent down to my studio, where I treated it as I should a most distinguished sitter — as a picture or an etching — throwing my artistic soul into the Board, which gradually became a Board no longer, as it grew into a picture. You say they say it was only a butterfly. Mendacity could go no further. I painted a lion and a butterfly. The Hon lay with the butterfly — a har- mony in gold and red, with which I had taken as 220 THE GENTLE ART much trouble as I did with the best picture I ever painted. And now they have clothed my golden lion clumsily, awkwardly, and timorously with a dirty coat of black. My butterfly has gone, the checks and lines, which I had treated decoratively, have dis- appeared. Am I not justified in calling it a piece of gross Vandalism ? " " What course would you have recommended % You had gone ; the Board remained : perhaps it was weather-beaten — what could they do % " "They should have taken the Board down, sir, taken the Board down, not dared to destroy my work — taken the Board down, returned it to me, and got another Board of their own to practise on. Good heavens ! You say to my face it was only a Board. You say they only painted out my butterfly. It is as if you were condoling with a man who had been robbed and stripped, and said to him, ' Never mind. It is well it is no worse. You have escaped easily. Why, you might have had your throat cut.' " And Mr. Whistler's Mephistophelian form disap- peared into the black of the night. OF MAKING ENEMIES 221 Tke " Pall Mall" Puzzled ]y[Il. WHISTLER begs me to insert the following note exactly as it stands. I haven't the slightest idea Paii MaU G^txcttt, J April 4> 1SS9. what it means, but here it is with " ??^es compli- ynents " : — " To THE Interviewer of the Pall Mall Gazette : " Grood ! very good ! Prettily put, as becomes the Pall Mall, and yet you cannot be reproached with being * too fine for your audience ! ' " I wish I could say these things as you do for me, even at the risk of, at last, being understood. Mes Compliments I " THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES 223 Official Bumbledom glE — As you have considered Mr. Whistler's letter worthy of publication, I ask you to complete the pub- lication by inserting this simple statement of the facts as they occurred. The notice board of the Eoyal the Editor of Socicty of British Artists bears on a red ground, in e Mornins Post. „ , • rr\ i • n /r letters of gold, the title of the Society. To this Mr. Whistler, during his presidency, added with his own hand a decorative device of a lion and a butterfly. On the eve of our private view it was found that, while the title of the Society, being in pure gold, remained untarnished, Mr. Whistler's designs, being executed in spurious metals, had nearly disappeared, and what little remained of them was of a dirty brown. The board could not be put up in that state. The lion, however, was not so badly drawn as to make it necessary to do anything more than restore it in permanent colour, and that has accordingly been done. But as the notice board was no longer the actual work 224 THE GENTLE ART of Mr. Whistler, it would manifestly have been im- proper to have left the butterfly (his well-known signature) attached to it, even if it had not appeared in so crushed a state. The soiled butterfly was there- fore effaced. Yours, &c., April I, 1889. WYKE BAYLISS, Clapham. OF MAKING ENEMIES 225 Aussi que diable allait-il faire dans cette galeref' gIR— I have read Mr. Bayliss's letter, and am dis- armed. I feel the folly of kicking against the parish pricks. These things are right in Clapham, by the The Morning Post. COmmOn. " Via ce que cest, cest Hen fait — Fallaitpas qu'ily aille! fallait pas gu'il y aille!" And when, one of these days, all traces of history shall, by dint of much turpentine, and more Bayliss, have been effaced from the board that "belongs to us," I shall be justified, and it will be boldly denied by some dainty student that the delicate butterfly was ever " soiled " in Suflfolk Street. Yours, &c., 226 THE GENTLE ART The Royal Society of British Artists and their Signboard ^lE, — The moment has now arrived when, it seems to me proper that, in your journal, one of the recog- Tht Athenaum, nized Art organs of the country, should be recorded April 27, 1889. _ the details of an incident in which the element of grave offence is, not unnaturally, quite missed by the people in their indignation at the insignificance of the object to which public attention has so unwarrantably been drawn — a " notice board " ! — the common sign of commerce ! Now, however slight might be the value of the work in question destroyed, it is surely of startling interest to know that work may he destroyed^ or worse still, defaced and tampered with, at the present moment in full London, with the joyous approval of the major part of the popular press. I leave to your comment the fact that in this instance the act is committed with the tacit consent of a body of gentlemen officially styled " artists," at OF MAKING ENEMIES 227 the instigation of their president, as he unblushingly acknowledges, and will here distinctly state that the " notice board of the Royal Society of British Artists " did not " bear on a red ground, in letters of gold, the title of the Society," and that " to this Mr. Whistler, during his presidency," c?ic^ not ''add with his own hand a decorative device of a lion and a butterfly." This damning evidence, though in principle irrele- vant — for what becomes of the soul of a " Diocesan member of the Council of Clapham " is, artistically, a matter of small moment — I nevertheless bring for- ward as the only one that will at present be at all considered or even understood. The "notice board" was of the familiar blue enamel, well known in metropolitan use, with white lettering, announcing that the exhibition of the Incor- porated Society of British Artists was held above, and that for the sum of one shilling the public might enter. I myself mixed the " red ground," and myself placed, " in letters of gold, the " new " title " upon it — in proper relation to the decorative scheme of the whole design, of which it formed naturally an all- important feature. The date was that of the Society's Royal grant, and in commemoration of its new birth. With the offending Butterfly, it has now been efiaced in one clean sweep of independence, while the lion, 228 THE GENTLE ART " not so badly drawn," was differently dealt with — it was found not " necessary to do anything more than restore it in permanent colour, and that," with a bottle of Brunswick black, " has accordingly been done ; " and, as Mr. Bayliss adds, with unpremedi- tated truth, in the thoughtless pride of achieve- ment, " the notice board was no longer the actual work of Mr. Whistler ! " This exposure of Mr. Bayliss's direct method I have wickedly withheld, in order that the Philis- tine impulse of the country should declare itself in all its freshness of execration before it could be checked by awkward discovery of mere mendacity, and a timid sense of danger, called justice. Everything has taken place as I pleasantly fore- saw, and there is by this time, with the silent ex- ception of one or two cautious daiUes, scarcely a lay paper in the land that has been able to refrain from joining in the hearty yell of delight at the rare chance of coarsely, publicly, and safely insulting an artist ! In this eagerness to affront the man they have irre- trievably and ridiculously committed themselves to open sympathy with the destruction of his work. I wish coldly to chronicle this fact in the archives of the Athenceum for the future consideration of the cultured New Zealander. OF MAKING ENEMIES 229 An Official Letter 311^ — I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, officially informing me that the Committee award me a second-class gold medal. Pray convey my sentiments of tempered and re- spectable joy to the gentlemen of the Committee, and my complete appreciation of the second-hand compli- ment paid me. And I have, Sir, The honour to be Your most humble, obedient servant, J. McNeill whistler. To THE 1ST Secretary, Central Committee, International Art Exhibition, Munich. 230 THE GENTLE ART The Home of Taste The Ideas of Mr. Blankety Blank on House Decoration "pHE other day I happened to call on Mr. Blank, — Japanese Blank, you know, whose house is in far Fulham. The garden door flew open at my summons, and my eye was at once confronted with a house, the hue of whose face reminded me of a Venetian palazzo, for it was of a subdued pink If the ex- terior was Venetian, however, the interior was a compound of Blank and Japan. Attracted by the curiously pretty hall, I begged the artist to explain this — the newest style of house decoration. I need not say that Blank, being a man of an original turn of mind, with the decorative bump strongly developed, holds what are at present peculiar views upon wall papers, room tones, and so on. The day is dark and gloomy, yet once within the halls of Blank there is sweetness and light. OF MAKING ENEMIES 231 You must look through the open door into a luminous little chamber covered with a soft wash of lemon yellow. From the antechamber we passed through the open door into a large drawing-room, of the same soft lemon-yellow hue. The blinds were down, the fog reigned without, and yet you would have thought that the sun was in the room. Here let me pause in my description, and put on record the gist of our conversation concerning the Home of Taste. " Now, Mr. Blank, would you tell me how you came to prefer tones to papers ? " " Here the walls used to be covered with a paper of a sombre green, which oppressed me and made me sad," said Blank. ' Why cannot I bring the sun into the house,' I said to myself, ' even in this land of fog and clouds 1 ' Then I thought of my experiment and invoked the aid of the British house-painter. He brought his colours and his buckets, and I stood over him as he mixed his washes. " One night, when the work was nearing completion, one of them caught sight of himself in the mirror, and remarked with astonishment upon the loveliness of his own features. It was the lemon-yellow beauti- fying the British workman's flesh tones. 232 THE GENTLE ART " I assure you the effect of a room full of people in evening dress seen against the yellow ground is ex- traordinary, and," added Blank, " perhaps flattering." " Then do I understand that you would remove all wall papers ? " "A good ground for distemper," chuckled Mr. Blank. " But you propose to inaugurate a revolution." " I don't go so far as that, but I am glad to be able to introduce my ideas of house furnishing and house decoration to the public," said Blank, " and I may tell you that when I go to America with my Paris pictures, I shall try and decorate a house according to my own ideas, and ask the Americans to think about the matter." OF MAKING ENEMIES 233 Another Poacher in the Chelsea Preserves ^TLAS — Nothing matters but the unimportant; so, at the risk of advertising an Australian immigrant of Fulham — who, like the Kangaroo of his country, Theworid, Dec. a6, 1888. IS born with a pocket and puts everything into it — and, in spite of much wise advice, we ought not to resist the joy of noticing how readily a hurried con- temporary has fallen a prey to its superficial know- ledge of its various departments, and, culminating in a " Special Edition " last week to embody a lengthy in- terview headed " The Home of Taste," has discovered again the nest of the mare that was foaled years ago ! How, by the way, so smart a paper should have printed its naif emotions of ecstasy before the false colours which the " Kangaroo " has hoisted over his bush, defies all usual explanation, but clearly the jaunty reporter whose impudent familiarity, on a former memorable occasion, achieved my wondering admira- tion, must have been, in stress of business, replaced 234 "^HE GENTLE ART by a novice who had never breakfasted with you and me, Atlas, and the rest of the world, in the " lemon- yellow," of whose beautiful tone he now, for the first time, is so completely convinced. The "hue" on the "face" of the Fulham " Palazzo " he moreover calls " Venetian," and is pleased with it — and so was I, Atlas— /or I mixed it myself ! And yet, 0 Atlas, they say that I cannot keep a friend — my dear, I cannot afford it — and you only keep for me their scalps ! " Many, when a thing was lent them, reckoned it to be found, and put them to trouble that helped them." OF MAKING ENEMIES 235 A Suggestion CERTAIN painter has given himself away to an American journalist, unless that gentleman has romanced, in the Philadelphia Daily News. According Truth, ^ ^ O March 23, 1889. to him this person explained how he managed the press, and how he claimed to be the inventor of the system associated with the name of Mr. Whistler. The Art clubs and the studios have been flooded with the Philadelphia Daily News. Mr. Whistler sent on his own copy to the pretender, with the following note : — "You will blow your brains out, of course. Pigott has shown you what to do under the circumstances, and you know your way to Spain. Good-bye ! " 236 THE GENTLE ART The Habit of Second Natures ]y[OST Valiant Truth — Among your ruthless ex- posures of the shams of to-day, nothing, I confess, have I enjoyed with keener relish than your late tilt at that arch-impostor and pest of the period — the all- pervading plagiarist ! I learn, by the way, that in America he may, under the "Law of '84," as it is called, be criminally prose- cuted, incarcerated, and made to pick oakum, as he has hitherto picked brains — and pockets ! How was it that, in your Kst of culprits, you omitted that fattest of offenders — our own Oscar ? His methods are brought again freshly to my mind, by the indefatigable and tardy Romeike, who sends me newspaper cuttings of " Mr. Herbert Vivian's Reminiscences," in which, among other entertaining anecdotes, is told at length, the story of Oscar simu- lating the becoming pride of author, upon a certain evening, in the club of the Academy students, and OF MAKING ENEMIES 237 arrogating to himself the responsibility of the lecture, with which, at his earnest prayer, I had, in good fellowship, crammed him, that he might not add de- plorable failure to foolish appearance, in his anomalous position, as art expounder, before his clear-headed audience. He went forth, on that occasion, as my St. John — but, forgetting that humility should be his chief characteristic, and unable to withstand the unac- customed respect with which his utterances were re- ceived, he not only trifled with my shoe, but bolted with the latchet ! Mr. Vivian, in his book, tells us, further on, that lately, in an article in the Nineteenth Century on the " Decay of Lying," Mr. Wilde has deliberately and in- cautiously incorporated, " without a word of comment," a portion of the well-remembered letter in which, after admitting his rare appreciation and amazing memory, I acknowledge that " Oscar has the courage of the opinions .... of others ! " My recognition of this, his latest proof of open admiration, I send him in the following little note, which I fancy you may think d, propos to publish, as an example to your readers, in similar circumstances, of noble generosity in sweet reproof, tempered, as it should be, to the lamb in his condition : — 338 THE GENTLE ART " Oscar, you have been down the area again, I see ! " I had forgotten you, and so allowed your hair to grow over the sore place. And now, while I looked the other way, you have stolen your own scalp I and potted it in more of your pudding. "Labby has pointed out that, for the detected plagiarist, there is still one way to self-respect (besides hanging himself, of course), and that is for him boldly to declare, ' Je prends mon bien la ou je le trouve.' "You, Oscar, can go further, and with fresh effrontery, that will bring you the envy of all criminal confreres, unblushingly boast, ' Moi, je prends son bien la ou je le trouve ! ' " Chelsea. OF MAKING ENEMIES 239 In the Market Place gIR — I can hardly imagine that the public are in the very smallest degree interested in the shrill Truth, shrieks of " Plagiarism " that proceed from time to ^ ' time out of the lips of silly vanity or incompetent mediocrity. However, as Mr. James Whistler has had the impertinence to attack me with both venom and vulgarity in your columns, I hope you will allow me to state that the assertions contained in his letters are as deliberately untrue as they are deliberately offensive. The definition of a disciple as one who has the courage of the opinions of his master is really too old even for Mr. Whistler to be allowed to claim it, and as for borrowing Mr. Whistler's ideas about art, the only thoroughly original ideas I have ever heard him express have had reference to his own superiority as a painter over painters greater than himself. 240 THE GENTLE ART It is a trouble for any gentleman to have to notice the lucubrations of so ill-bred and ignorant a person as Mr. Whistler, but your publication of his insolent letter left me no option in the matter. — I remain, Sir, faithfully yours, OSCAR WILDE. OF MAKING ENEMIES 241 Panic TRUTH ! — Cowed and humiliated, I acknowledge that our Oscar is at last original. At bay, and sublime in his agony, he certainly has, for once, borrowed from no living author, and comes out in his own true colours — as his own " gentleman." How shall I stand against his just anger, and his damning allegations ! for it must be clear to your readers, that, beside his clean polish, as prettily set forth in his epistle, I, alas ! am but the " ill-bred and ignorant person," whose "lucubrations" "it is a trouble" for him "to notice." Still will I, desperate as is my condition, point out that though " impertinent," " venomous," and " vul- gar," he claims me as his " master" — and, in the dock, bases his innocence upon such relation between us. In all humility, therefore, I admit that the out- come of my "silly vanity and incompetent me- diocrity," must be the incarnation : " Oscar Wilde." Q 242 THE GENTLE ART Mea culpa! the Gods may perhaps forgive and forget. To you, Truth — champion of the truth — I leave the brave task of proclaiming again that the story of the lecture to the students of the Royal Academy was, as I told it to you, no fiction. In the presence of Mr. Waldo Story did Oscar make his prayer for preparation ; and at his table was he entrusted with the materials for his crime. You also shall again unearth, in the Nineteenth Century Review of Jan. 1889, page 37, the other appropriated property, slily stowed away, in an article on "The Decay of Lying" — though why Decay ! To shirk this matter thus is craven, doubtless; but I am awe-stricken and tremble, for truly, " the rage of the sheep is terrible ! " OF MAKING ENEMIES 243. Just Indignation QSCAE — How dare you! "What means this dis- guise? Uponperceivingthe Poet, in Polish cap Restore those things to Nathan's, and never again b^fro^gliranr*'' 1 1 A? 1 T , wonderfully be- let me tmd you masquerading the streets of my Chelsea in the combined costumes of Kossuth and Mr. Mantalini ! GENTLE ART An Advanced Critic TO THE EDITOR : CIK— I find myself obliged to notice the critical review of the » Ten o'Olock," that appeared in your paper (March 6). In the interest of my publishers, I beg to state p^l^^a^^^^eu., formally that the work has not as yet been issued at all— and I would point out that what is still in the hands of the printer, cannot possibly have fallen into the fingers of your incautious contributor ! The early telegram is doubtless the ambition of this smart, though premature and restless one— but he is wanting in habit, and unhappy in his haste !— What wHl you? The Pall Mall and the people have been imposed upon. Be good enough, Sir, to insert this note, lest the public suppose, upon your authority, that the "Ten o'clock," as yet unseen in the window of Piccadilly, has, in consequence of this sudden summing up, been hurriedly withdrawn from circulation. — I am, Sir, OF MAKING ENEMIES 245 Tke Advantage of Explanation TO THE EDITOR: « gIR — Just three weeks after publication Mr. Whist- ler " finds himself obliged to notice the critical review of the * Ten o'Clock ' that appeared in your paper." He points out that " what is still in the hands of the printer cannot possibly have fallen into the fingers of your incautious contributor." I do not pretend to be acquainted with the multitudinous matters that may be in the hands of his publishers' printers. But I can declare — and you, Sir, will corroborate me — that a printed copy of Mr. Whistler's smart but mislead- ing lecture was placed in my hands for review, and, moreover, that the notice did not appear until the pamphlet was duly advertised by Messrs. Chatto and Windus as ready. It is, of course, a matter of regret to me if, as Mr. Whistler suggests, his publishers' interests are likely to suffer from the review; but if 246 THE GENTLE ART an author's work, in the reviewer's opinion, be full of rash statement and mischievous doctrine, the pub- lishers must submit to the risk of frank criticism. But it will be observed that Mr. Whistler is merely seeking to create an impression that your Reviewer never saw the work he criticized, which is surely not a creditable position to take up, even by a sensitive man writhing under adverse criticism. — I am. Sir, most obediently. YOUR REVIEWER. OF MAKING ENEMIES 247 Testimony TO THE EDITOR: glR— My apologies, I pray you, to the much dis- turbed gentleman, '* Your Reviewer," who complains that I have allowed " just three weeks " to go by with- Pa^iMaii Gazette. out noticing his writing. Let me hasten, lest he be further offended, to acknowledge his answer, in Saturday's paper. After much matter, he comes unexpectedly upon a clear understanding of my letter — "It will be observed," he says naively, "that Mr. Whistler is merely seeking to create an impression that your Reviewer never saw the work he criticized," — herein he is completely right, this is absolutely the impres- sion I did seek to create — " which," he continues, " is surely not a creditable position to take up " — again I agree with him, and admit the sad spectacle a " Reviewer " presents in such position. 24? THE GENTLE ART He further declares," and calls upon you, Sir, to "corroborate" him, "that a printed copy of Mr. Whistler's misleading lecture was placed in my hands for review " — and moreover, that " the notice did not appear until the pamphlet was duly advertised by Messrs. Chatto and Windus as ready." Pausing to note that if the lecture had not seemed misleading to him, it would surely not have been worth vittering at all, I come to the copy in question — this could only have been a printed proof, quaintly acquired — as will be seen by the following letter from Messrs. Chatto and Windus, which I must beg you Sir, to publish, with this note — as it deals also with the remaining point, the advertisement of the pamphlet. And, I am, Sir, The following is the letter from Mr. Whistler's publishers : — Dear Sir — In reply to your question we have to say that we certainly have not sent out any copy of the "Ten o'Clock" to the press, or to anybody else excepting yourself. The work is still in the OF MAKING ENEMIES 249 printers' hands, and we have for a long time past been advertising it only as " shortly " to be published ; indeed, only a few proofs have so far been taken from the type. Yours faithfully, CHATTO AND WINDUS. 25© THE GENTLE ART An Apostasy 'pO speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth may justly be required of the average Mr. whistier s witness; it cannot be expected, it should not be ^|Xn"e^''^''" exacted, of any critical writer or lecturer on any ^^^^-^'Jj^^ ^ggg form of art .... And it appears to one at least of those unfortunate "outsiders" for whose judgment or whose " meddling " Mr. Whistler has so imperial and Olympian a contempt Let us begin at the end, as all reasonable people always do: we shall j&nd that Mr. Whistler con- cedes to Greek art a place beside Japanese. Now this, on his own showing, wUl never do ; it crosses, it contravenes, it nullifies, it pulverizes his theory or his principle of artistic limitation. If Japanese reflection: art is right in confining itself to what can be """'"^i^^'" " broidered upon the fan " — and the gist of the ^ whole argument is in favour of this assumption — ^ OF MAKING ENEMIES 251 then the sculpture which appeals, indeed, first of all to our perception of beauty, to the delight of the eye, to the wonder and the worship of the instinct or the sense, but which in every possible instance appeals also to far other intuitions and far other sympathies than these, is as absolutely wrong, as demonstrably inferior, as any picture or as any carving which may be so degenerate and so debased as to concern itself with a story or a subject. REFLECTION: Assurcdly Phidias thought of other things than "ar- jardfs''wind!'shaii raugemcnts " * in marble — as certainly as ^schylus he Painter cease thought of other things than " arrangements " in metre. Nor, I am sorely afraid, can the adored Velasquez be promoted to a seat "at the foot of Fusi-yama." Japanese art is not merely the in- comparable achievement of certain harmonies in colour; it is the negation, the immolation, the anni- hilation of everything else. By the code which accepts as the highest of models and of masterpieces the cups and fans and screens with which " the poor world " md^creens," '^"^ ^^^s bccn as grfevously " pestered " of late years as rases, and figurines evor it was lu Shalcespearo's time " with such water- )f 1 anagra, and Other -watermes." fljes— " dimiuutivcs of naturo "— as excited the scorn of his moralizing cynic, Velasquez is as unquestionably condemned as is Raphael or Titian. It is true that this miraculous power of hand (?)t makes beautiful REFLECTION: REFLECTION . t Quite hopeless 1 252 THE GENTLE ART for us the deformity of dwarfs, and dignifies the degradation of princes ; but that is not the question. It is true, again, that Mr. Whistler's own merest reflection: *' arrangements " in colour are lovely and effective;* B^^'f^J^/"^^^^'!^ but his portraits, to speak of these alone, are liable ""effective.'"'^ to the damning and intolerable imputation of pos- sessing not merely other qualities than these, but qualities which actually appeal — I blush to remember REFLECTION; and I shudder to record it — which actually appeal to thCTlfofe'.'ron.'''" the intelligence t and the emotions, to the mind and f essedly does not t^e'iiilence.'emo"' heart of thc spectator. It would be quite useless for heart of the Bard Mr. Whistler to protest — if haply he should be so even when aided by the "effective." (Jisposed — that he never meant to put study of character and revelation of intellect into his portrait of Mr. Carlyle, or intense pathos of significance and tender depth of expression into the portrait of his own venerable mother. The scandalous fact re- mains, that he has done so; and in so doing has explicitly violated and implicitly abjured the creed and the canons, the counsels and the catechism of Japan And when Mr. Whistler informs us that "there never was an artistic period," we must reply that the statement, so far as it is true, is the flattest of all possible truisms ; for no mortal ever maintained that there ever was a period in which all men were either OF MAKING ENEMIES 253 good artists or good judges of art. But when we pass from the positive to the comparative degree of historic or retrospective criticism, we must ask whether the lecturer means to say that there have not been times when the general standard of taste and judgment, reason and perception, was so much higher than at other times and such periods may justly and accu- rately be defined as artistic. If he does mean to say this, he is beyond answer and beneath confutation; in other words, he is where an artist of Mr. Whistler's genius and a writer of Mr. Whistler's talents can by no possibility find himself. If he does not mean to say this, what he means to say is exactly as well worth saying, as valuable and as important a piece of infor- mation, as the news that Queen Anne is no more, or that two and two are not generally supposed to make five. But if the light and glittering bark of this brilliant amateur in the art of letters is not invariably steered with equal dexterity of hand between the Scylla and Charybdis of paradox and platitude, it is impossible that in its course it should not once and again touch upon some point worth notice, if not exploration. Even that miserable animal the " unattached writer " may gratefully and respectfully recognize his accurate apprehension and his felicitous application of well- 254 THE GENTLE ART nigh the most hackneyed verse in all the range of Shakespeare's — which yet is almost invariably mis- construed and misapplied — " One touch of nature makes the whole world kin ; " and this, as the poet goes on to explain, is that all, with one consent, prefer worthless but showy novelties to precious but familiar possessions. "This one chord that vibrates with all," says Mr. Whistler, who proceeds to cite artistic examples of the lamentable fact, " this one unspoken sympathy that pervades humanity, is — Vulgarity." But the consequence which he proceeds to indicate and to deplore is calculated to strike his readers with a sense of mild if hilarious astonishment. It is that men of sound judgment and pure taste, quick feehngs and clear perceptions, most unfortunately and most inexplicably begin to make their voices " heard in the land." Person, as all the world knows, observed of the Germans of his day that " in Greek " they were " sadly to seek." It is no discredit to Mr. Whistler if this is his case also ; but then he would do well to eschew the use of a Greek term lying so far out of the common way as the word " sesthete." Not merely reflection the only accurate meaning, but the only possible mean- PomolseT''^ ing, of that word is nothing more, but nothing less, than this — an intelligent, appreciative, quick-witted person ; in a word, as the lexicon has it, " one who perceives." OF MAKING ENEMIES 255 The man who is no aesthete stands confessed, by the logic of language and the necessity of the case, as a thick-witted, tasteless, senseless, and impenetrable blockhead. I do not wish to insult Mr. Whistler, but I feel bound to avow my impression that there is no man now living who less deserves the honour of enrolment in such ranks as these — of a seat in the synagogue of the anaesthetic .... Such abuse of language is possible only to the drivelling desperation of venomous or fangless duncery : it is in higher and graver matters, of wider bearing and of deeper import, that we find it neces- sary to dispute the apparently serious propositions or assertions of Mr. Whistler. How far the witty tongue may be thrust into the smiling cheek when the lecturer pauses to take breath between these remarkably brief paragraphs it would be certainly indecorous and possibly superfluous to inquire. But his theorem is unquestionably calculated to provoke the loudest and the heartiest mirth that ever acclaimed REFLECTION : * Is not, then, the the advent of Momus or Ervcina. For it is this — that t At what pointo neralhymna *' r^"0 clock does Jger'Tfthe'^erse * " ^^t and Joy go together," and tliaff tragic art is find fhTsIa "t-ws sTjeautifuI ! „ own inconse- . , TlOt art at all quence? Certainly the fu- J c ;'vorthySa.'° .... The laughing Muse of the lecturer, " quam ^ :Seath"?mi!^stfirs't Jocus circumvolat," must have glanced round in expec- ! a joy to the ° ^ ^lgne7it.° tation of the general appeal, "After that let us take The Bard's reasoning is of the People. His Trag-edy is theirs. As one of em, the man may weep— yet will the artist rejoice— for to him is not " A ing of beauty a joy for ever " t REFLECTION ! Before the mar- vels of centuries, silence, the only tribute of the out- sider, is by him refused — and the dignity of ignor- ance lost in speech. 256 THE GENTLE ART breath." And having done so, they must have remem- bered that they were not in a serious world ; that they were in the fairyland of fans, in the paradise of pipkins, in the limbo of blue china, screens, pots, plates, jars, joss- houses, and all the fortuitous frippery of Fusi-yama, It is a cruel but an inevitable Nemesis which reduces even a man of real genius, keen-witted and sharp- sighted, to the level of the critic Jobson, to the level of the dotard and the dunce, when paradox is dis- coloured by personality and merriment is distorted by malevolence.(!) No man who really knows the qualities of Mr. Whistler's best work will imagine that he really believes the highest expression of his art to be real- ized in reproduction of the grin and glare, the smirk and leer, of Japanese womanhood as represented in its professional types of beauty ; but to all appearance he would fain persuade us that he does. In the latter of the two portraits to which I have already referred there is an expression of living char- acter This, however, is an exception to the general rule of Mr. Whistler's way of work : an excep- tion, it may be alleged, which proves the rule. A single infraction of the moral code, a single breach of artistic law, suffices to vitiate the position of the preacher. And this is no slight escapade, or casual aberration \ it is a full and frank defiance, a deliberate and elaborate REFLECTION If an aesthete, the Bard is not; collector 1 OF MAKING ENEMIES 257 denial, hurled right in the face of Japanese jocosity, flung straight in the teeth of the theory which con- demns high art, under penalty of being considered intelligent, to remain eternally on the grin. • If it be objected that to treat this theorem gravely is "to consider too curiously " the tropes and the phrases of a jester of genius, I have only to answer that it very probably may be so, but that the excuse for such error must be sought in the existence of the genius. A m^n of genius is scarcely at liberty to choose whether he shall or shall not be considered as a serious figure — one to be acknowledged and respected as an equal or a superior, not applauded and dismissed as a tumbler or a clown. And if the better part of Mr. Whistler's work as an artist is to be accepted as the work of a serious and intelligent creature, it would seem incongruous and preposterous to dismiss the more characteristic points of his theory as a lecturer with the chuckle or the shrug of mere amusement or amazement. Moreover, if considered as a joke, a mere joke, and nothing but a joke, this gospel of the grin has hardly matter or meaning enough in it to support so elaborate a structure of paradoxical rhetoric. It must be taken, therefore, as something serious in the main ; and if so taken, and read by the light reflected from Mr. Whistler's more characteristically brilliant R 258 THE GENTLE ART canvases, it may not improbably recall a certain phrase of Moliere's which at once passed into a proverb — " Vous etes orfevre, M. Josse." That worthy trades- man, it will be remembered, was of opinion that nothing could be so well calculated to restore a droop- ing young lady to mental and physical health as the present of a handsome set of jewels. Mr. Whistler^ s Kg FLECTION: opiuion that there is nothing like leather — of a jovial cial siimniinff up — and Japanese design — savours somewhat of the Oriental excused by the " Great Emperorl" cordwoiner. OF MAKING ENEMIES 259 ^u, Brute!'' "YyHY, 0 brother! did you not consult with me before printing, in the face of a ribald world, tliat you also misunderstand, and are capable of saying so, with vehemence and repetition. Have I then left no man on his legs ? — and have I shot down the singer in the far off, when I thought him safe at my side ? Cannot the man who wrote Atalanta—&ndi the BalladsheBMtilxil, — can he not be content to spend his life with his work, which should be his love,— and has for him no misleading doubt and darkness— that he should so stray about blindly in his brother's flower- beds and bruise himself ! Is life then so long with him, and his art so short, that he shall dawdle by the way and wander from his path, reducing his giant intellect— garru- lous upon matters to him unknown, that the scoffer may rejoice and the Phihstine be appeased while he 26o THE GENTLE ART takes up the parable of the mob and proclaims him- self their spokesman and fellow-sufferer ? 0 Brother ! where is thy sting ! O Poet ! where is thy victory ! How have I offended ! and how shall you in the midst of your poisoned page hurl with impunity the boomerang rebuke % " Paradox is discoloured by personality, and merriment is distorted by malevo- lence." Who are you, deserting your Muse, that you should insult my Goddess with familiarity, and the manners of approach common to the reasoners in the market- place. " Hearken to me," you cry, " and I wiU point out how this man, who has passed his life in her worship, is a tumbler and a clown of the booths — how he who has produced that which I fain must acknow- ledge — is a jester in the ring ! Do we not speak the same language? Are we strangers, then, or, in our Father's house are there so many mansions that you lose your way, my brother, and cannot recognize your kin % Shall I be brought to the bar by my own blood, and be borne false witness against before the plebeian people ? Shall I be made to stultify myself by what I never said— and shall the strength of your testimony turn upon me 1 " If "— " If Japanese Art is right in confining itself to what can be broidered upon the OF MAKING ENEMIES 261 fan" .... and again . . , that he really believes the highest expression of his ai-t to be realized in re- production of the grin and glare, the smirk and leer " . . . . and further .... "the theory which con- demns high art, under the penalty of being considered intelligent, to remain eternally on the grin " . . . . and much more ! "Amateur writer!" Well should I deserve the reproach, had I ventured ever beyond the precincts of my own science — and fatal would have been the exposure, as you, with heedless boldness, have un- wittingly proven. Art tainted with philanthropy — that better Art result ! — Poet and Peabody ! You have been misled — you have mistaken the pale demeanour and joined hands for an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual earnestness. For you, these are the serious ones, and, for them, you others are the serious matter. Their joke is their work. For me — why should I refuse mj^self the grim joy of this grotesque tragedy— and, with them now, you all are my joke ! 262 THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES Freeing a Last Friend gRAVO ! Bard ! and exquisitely written, I suppose, as becomes your state. The scientific irrelevancies and solemn popularities, less elaborately embodied, I seem to have met with T^m>m^ before — in papers signed by more than one serious and unqualified sage, whose mind also was not nar- rowed by knowledge. I have been " personal," you say ; and, faith ! you prove it! Thank you, my dear ! I have lost a confrere ; but, then, I have gained an acquaintance — one Algernon Swinburne — " outsider " — Putney. 264 THE GENTLE ART An Editor's Anxiety is reported that Mr. Whistler, having received word that a drawing of his had been rejected by the Committee of the Universal Exhibition, arrived yes- terday in Paris and withdrew all his remaining works, including an oil painting and six drawings. The French consider that he has been guilty of a breach of good manners. The Paris, for instance, points out that, after sending his works to the jury, he should have accepted their judgment, and appealed to the public by other methods. OF MAKING ENEMIES 265 Rassurez vous ! TO THE EDITOR: I have not " withdrawn " my works " from the forthcoming Paris Exhibition." I transported my pictures from the American department to the British section of the " Exposi- tion Internationale," where I prefer to be represented. " The French " have nothing, so far, to do with English or American exhibits. A little paragraph is a dangerous tiling. And I am, Sir, Chelsea. 266 THE GENTLE ART Whistlers Grievance AN ENTRAPPED INTERVIEW. 'P'HE Herald correspondent saw Mr. Whistler at the Hotel Suisse, and asked the artist about his affairs with the American Art Jury of the Exhibition. "I believe the Herald made the statement," said Nnv York Herald Paris Edition, Mr. Whistler, " that I had withdrawn all my etchings oct. 3. 1889. and a full-length portrait from the American section. It all came about in this way : In the first place, before the pictures were sent in, I received a note from the American Art Department asking me to contribute some of my work. It was at that time difficult for me to collect many of my works ; but I borrowed what I could from different people, and sent in twenty-seven etchings and the portrait." " You can imagine that a few etchings do not have any effect at all ; so I sent what I could get together. Shortly afterwards I received a note saying : * Sir — OF MAKING ENEMIES 267 Ten of your exhibits have not received the approval of the jury. Will you kindly remove them ? ' " "At the bottom of this note was the name * Hawkins ' — General Hawkins, I believe — ^a cavalry officer, who had charge of the American Art Depart- ment of the Exhibition. " Well 1 the next day I went to Paris and called at the American headquarters of the Exhibition. I was ushered into the presence of this gentleman, Hawkins, to whom I said :— ' I am Mr. Whistler, and I believe this note is from you. I have come to remove my etchings ' ; but I did not mention that my work was to be transferred to the English Art Section." " ' Ah ! ' said the gentleman — the officer — • we were very sorry not to have had space enough for all your etchings, but we are glad to have seventeen and the portrait." " ' You are too kind,' I said, * but really I will not trouble you.' " " Mr. Hawkins was quite embarrassed, and urged me to reconsider my determination, but I withdrew every one of the etchings, and they are now well hung in the English Department." "I did not mind the fact that my works were criticized, but it was the discourteous manner in which it was done. If the request to me had been 268 THE GENTLE ART made in proper language, and they had simply said :