CHAPTER XLIII: THE INTERNATIONAL.
THE YEARS EIGHTEEN NINETY-SEVEN TO NINETEEN HUNDRED AND THREE.
That artists should hold Exhibitions of International Art was Whistler's idea. He had always hoped for a gallery where he could show his work in his own way with the work of men in sympathy with him. Often, and years before, he talked to us of this. It mattered little to him where the gallery should be, in New York or London, Paris or Berlin: the exhibition should not be local or national, but an Art Congress for the artists of the world. This was his aim. The men whom he wished to have associated with him lived mostly in London, where now the greater part of his time was spent, and London seemed the place for the first exhibition. He and Mr. E. A. Walton tried to lease the Grosvenor Gallery, and when they failed they turned to the Grafton. But again there were difficulties, and nothing definite was done until 1897, when a young journalist, who was painting, Mr. Francis Howard, conceived the idea of promoting a company to hold an exhibition at Prince's Skating Club, Knightsbridge. As the artists were to incur no financial responsibilities and to have complete artistic control, Whistler consented to co-operate. The first meeting, the minutes record, was on December 23, 1897, and John Lavery, E. A. Walton, G. Sauter, and Francis Howard were present. Whistler, who had been consulted, at first agreed that members of the Royal Academy and other artistic bodies should be admitted, and at the second meeting, February 7, 1898, Mr. Alfred Gilbert, R.A., took the chair. A circular, unsigned and undated, was then issued calling attention to a proposed exhibition of International Art, and on it appeared the names of James McNeill Whistler, Alfred Gilbert, Frederick Sandys, John Lavery, James Guthrie, Arthur Melville, Charles W. Furse, Charles Ricketts, C. Hazlewood Shannon, E. A. Walton, Joseph Farquharson, Maurice Greiffenhagen, Will Rothenstein, G. Sauter, Francis Howard. It stated, with a clumsiness Whistler could hardly have passed had he seen the circular beforehand, that the object of the Society was the much-needed "organisation in London of Exhibitions of the finest Art of the time ... the non-recognition of nationality in Art, and the hanging and placing of works irrespective of such consideration.... The Exhibitions, filling as they will an unoccupied place in the cosmopolitan ground of International Art, will not be in opposition to existing institutions."
An Executive Council appointed itself, and on February 16, 1898, Whistler was unanimously elected Chairman. The most distinguished artists of every nationality were invited to join an Honorary Council. The Executive, to which J., on Whistler's nomination, was elected in March, was to have entire charge of the affairs of the exhibition. There were to be no ordinary members, but only honorary members by invitation.
Jealousies and preferences immediately crept in. Mr. Gilbert resigned, which was much to be regretted, and several other English members withdrew from the Council, which speedily became as international as the name of the society, the International Society of Sculptors, Painters, and Gravers, into which it formed itself two months later (April 23), when officers were elected, and Whistler, proposed by Mr. Lavery and seconded by Mr. J. J. Shannon, was chosen President, Mr. Lavery Vice-President, and Mr. Francis Howard, Honorary Secretary.
The International was the second society of artists over which Whistler presided. Only ten years had passed since his resignation from the British Artists, but the change in his position before the world was great. The British Artists, an old and decrepit body, had chosen him as President in the hope that his "notoriety" and his following of young men would bring the advertisement they needed; the International, a young, vigorous organisation, elected him because they knew that no other artist could give them such distinction and distinguished foreign artists such assurance that their work would be hung in a country where previously, through fear of competition and insular prejudice, it had been rejected. In the eighties Whistler was mistrusted; in the nineties he was acknowledged as one of the great artists of the century. The change in his position was not greater than his influence on contemporary art. This influence had been pointed out by the few for some years past. But the last decade had strengthened it until it could no longer be denied. The younger generation had accepted him in the meanwhile, admitted their debt to him, and proclaimed it openly in their work. The New English Art Club abjured subject and sentiment for the "painter's poetry" wherever it might lurk, whether in the London bus transformed by the London atmosphere, or in the Lion-Comique, transfigured on the music-hall stage; though, as Whistler once said, the New English Art Club was "only a raft," while the International was to be a "battleship" of which he would take command. The Glasgow School accepted his teaching and then copied his technique, in some cases pushing imitation to folly. But still, all that was healthiest and best in the art of the country came from these two groups, and members of both had made an international reputation before the International was founded. Even in the Academy anecdote had lost for an interval its pre-eminence, and it looked as if Academicians might begin to understand that the painter's sole object need not be to tell a story. Besides, there were two artists, R. A. M. Stevenson and J., writing upon art, and they taught young men to have faith in Whistler, and the "new criticism was born," and D. S. MacColl was the name of the first and only child.
Nor was Whistler's influence confined to England. From the early eighties, when the jury was becoming more representative at the old Salon, the pictures he sent to it had been hung. From the early nineties the new Salon gave them prominence. Other recent influences in France had waxed and waned. The realism of Bastien-Lepage, which sank into photography with painters of less accomplishment, and the square brush-mark were already vieux jeu. Impressionism had swamped itself in chemical problems, and the technique of the Impressionists had been degraded to the exaggerations and absurdities of the Rose-Croix, to be swamped in turn by the latest fad of all. Whistler brought with him technical sanity, a feeling for beauty and reverence for tradition, and he, who had been called the most eccentric of poseurs in paint, led the way back to dignity and reticence in art, from which he had never swerved. His example was revealed in the work of artists of every nationality, either by frank imitation or else by their attitude towards Nature or the reserve of their technique. Because of this universal recognition, he was best qualified for the Presidency of an International Society of Artists.
The honour was paid him by no official body. Officially, to the last, he was destined to go without due recognition. In France he was an ordinary Sociétaire of the Société Nationale des Beaux-Arts. The National Academy of Design in America was as indifferent to him as the Royal Academy in England. His membership in the Academies of Dresden, Munich, Rome, and Scotland was a compliment—a compliment he could and did appreciate—but it carried no responsibilities and required no active work, and almost all these honours came after the International was started. But the new society, if not official, included on its executive the strongest outsiders in Great Britain, and had the support of the most distinguished men of his profession throughout the world. Their choice of him was an acknowledgment of his supremacy as artist and an expression of confidence in him as leader, and he took no less pleasure in their tribute than trouble not to disappoint their expectations. His experience with the British Artists was a help in constituting the Society. The sole authority rested with the Executive Council, the members of which elected themselves and could not be got rid of except by their voluntary resignation or expulsion. Theoretically the idea was magnificent, if the narrowest and most autocratic. "Napoleon and I do these things," Whistler said, and Suffolk Street had taught him that an intelligent autocrat is the best leader possible. His policy, if autocratic, was broad. In most societies painting held a monopoly, but, in his, sculpture and "graving" should have equal importance. All his rules were far-seeing and practical, and the decline of the Society since his death is due to the disregard of them: a disregard which his associates still on the Council who are true to his memory cannot prevent—or forget.
The first exhibition was opened in May 1898. The Skating Rink at Knightsbridge was divided into three large and two small galleries. Whistler's scheme of decoration was adopted, and the hanging was more perfect than any up to that time even on the Continent. The President's velarium, without question of patent, was used, and he designed the seal for the Society and the cover of the catalogue. The artistic success of the show could not be questioned. No such collection of modern art had been seen in London, a proof that Whistler was as broad as the painters and the populace were sure he was narrow. The "Why drag in Velasquez?" story is often quoted by the ignorant and the foolish and the stupid. In this Exhibition he dragged in everyone of eminence, for, though the ignorant and the foolish and the stupid may never understand, the "Why drag in Velasquez?" was uttered only for their benefit. Whistler showed a group of early pictures: At the Piano, La Princesse du Pays de la Porcelaine, Rosa Corder, with later works: The Philosopher, The Little Blue Bonnet, his own half-length portrait in a white jacket, Brown and Gold. The sculpture was as interesting as the painting. There were drawings and engravings. Besides, his idea was to have special exhibitions, and Aubrey Beardsley, who had just died, was honoured. Before the show was over delegates were sent, and communications received, from Paris and Venice asking for an exchange of exhibitions.
Whistler came from Paris for the opening, a quiet affair as the endeavour to obtain the presence of the Prince of Wales failed, and he lunched with the Council on the opening day and attended one or two Sunday afternoon receptions. He agreed that a fine illustrated catalogue should be published by Mr. Heinemann, with The Little Blue Bonnet, in photogravure, as frontispiece. If the first exhibition was a complete artistic success it proved a complete financial failure. But luckily the Society had no pecuniary responsibility.
Whistler knew it is impossible for a man to serve actively in two rival societies; he had said so to the British Artists; and he determined that members of the Council of the International who were members of other societies must leave the Society, or, if not, he would. His decision was precipitated by a new election to the Council. He was in Paris, and the fact that two members of the Council, Lavery and J., left London at an hour's notice for the Rue du Bac to arrange matters with him shows how anxious he was for the welfare of his Society. They arrived early in the morning. Whistler was not up, but sent word that they must breakfast with him in the studio. During breakfast he talked of everything but the Society; after breakfast he made them listen to a Fourth of July spread-eagle oration squeaked out of a primitive gramophone that somebody had given him and that he loved; and it was not until twenty minutes before they had to start back that he referred to the Council. Then he had all his plans ready, and he stated what he proposed to do, and what he wanted done, what must be done—we might add, what was done. And not only at every crisis, but in every detail, he directed the management of the Society, and he demanded that every report, every project should be submitted to him. He expected the deference due to him as President, and in return he gave his unswerving support. Even during his last illness nothing was done without his knowledge and approval.