Whistler's diction was exceedingly terse and poignant and he managed to say, or at least to suggest to intelligent minds, in a few words a phrase or maxim, which would exact from more sluggish pens page after page of argument. Of course, his letters and replies to critics were written largely for effect. A well turned phrase was to him the ideal of diction and no doubt he rewrote every sentence a dozen times before he allowed it to go out to the public. It was to him a part—and a most serious part—of his profession. And whenever he did not deal with personalities and approached the technical principle on which his practice as artist was based, as in his "propositions," his observations and theories became lucid and convincing. Read his reply to the criticism which was caused by the withdrawal of two members from the Society of the British Artists, who left voluntarily knowing that changes of policy were inevitable under the presidency of Whistler. The attack in the London Daily News ended as follows:
"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.
(Signed) A British Artist."
Owned by Howard Mansfield
ARCHWAY, VENICE (PASTEL).
Whistler answered:
"Far from me to propose to penetrate the motives of such withdrawal, but what I do deny was that it could possibly be caused—as its strangely late announcement seemed sweetly to insinuate—by the strong determination to tolerate no longer the mediocre work that had hitherto habitually swarmed the walls of the Suffolk-street.
"This is a plain question of date, and I pointed out that these two gentlemen left the Society six months 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 naiveté rare at this moment, he proposes that 'it will be for the patrons of the gallery to decide whether the more than half-covered walls are more interesting 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.