"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 no,' matters but little; but if the policy of your correspondent's 'following' find itself among the ruthlessly rejected, his letter is more readily explained."
This is some logic and delicious sarcasm. It is to the point and there is nothing unpleasant in the entire argument. His art challenges and explanations always impress us in that manner.
That is why his art lecture, if it may be passed as such—it is exceedingly short as art lectures go—is so much more valuable as a literary document than his collected letters, though the latter are more amusing, and give perhaps a better insight into the author's personality. It is a concise résumé of modern art, not only the exploitation of one man's ideas, but rather a set of theories which reflect the thoughts of most of the younger and modern painters. It is written in a subjective way but the impression derived therefrom is objective. Whistler was one of the few great representatives of modern art, and if such a man has the gift to express his idea in a clear manner, a gift which most painters lack, he will necessarily reflect the aspirations of his contemporaries. As a piece of literature aside from the idea conveyed in it, I would compare it to Fromentin's "Le Desert," a charming treatise on colour and atmosphere, but as soon as it treats the more serious problems of art it becomes of deeper significance, and I, for my part, would not hesitate to mention it in the same breath with Lessing's "Laokoon." It has neither the dignity nor logical sequence of the Hamburgh philosopher, but the statements in it are more important, or at least, more significant to us than any theories of the German critic. I do not know of any book which is more reflective of modern art than Whistler's "Ten O'Clock." It filled a big gap, and its influence on the reasoning power (which, true enough, is small in many instances) of the modern painter has been far-reaching.
Owned by Howard Mansfield
THE JAPANESE DRESS (PASTEL).
Whistler's literary activity began about 1863, when he lived in Linsey Row, London. His pictures had been rejected from several leading London and Paris exhibitions, and, finally, when he succeeded in exhibiting his "Woman in White" at the Berner Street Galleries, during the spring months of 1862 (before sending it to Paris), it called forth a storm of derision and ridicule. His answer to a most silly criticism in the "Athenæum," that the face of his "Woman in White" was well done, but that it was not that of Mr. Wilkie Collins' heroine was his first attempt at repudiation. It was as follows:
"May I beg to correct an erroneous impression likely to be confirmed by a paragraph in your last number? The Berner Street Galleries have, without my sanction, called my picture the 'Woman in White.' I had no intentions whatsoever of illustrating Mr. Wilkie Collins' novel; it so happens, indeed, that I have never read it. My painting simply represents a girl in white standing in front of a white curtain. I am,
James Whistler."
The reply, in my mind, is rather commonplace. It has, as yet, nothing of Whistler's fine sarcasm and finished style. Almost anybody could have written it. The attitude of a critic to accept something as a starting point, and then to criticize a picture from that point, is such a commonplace occurrence that it was hardly worth answering.