THE HAPPY WARRIOR.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 13806, 18 January 1909, Page 7

THE HAPPY WARRIOR.

The following interest-big account ot "The Life of James McNeil Whistler," is from the pen of (_'. Lewis linid, tor iiie London " Daily Chronicle " >— "We, shall begin with a test taken from page 29iJ of Volume I. : "Because he was the gayest man who ever-lived, they (ttie public) refused, to, see that he was also the most serious artist;, the combination bewildered them." f " . Of course the combination bewildered tliem—them " forming almost the entire .population of our clear land oi one ''hundred religions and one sauce. As an artist Whistler was the most serious of men; as a man.lie was a pitiless wit, a Telentless foe, quick as Qlightning, and indifferent as lightning to the object seared or - riven, lie fought to win; he used any sort of weapon: he slew with such skill that we were apt before liisj dazzling antics to rejoice in the discomfiture of his adversaries; and yet,, perhaps, with the exception of thc/Kuskin and Lithography affairs, his adversaries deserved our full sympa,£liy. But whether his cause was just vr unjust, it was the fighting quality ,in "Whistler that we admired, realising that he was as earnest and serious in his guerilla warfare as in his art.

On the Wing. He danced, hopped, and flew 'through life; until fatigue and illness overtook him his spirit were always oil the wing. He frisks radiantly through these vulumes, and so insistent is his personality that not until the reading is finished, and the glitter of his wit and the colour of "pose and prose dimmed, can we disrobe " the gayest man "who ever lived," who " deliberately wrapped ..himself' for protection in a species of .misunderstanding," to find .the artist go serious, so sure of the -riglitness of-hiss own exquisite vision and . exquisite taste, so scornful •of the prevalent art commercialism, and the successful British painters'", flourishing ai the days when he went tomahawiirg and restoring beauty to . our walls and rooms. There • are, few artists- anywhere, at any time, iu the world; there are many painters,. was an artist, the rarest kind of artist, •whose taste was as delicately sure as the lonely song of a thrush singing in the rain. But-a thrush is- content just to sing. It does not peck every other bird chat sings differently! ✓ His Divine Taste. His taste is evident in his portraits, his nocturnes, his marines—a few pale sails, against a grey sea and sky—his etchings, witlj their, marvellous tact of ■ omission, his pastels. What could be in more exquisite taste than his pastel of a young nude girl, slim and-ob-livious of her beauty, sipping a cup of tea? Tliiuk of the vulgar, buxom nudes that flout from the walls of picture galleries, and then of -this -child. Think of the "Piano, Picture,", his " Mother ." -. -

His hand was playing with that tuft upon. his nether- hyu It perhaps two, minutes before he spoke.-, " \es,~" very slowly and very softly—"' Yes —one does/like to make one's inuniuiy as nice .•possible." /"Think of his nocturne, blue : nd gold, called' "Old Battersea Bridge," now at the.'Tate Gallery. Whistler, like eyery other great man, took his good where ho found it,' from Velasquez, from Japan, but not from his adored Hogarth, and not overmuch from his beloved Canaletto and GuardL When lie painted ''Old, Battersea Bridge/' na. doubt; he had looked upon JhLiroshige, /but in tlie alembic ot his taste something infinitely larger, simpler and'more mysterious was distilled irom Mature and the bridge of Hirosmge. "When the dazzle of the Wliistlerian facets makes one blink and doubt the way, as after, reading ,31r and Mrs I'enuell's, biography, it is saliitarv -o stand before the blue and gold nocturne of " Old Battersea Bridge," compact of feeling and beauty, and a vision selected With unerring taste. And is well to" read the extract from the " ten o'clock " lecture printed in . the Tate Gallery catalogue. Most of Whistler is there, the wasp and the seer, the .poet and the petty publicist; there you .lind his/joy in loveliness, his .choice/ of lovely - words, his laudation of tlie artist, .his', contempt for tlia lack -of artistry, in nature, and his scorn - for the : inartistic mere man. "Nature,, who.ipr once has sung in tune, sings lier exquisite song to the artist alone." If —and If? . * Que wonders what would have happened had Whistler been content to be; had he never chided, never collected scalps; had his. just done his work and .left it.at that.. Great cause for exasperation he had, - > but so have other great men, and . not all navo : comb'into their own so abundantly during tffeir lifetime. Few have had such reverjent, accomplished, ancL-industrious biographers. T lie impartiality -of Air ; aiid Mrs Penncll has been, much admired. They narrate episodes ' that, to aii ordinary level-headed reader, tollagainst their hero; they state them with the even temper ,'oi a Minister bringing in a Bill in which he wholeheartedly believes. I confess that/to me this was "a'little bewildering until I found the clue. Air and Mrs PfUr nell consider Whistler "the greatest, artist and- most striking personality of. tlie nineteenth century." T :l.e .''he .

Mhster, they are saymg;. 'throughout the. book—" We are not arguing with you Islanders, we are teljing you.".Mr William Hciiiemaniij the publisher j of the volumes, would, I am.su're, entirely concur. • ' _ is -; ■ When I ask myself wliich of the many pages, have, produced the strongest impression', upon me, rny choice falls upon tlie record contributed . .by Mr G. Sauten of Whistler's visit to the Era lis Hals masterpieces at Haarlem. 111, near his end, he was staying at The IJj-.; i?, r lid Mr Sauter, who proposed visiting Haarlem, tried to dissuade Whistler from accompanying the party, fearing «-ua,t his health could not stand the journey and the excitement. But V histler went by a later train, alone. He appeared iii the doorway,, smiling, and crept, under the railing close* up to one of. the Frans Hals. His excitement and enthusiasm increased : . . . There was the real Whistler —the

man, the artist, the painter—there was lio - " why drag in. Yclasqucz " spirit — but the spirit of a youth, lull of ardour, Full of plans, on the threshold of his work, oblivious v.of the achievements of a lifetime. Moved —and 'Moving.'

Nothing but a long quotation will' help the reader to realise this scene: ■He went, under the railing ag£iin,' turning , round towards me, saying, "Now do get me a chair.'' And alter it was pushed under the railing he went on, ""Aiifi now do liel;v me oil: tne top of ; it."- From that moment there was uo holding him back he went absolutely into raptures over the old women—admiring everything—his exclamation Ot* joy came out now at the top of his voice, now iu the .most tender, almost caressing whisper—"Look at it —just look—look at the beautiiul colour—the flesh —look at. the white that black —look how these ribbons are put in. O what a swell lie was —can vou see it all —and the character how he-realised it" —moving with his hand 60 near the picture as if he wanted to caress it in every detail he screamed With jov, "Oh. I must touch it —just for tho" tun of it'; and lie moved tenderly with his fingers over the lace of one of the. old women.

Yefc: there was the. real AMiistlcr, quite sincere, very much in earnest, yet well 'aware that lie lia.d -an audience. But "when • 11-was "iiriioh moved, and Euddcnly, he hiss audience, llwJ

tho ready words were choked. There is the Bentdsley story. AMiistlcr laughed at- him> and did not particularly lute his Work. But one day lie was sliuw>i the "Rape of the Lock" drawings. He examined them indifferently, then with interest, then he said slowly, ' brey, I have made a very great mistake —you arc a very' great artist." At this. We are told, the. boy burst out crying. And all Whistler could say when he could say anything Was, " I mean it —I mean it—l mean it."