In the article, then, ent.i.tled "The Royal Society of British Artists and its Future--An Interview with the New President"--a most appalling volley of figures was fired off at _brule-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. _I_ 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 during the year 1881 were under," whatever that may mean, "5000; 1882, under 6000; 1883, under 7000; 1884, under 8000; in 1885 ('the first year of Mr. Whistler's rule') they fell to under 4000; 1886, under 3000; 1887, under 2000; and the present year, under 1000."

But also Mr. Bayliss takes this rare occasion of attention, to a.s.sert 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 "Public Orator of Noviomagus."

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 Public Cyclist of the Royal Society of Noviomagus 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.

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 8000," until, under the baneful reign of terror and Whistler in 1885--"the first year" of the sacrilegious era--the receipts fell to 4000--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 pitched from his box, and half the money-bags had been already lost!--from 8000 to 4000 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 pa.s.sengers.

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 pa.s.ser-by, the public recognized the ramshackle old "conveyance," and scoffingly refused to trust themselves in the hea.r.s.e.

"Four thousand pounds!" down it went--3000--2000--the figures are Wyke's--and this season, the ignominious "1000 or under," is none of my booking! and when last I saw the mad machine it was still cycling down the hill.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_The New Dynasty_

[Sidenote: _The Morning Post._]

Sir--Pray accept my compliments, and be good enough to inform me at once by whose authority, and upon what pretence, the painting, designed and executed by myself, upon the panel at the entrance of the galleries of Suffolk Street, has been defaced. Tampering 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 responsibility 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,

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Sidenote: _Telegram to Council of Royal Society of British Artists:_

"Congratulations upon dignity maintained as Artists left in charge of a brother Artist's work, and upon graceful bearing as officers toward their late President."--WHISTLER.]

TO THE HON. SECRETARY OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS.

March 30, 1889.

_An Embroidered Interview_

[Sidenote: _Pall Mall Gazette_, April 3, 1889.]

"Well, Mr. Whistler, they say they only painted out your b.u.t.terfly from the signboard, and changed the date. What do you say?"

"What do I say? That they have been guilty of an act of villainous Vandalism."

"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 pa.s.ser-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 b.u.t.terfly. Mendacity could go no further. I painted a _lion_ and a b.u.t.terfly. The lion lay with the b.u.t.terfly--a harmony in gold and red, with which I had taken as 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 b.u.t.terfly has gone, the checks and lines, which I had treated decoratively, have disappeared. 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 b.u.t.terfly. 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 disappeared into the black of the night.

_The "Pall Mall" Puzzled_

[Sidenote: _Pall Mall Gazette_, April 4, 1889.]

Mr. Whistler begs me to insert the following note exactly as it stands. I haven't the slightest idea what it means, but here it is with "_mes compliments_":--

"TO THE INTERVIEWER OF THE _Pall Mall Gazette_:

"Good! 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!_"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_Official b.u.mbledom_

[Sidenote: To the Editor of _The Morning Post_]

Sir--As you have considered Mr. Whistler's letter worthy of publication, I ask you to complete the publication by inserting this simple statement of the facts as they occurred. The notice board of the Royal Society of British Artists bears on a red ground, in letters of gold, the t.i.tle of the Society. To this Mr. Whistler, during his presidency, added with his own hand a decorative device of a lion and a b.u.t.terfly. On the eve of our private view it was found that, while the t.i.tle 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 of Mr.

Whistler, it would manifestly have been improper to have left the b.u.t.terfly (his well-known signature) attached to it, even if it had not appeared in so crushed a state. The soiled b.u.t.terfly was therefore effaced.

Yours, &c., WYKE BAYLISS, CLAPHAM.