"_Sans rancune_," say you? Bah! you scream unkind threats and die badly.

Why squabble over your little article? You _did_ print what I quote, you know, Tom; and it is surely unimportant what more you may have written of the Master. That you should have written anything at all is your crime.

No; shrive your naughty soul, and give up Velasquez, and pa.s.s your last days properly in the Home Office.

Set your house in order with the Government for arrears of time and paper, and leave vengeance to the Lord, who will forgive my "garbling"

Tom Taylor's writing.

THE WHITE HOUSE, Jan. 8, 1879.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_Serious Sarcasm_

Pardon me, my dear Whistler, for having taken you _au serieux_ even for a moment.

I ought to have remembered that your penning, like your painting, belongs to the region of "chaff." I will not forget it again; and meantime remain yours always,

TOM TAYLOR.

LAVENDER SWEEP, Jan. 9, 1879.

_Final_

Why, my dear old Tom, I never _was_ serious with you, even when you were among us. Indeed, I killed you quite, as who should say, without seriousness, "A rat! A rat!" you know, rather cursorily.

[Sidenote: _The World_, Jan. 15, 1879]

Chaff, Tom, as in your present state you are beginning to perceive, was your fate here, and doubtless will be throughout the eternity before you. With ages at your disposal, this truth will dimly dawn upon you; and as you look back upon this life, perchance many situations that you took _au serieux_ (art-critic, who knows?

expounder of Velasquez, and what not) will explain themselves sadly--chaff! Go back!

THE WHITE HOUSE, Jan. 10, 1879.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_"Balaam's a.s.s"_

[Sidenote: _Vanity Fair_, Jan 11, 1879.]

Mr. Whistler has written a discord in black and white. It is a strong saying, excellent in diction, broadly and boldly set down in slashing words....

The point Mr. Whistler raises and enforces is that criticism of painting other than by painters is monstrous, and not to be tolerated.... Mr. Ruskin's "high sounding empty things" would, he says, "give t.i.tian the same shock of surprise that was Balaam's when the first great critic proffered his opinion." ... The inference ...

is that all the world, competent and incompetent together, must receive the painter's work in silence, under pain of being cla.s.sed with Balaam's a.s.s....

If, finding himself ill received or ill understood, he has to say, "You cannot understand me," he must also say, "I did not understand myself and you, to whom I speak, sufficiently well to make you understand me."

There could be no better ill.u.s.tration of all this than that Mr. Whistler has suggested of Balaam's a.s.s. _For the a.s.s was right_, although, nay, because he was an a.s.s. "What have I done unto thee,"

said he, "that thou hast smitten me these three times?" "Because thou hast mocked me," replies Balaam--Whistler; whereupon the Angel of the Lord rebukes him and says, "_The a.s.s saw me_," so that Balaam is constrained to bow his head and fall flat on his face. And thus indeed it is. The a.s.s sees the Angel of the Lord there where the wise prophet sees nothing, and, by her seeing, saves the life of the very master who, for reward, smites her grievously and wishes he had a sword that he might kill her.

Let Balaam not forget that after all he rides upon the a.s.s, that she has served him well ever since she was his until this day, and that even now he is on his way with her to be promoted unto very great honour by the Princes of Balak. And let him remember that whatever can speak may at any moment have a word to say to him which it were best he should hear.

RASPER.

_The Point acknowledged_

[Sidenote: _Vanity Fair_, Jan. 18, 1879.]

Well hit! my dear _Vanity_, and I find, on searching again, that historically you are right.

The fact, doubtless, explains the conviction of the race in their mission, but I fancy you will admit that this is the _only a.s.s on record_ who ever _did_ "see the Angel of the Lord!" and that we are past the age of miracles.

Yours always,

THE WHITE HOUSE, Jan. 11, 1879.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_Critic's a.n.a.lysis_

[Sidenote: _The Sat.u.r.day Review_, June 1, 1867. P. G.

Hamerton.]

In the "Symphony in White No. III." by Mr. Whistler there are many dainty varieties of tint, but it is not precisely a symphony in white.

One lady has a yellowish dress and brown hair and a bit of blue ribbon, the other has a red fan, and there are flowers and green leaves. There is a girl in white on a white sofa, but even this girl has reddish hair; and of course there is the flesh colour of the complexions.