f The Gentle Art.

There are in England, at this moment, a few people to whom prose
appeals as an art; but none of them, I think, has yet done justice to
Whistler's prose. None has taken it with the seriousness it deserves. I
am not surprised. When a man can express himself through two media,
people tend to take him lightly in his use of the medium to which he
devotes the lesser time and energy, even though he use that medium not
less admirably than the other, and even though they themselves care
about it more than they care about the other. Perhaps this very
preference in them creates a prejudice against the man who does not
share it, and so makes them sceptical of his power. Anyhow, if Disraeli
had been unable to express himself through the medium of political
life, Disraeli's novels would long ago have had the due which the
expert is just beginning to give them. Had Rossetti not been primarily
a poet, the expert in painting would have acquired long ago his present
penetration into the peculiar value of Rossetti's painting. Likewise,
if Whistler had never painted a picture, and, even so, had written no
more than he actually did write, this essay in appreciation would have
been forestalled again and again. As it is, I am a sort of herald. And,
however loudly I shall blow my trumpet, not many people will believe my
message. For many years to come, it will be the fashion among literary
critics to pooh-pooh Whistler, the writer, as an amateur. For Whistler
was primarily a painter--not less than was Rossetti primarily a poet,
and Disraeli a statesman. And he will not live down quicklier than they
the taunt of amateurishness in his secondary art. Nevertheless, I will,
for my own pleasure, blow the trumpet.

I grant you, Whistler was an amateur. But you do not dispose of a man
by proving him to be an amateur. On the contrary, an amateur with real
innate talent may do, must do, more exquisite work than he could do if
he were a professional. His very ignorance and tentativeness may be,
must be, a means of especial grace. Not knowing 'how to do things,'
having no ready-made and ready-working apparatus, and being in constant
fear of failure, he has to grope always in the recesses of his own soul
for the best way to express his soul's meaning. He has to shift for
himself, and to do his very best. Consequently, his work has a more
personal and fresher quality, and a more exquisite 'finish,' than that
of a professional, howsoever