Whistler’s absence from the NEAC gave Sickert a freer hand, and he rose in stature and assurance. In his plans for the infiltration of the NEAC – and the promotion of the ‘Impressionist clique’ – he adopted many of Whistler’s tactics, as well as something of his pose. He became a noted figure in Chelsea and beyond, conspicuous in his ‘wonderful clothes’. His ‘dashing’ dove-grey tailcoat projected an air of theatricality;9 and the cultivation of a splendid ‘large fair moustache’ lent him a new distinction – ‘like a French cavalryman of the day’.10 He affected a huge ribboned bow instead of a necktie, and persuaded several other members of the clique to follow this example of ‘Latin Quarter’ chic.11
Beyond the advertisement of dress, he sought to publicize the aims and character of the clique. His pupillage at Tite Street had taught him much about the importance of gaining a voice in the press, even if he felt that Whistler sometimes went too far to secure such coverage (devoting precious hours on one occasion to wooing the sports reporter of the Fulham local paper in the hope of a flattering mention).12 Sickert strove to find more sympathetic allies. Of the established critics, only the querulous and somewhat prissy Frederick Wedmore, who wrote in both the weekly Academy and the daily Standard, had any knowledge, or appreciation, of French Impressionism; but his cautious approbation would need to be backed by new – and more enthusiastic – voices. There were several clamouring to be heard. It was a time of great proliferation in the press. Cheap printing costs and an ever-expanding urban readership had led to an efflorescence of new papers and periodicals, and amongst these publications Sickert found willing supporters.
His great ally was George Moore. The author of A Modern Lover was, of course, sympathetic to the aims and ideals of the NEAC’s Impressionist clique; and although Moore’s only regular column was in The Hawk, a small-circulation paper published by his brother, his energy, his wit, and his own growing reputation as a writer striving to transpose French literary innovations into English gave him a profile out of proportion to his immediate readership. For Sickert, his great knowledge of the Parisian scene, his memories of Manet, and his friendship with Degas made him an invaluable repository of information. Sickert and the other young ‘Impressionists’ respected him enormously. They put up with his eccentricities (he had a habit of turning up unannounced at Broadhurst Gardens, to share his latest ‘very important’ discovery);* they invited him to their councils; and they listened to his views. Elie Halévy, after spending time in London with the NEAC crowd, described them as being ‘ruled over by George Moore’.13 As Sickert later admitted, news that Moore ‘liked, or didn’t like, one of our pictures’ flew at once ‘round the Hogarth Club … And I believe we were genuinely elated or depressed’ according to his verdict.14
Besides the oracular Moore there were several young painters who had taken to part-time reviewing.* Unsurprisingly, amongst these there were several pro-Whistlerians: the absurdity of allowing non-artists to criticize art had, after all, been one of the planks of Whistler’s attack on Ruskin. Alfred Lys Baldry, who had studied under Albert Moore and was an acknowledged admirer of Whistler, contributed regularly to a small-circulation weekly called The Artist & Journal of Home Culture. He was at once brought within the ambit of the ‘Impressionist’ group and encouraged to join the NEAC.15 Sickert made an even closer friend of the Scottish-born painter George Thomson, who shared with Steer both a studio building and an interest in Monet. Thomson was supplementing his income by writing up exhibitions for the evening papers,16 and despite a strong Aberdonian burr and a ‘rather gruffly gloomy address’ Sickert found him a ‘gentle and sympathetic’ soul.17 He too began to send to the NEAC and to promote the Impressionist cause in his articles.
Indeed it soon became a complaint against Sickert and his Impressionist clique that they were suborning critics by ‘offering wall space not for their articles but for their works’.18 But the line between critics and artists was becoming increasingly blurred. Sickert merely sought to accelerate the process and use it to his advantage – or to the advantage of his group. It was, after all, a surer path than relying on ‘letters to the editor’ or stray paragraphs in the gossip columns, as Whistler did. Sickert himself played his part, taking a position as art critic for the recently inaugurated London edition of the New York Herald.19 The post gave him a regular platform for promoting his artistic creed, as well – it must be supposed – as some welcome, if meagre, remuneration.
Reckless, opinionated, fluent, fond of specific technical details and broad generalizations, Sickert – it was soon revealed – had a gift for journalism. Words and opinions flowed from his pen. He did give some generous approbation to fellow members of the Impressionist clique, but on the whole his procedure was less direct.20 One almost invariable element in his articles was a word of extravagant praise for Whistler. Matters reached such a pitch that the sub-editor of the paper, meeting Sickert in Regent Street, remonstrated: ‘See here, Mr Sickert … people are asking whether the New York Herald is a Whistler organ.’21 In truth, however, the regular praise for Whistler was almost always balanced or augmented by praise for Degas and for Keene.22 Sickert seems to have been concerned to produce a genealogy for his Impressionist group: Whistler and Degas were acknowledged as the founding fathers – with Steer’s hero, Monet, included upon occasion. But, though proud of such antecedents, Sickert was anxious not to place his group too squarely in the debt of recent Parisian developments. He did not want to be too easily pigeonholed as a mere follower of Continental fashion. And having proclaimed the connection he sought to blur it. The recurrent introduction of Keene’s name served to connect the group with the proud English tradition stretching back through the great eighteenth-century illustrators to Hogarth. It was a ploy sanctioned, if not suggested, by Degas. The French painter had told George Moore (and probably Sickert too) that English artists risked compromising their distinctiveness if they lost touch with their national school.23 Degas, too, had impressed upon Sickert a conviction that all great art – however novel it might appear – stood upon the traditions of the past: that the achievements of Impressionism were not comprehensible without Poussin and Velásquez, Ingres, Millet, Gainsborough, Constable, and Turner. Sickert’s articles constantly sought to connect the movement with this illustrious heritage.
When writing explicitly about the NEAC, as he did with unabashed frequency, he emphasized both the diversity and the independence of the Impressionist clique – pointing out that not all the members were pupils of Whistler, and that not all had studied in Paris, and boasting, on the rather slender grounds that Blanche took an interest in their doings, that ‘the younger and more forward spirits of the Modern French School’ are more influenced by the ‘independent school of painting in England’ than vice versa.24
Sickert continued to canvass potential new members and new exhibitors for the club – as it was by the votes of these that control of the committees could be maintained. There were several convenient sources. Brown’s position at the Westminster School of Art gave him access to a large and loyal constituency. When, at the beginning of March 1889, he was the recipient