Whistler Stories written by Don C. Seitz
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Don C. Seitz >> Whistler Stories
"See that chap over there?"
"What? That chap with the long hair and spindle legs?"
"Yes, that's the one. That's Whistler, the American, who thinks he's
the greatest painter on earth."
Walking up to the pair, Whistler held out his hand and said gravely to
the last speaker:
"Sir, I beg your acceptance of these ten centimes. Go buy yourself a
little hay!"
* * * * *
Sitting for a portrait was an ordeal. Many were quite upset after a
siege in the studio. One man annoyed the artist by saying at each
dismissal:
"How-about that ear, Mr. Whistler? Don't forget to finish that." At
the last session, all being finished but this ear, Whistler said,
"Well, I think I'm through; now I'll sign it." This he did in a very
solemn and important way.
"But my ear!" exclaimed the victim. "You're not going to leave it that
way?"
"Oh," said Whistler, grimly, "you can put it in after you get home."
* * * * *
He occasionally contemplated visiting America in his late years, but
the dread of the journey was too much for him to overcome. "If I
escape the Atlantic," he said, "I shall be wrecked by some reporter at
the pier." Finally, he definitely canceled his last proposed trip,
observing airily: "One cannot continuously disappoint a continent."
"America," he once said, lightly, "is a country where I never can be a
prophet."
* * * * *
Sir Rennell Rodd recalled that at a breakfast Waldo Story gave at
Dieu-donné's in Paris there was a great company, including Whistler.
Every one there was by the way of having written a book or painted a
picture, or having in some way outraged the Philistine, with the
exception of one young gentleman whose _raison d'être_ was not so
apparent as his high collar and the glory of his attire. He
nevertheless intruded boldly into the talk and laid down his opinions
very flatly. He even went so far as to combat some dictum of the
master's, whereat that gentleman adjusted his glasses and, looking
pleasantly at the youth, queried:
"And whose son are you?"
When Dorothy Menpes was a babe in the cradle a white feather lay
across her infant brow. The sight pleased Whistler. "That child is
going to develop into something great," he prophesied, "for see, she
begins with a feather, just like me."
* * * * *
In the last two years of his life Mr. Whistler's disputes grew less
frequent and his public flashes were few. The _Morning Post_ of
London, however, provoked an admirable specimen of his best style,
which it printed under date of August 6th, 1902. In its "Art and
Artists" column the paper had made the following statement:
"Mr. Whistler is so young in spirit that his friends must have read
with surprise the Dutch physician's announcement that the present
illness is due to 'advanced age.' In England sixty-seven is not
exactly regarded as 'advanced age,' but even for the gay 'butterfly'
time does not stand still, and some who are unacquainted with the
details of Mr. Whistler's career, though they know his work well, will
be surprised to learn that he was exhibiting at the Academy
forty-three years ago. His contributions to the exhibition of 1859
were 'Two Etchings from Nature,' and at intervals during the following
fourteen or fifteen years Mr. Whistler was represented at the Academy
by a number of works, both paintings and etchings. In 1863 his
contributions numbered seven in all, and in 1865 four. Among his
Academy pictures of 1865 was the famous 'Little White Girl,' the
painting that attracted so much attention at the Paris Exhibition of
1900. This picture--rejected at the Salon of 1863--was inspired,
though the fact seems to have been forgotten of late, by the following
lines of Swinburne:
Come snow, come wind or thunder
High up in air,
I watch my face and wonder
At my bright hair, etc."
Under date of August 3d Mr. Whistler sent from The Hague this brisk
reply:
I feel it no indiscretion to speak of my "convalescence," since you
have given it official existence.
May I, therefore, acknowledge the tender little glow of health induced
by reading, as I sat here in the morning sun, the flattering attention
paid me by your gentleman of the ready wreath and quick biography?
I cannot, as I look at my improving self with daily satisfaction,
really believe it all--still it has helped to do me good!--and it is
with almost sorrow that I must beg you, perhaps, to put back into its
pigeonhole for later on this present summary and replace it with
something preparatory, which, doubtless, you have also ready.
This will give you time, however, for some correction--if really it be
worth while--but certainly the "Little White Girl," which was not
rejected at the Salon of '63, was, I am forced to say, not "inspired
by the following lines of Swinburne," for the one simple reason that
those lines were only written, in my studio, after the picture was
painted. And the writing of them was a rare and graceful tribute from
the poet to the painter--a noble recognition of work by the production
of a nobler one!
Again, of the many tales concerning the hanging at the Academy of the
well-known portrait of the artist's mother, now at the Luxembourg, one
is true--let us trust your gentleman may have time to find it
out--that I may correct it. I surely may always hereafter rely on the
_Morning Post_ to see that no vulgar Woking joke reach me?
It is my marvelous privilege then to come back, as who should say,
while the air is still warm with appreciation, affection, and regret,
and to learn in how little I had offended. The continuing to wear my
own hair and eyebrows, after distinguished confrères and eminent
persons had long ceased their habit, has, I gather, clearly given
pain. This, I see, is much remarked on. It is even found inconsiderate
and unseemly in me, as hinting at affectation.
I might beg you, sir, to find a pretty place for this, that I would
make my apology, containing also promise, in years to come, to lose
these outer signs of vexing presumption.
Protesting, with full enjoyment of its unmerited eulogy, against your
premature tablet, I ask you again to contradict it, and appeal to your
own sense of kind sympathy when I tell you I learn that I have lurking
in London still "a friend"--though for the life of me I cannot
remember his name. And I have, sir, the honor to be,
J. MCNEILL WHISTLER.
The last dispute that found its way to print came through the New York
_Sun_ and Will H. Low, to whom Mr. Whistler sought to convey a piece
of his mind _via_ the newspaper channel, under date of May 8th, 1903,
This grew out of a complication in which Mr. Low became involved with
the Hanging Committee of the Society of American Artists over the
placing in its exhibition of "Rosa Corder" and two marines by Whistler
borrowed from Charles L. Freer, of Detroit, on the condition that they
be hung "in a good position." The position selected did not suit Mr.
Low, and he withdrew the pictures. Mr. Whistler sent his remonstrance
to the _Sun's_ London office, from which it was cabled to New York and
published on May 9th, as follows:
"I had waited for Mr. Low to publish my reply to a letter from himself
concerning the withdrawal of my pictures from the Society of American
Artists.
"This gentle opinion of my own upon the situation is, I understand,
expert. I therefore inclose it to you for publication. I have the
honor to be, dear sir, your obedient servant."
The remarks to Mr. Low read:
"I have just learned with distress that my canvases have been a
trouble and a cause of thought to the gentlemen of the Hanging
Committee!
"Pray present to them my compliments and my deep regrets.
"I fear also that this is not the first time of simple and
good-natured intrusion--looking in, as who would say, with beaming
fellowship and crass camaraderie upon the highly finished table and
well-seated guests--to be kindly and swiftly shuffled into some
further respectable place--that all be well and hospitality endure.
"Promise, then, for me, that I have learned and that 'this shall not
occur again.' And, above all, do not allow a matter of colossal
importance to ever interfere with the afternoon habit of peace and
good will, and the leaf of the mint so pleasantly associated with this
society.
"I could not be other than much affected by your warm and immediate
demonstration, but I should never forgive myself were the consequence
of lasting vexation to your distinguished confrères."
THE END