BEARDING WHISTLER IN HIS DEN
THE following anecdote of Whistler was told by the painter himself.
One day when Whistler was absorbingly busy in painting the portrait of a prominent American gentleman, a ring was heard at his studio bell, and his man-servant appeared with the cards of a certain rich American lady and her husband, saying they would like very much to see him. He sent word that he was closely occupied with a sitter, and begged them to excuse him. But the servant brought back word that the lady had come from America for the distinct purpose of having him paint her portrait, and that it was necessary for her to have an interview. He immediately sent word down that interviews could be had only by appointment, and he regretted that he could not receive her. But despite this rebuff, the lady and her escort succeeded in passing the guard, and were soon heard mounting the stairs; whereupon Whistler said to his sitter:
“Oh, Jack, for heaven’s sake, do go and send her away!”
At the top of the landing the sitter found the lady and her husband. He expostulated with her on her intrusion, but was unable to make any impression upon her, and so reported to the painter, who finally came out with a handful of wet brushes between his fingers and advanced upon the enemy with a determined manner, and, as he went toward her, pushing his hand in front of him, to the imminent danger of spoiling a very beautiful costume arranged for an effective portrait.
It was very amusing to see Whistler punctuating his remarks with the jerks of his hand in which he had put two or three pencils to illustrate the situation.
“My dear Madam,” he said [forward gesture], “you must know [gesture repeated] that an artist [another gesture] cannot be interrupted in his work [deprecatory gesture], and I must ask you kindly to desist from this intrusion [forward gesture]. It is impossible for me to make arrangements [gesture] except by appointment, and I am obliged to ask you [gesture] to be so good as to excuse me.” As he approached her, the lady was obliged to retire a few inches, until she reached the top of the landing, when Whistler, seeing that she acknowledged her discomfiture, bade her good morning as she took her leave. The painter did not mention the lady’s name.
On the conclusion of the anecdote, one of his auditors said, “You must have a great many such experiences with the nouveaux riches, Mr. Whistler.”
“Ah, yes, ah, yes,” he said; “and it takes them a long time to grow up to the portraits we make of them.”