The adoption of his mother’s maiden name, McNeill, as part of his own was apparently an afterthought.
He had two brothers, William and Kirke, a half-brother, George, and a half-sister, Deborah, who married Seymour Haden, the well-known physician and etcher, who figures in “Gentle Art” as the “Surgeon-etcher.” Of the brothers, Kirke died young, George remained in this country, William became a well-known physician in London, dying a few years ago.
The family afterwards spent a short time in Stonington, where Major Whistler had charge of the construction of the railroad to Providence. They used to drive to church in Westerly in a chaise fitted with railway wheels, so as to travel on the tracks. There were no Sunday trains in those days, so the track was clear. An ingenious device enabled the horse to cross the culverts.
A locomotive named “Whistler” after the distinguished engineer—a felicitous name—was in use until comparatively few years ago.
In the spring of 1840 Major Whistler was appointed consulting engineer for the Western Railroad, running from Springfield to Albany, and the family moved to Springfield and lived in what “is now known as Ethan Chapin homestead, on Chestnut Street, north of Edwards Street.”
Old residents of the vicinity claim to remember “well the curly locks and bright, animated countenance of the boy,” and that the three boys “were always full of mischief,”—not an uncommon trait in youngsters, probably still less uncommon in Whistlers.
Shortly after the railroad to Albany was opened a wreck occurred, and a niece of Major Whistler, who was on her way to visit him, was badly injured. She was taken to his house, and it was a long time before she recovered.
The accident made a strong impression on Whistler, and possibly accounts for some of the dislike he often showed towards travelling alone. It was only in crossing crowded streets and in the confusion and bustle of travel that he showed what might be called nervousness.
With characteristic gallantry he would offer a lady his arm to aid her in crossing the Strand or the Boulevard, but he made sure of the places of refuge and took no chances; if in a hurry, she would better cross alone.
Once, not many years ago, he was at Dieppe, and wrote a friend in Paris almost daily that he would be in the city to see him. A week passed, and the friend, fearing he would be obliged to leave without seeing Whistler, wrote him he would come to Dieppe and see the work he was doing there, to which suggestion Whistler replied most cordially by wire.