THE UNSAFE TENEMENT (ETCHING).
Mr. Watts Denton, on the other hand, tries to make us believe that Dante Gabriel Rossetti got exceedingly tired of Whistler after a while and considered him a brainless fellow, who had no more than a quick malicious wit at the expense of others, and no real philosophy or humour.
Otto Bacher, the American painter and etcher, has written a delightful book entitled "With Whistler in Venice." The title is slightly deceptive as the contents are largely an eulogy on the beauties of Venice. Whistler is a mere picturesque incident. Bacher describes his friend in this fashion: "When he was talking the glass (monocle) was dropped. If he sat at one of the tables at the café the clanging of the eye-glass accentuated his conversation. If he was presented to any one it would drop and dangled to and fro from the neat cord for a few moments, to be readjusted after some moments of fumbling. His monocle was always a source of entertainment. He generally carried in his hand a Japanese bamboo cane, using it to emphasize his remarks.
"He rose early, worked strenuously and retired late. He seemed to forget ordinary hours for meals and would often have to be called over and over again. He was a fastidious smoker, but a continuous one—his choice of words was always a marked feature. His manners were elegant. He would always adapt himself to any situation and, at the same time, retain his dignity and personality."
Another interesting account was furnished in the Cornhill Magazine, 1903, by Mortimer Menpes: "Whistler was of all men essentially a purist—a purist in every sense of the word, both as a man and a worker. As a man he was sadly misunderstood by the masses. Whistler's nature was ever a combative one and his long and brilliant career was a continuous fight throughout. He revealed himself only to the few, and even that small inner circle, of whom I was one of the most devoted, saw the real man but seldom. But on those rare occasions Whistler could be gentle, sweet and sympathetic, almost feminine, so lovable was he. Whistler treated his hair as everything about him, purely from an artist's standpoint, as a picture, as a bit of decoration. Whistler wanted to produce certain lines in the frock coat and he insisted upon having the skirts cut very long, while there were to be capes over the shoulders, which must need form graceful curves in sympathy with the long-flowing lines of the skirt. The idea of wearing white duck trousers with a black coat was not conceived in order to be unlike other people, but because they formed a harmony in black and white he loved. His straight brimmed hats, his cane, the way he held his cane, each and every detail was observed, but only as the means of forming a decorative whole."
Less personal are Val Prinsep's remarks: "I have always thought that behind the 'poseur' there was quite a different Whistler. Those who saw him with his mother were conscious of the fact that the irrepressible Jimmy was very human. No one could have been a better son or more attentive to his mother's wishes; after his marriage I have heard that the life of this most Bohemian 'poseur' was most harmonious and domestic.
"The grammar of expression was a constant stumbling block to him, hence his slowness in producing. For let it not be supposed his pictures, which looked so simple in their execution, were produced with facility. The late Mr. Leyland told me that when he was sitting for his portrait, a standing full-length, Whistler nearly cried over the drawing of the legs and bitterly regretted that he had not learned something of the construction of the human form during his student years. He once spoke of himself as a 'soiled butterfly.' Surely this is the first recorded instance of a butterfly being an aggressive and vindictive insect. This however was a mere pose of Whistler's, the result of a well considered determination to exalt himself, which he found in the long run paid, even as all judicious publicity is said to bring in a sum percentage of profit."
A. Ludovici, a New York dealer, makes quite a hero of Whistler. "He soon made me feel that I was talking to an artist of great taste and refinement, full of love for his work and a ready wit, and, in spite of an academic training just received in Paris, I became that moment devoted to him and his art. The little I had seen of it at the Grosvenor engendered a desire to learn more regarding the mysterious technique of which he was such an undoubted master and confirmed my predilection in favour of painting the scene of life surrounding in preference to the making up of the conventional subject so much in vogue. I who knew him for the last twenty years of his life always found him most simple in his tastes, firm in his convictions, generous and open-hearted to those whose friendship he relied on and always ready to help and oblige any one in whom his interests had been awakened. A more brilliant and staunch friend one could not wish to have had."