Another portrait sketch can be seen in the Freer collection.
In 1874 Whistler planned a big picture similar to Fantin-Latour's "Hommage à Delacroix", only less serious and more eccentric in conception. Whistler was to be the centre figure and to be surrounded by the "Woman in White" on a couch and a kimonoed lady walking about the studio, while Albert Moore and Fantin-Latour were chosen to serve as black notes. One of the studies, Whistler in his studio, is illustrated in Pennell. A chalk drawing belonging to Thomas Way is likewise in the same book. There are three etched portraits in existence. A very early one dated 1859, the "Whistler with the White Lock," which appeared as frontispiece in Ralph Thomas' "Catalogue of Etchings and Drypoints of Whistler," and an etching very similar to the 1867 portrait, dated 1874.
In 1894 he was painting a portrait of himself in a white jacket which, according to the Pennells, was changed into a dark coat after the death of his wife. A full length portrait in long overcoat was in the Paris Exposition of 1900, under the title of "Brown and Gold." Another half length is known to belong to George W. Vanderbilt.
A dry-point by Helleu, drawn in 1878, has many admirers, but is rather superficial as a characterization. The most important portrait is the Mephistophilean interpretation by Boldini, painted 1897 and shown at the Exposition in 1900. But I almost prefer a certain photograph which shows him with top-hat, and overcoat over his shoulder. It reminds me of the glimpse I caught of him that afternoon, in Paris years ago, when I was still carefree and had not the slightest idea that I would one day write a book about the man I passed so nonchalantly.
The few paragraphs that are cited in this chapter may not do his personality full justice, but they must suffice. A personality can not be recalled from the shades. We can only produce a mental image, and an abundance of notes would only confuse the outlines. His work remains, that is the principal thing. Even the greatest painters of the past are mere ghosts and visions to us. And although Whistler, more than any other modern painter, has the chance of marching down posterity, unforgotten and wreathed in glory, a curious high-seasoned personality not unlike Benvenuto Cellini, the author of these lines must refrain, as he can add nothing new or original.
Prophets or seers, call them what you will, in the arts or in the sciences, must of necessity be few and far between, and in advance of their age. Whistler is to me one of these, in his absolute and genuine love of his profession, for the resolve to win out at any cost, for his conquests in various realms of art and the triumph of ideas they represent.
I admire his colossal vanity and egotism, but, more than all, I admire him for the seriousness with which he took himself and his business of being a painter. It is so rare a quality. Velasquez was so much of a solemn cavalier that he was almost ashamed of being a painter. It offended him to be reminded of his profession. It was a serious sport to him, but only a sport. He was like Goethe: a distinguished and conscientious amateur. Their exalted position in life enabled them to treat art with such ease and condescension. But Whistler had to climb to the very heights from which they started, and all the battles and victories, struggles and temporary defeats, magnificent successes and lavish praises were the result of his personal efforts. Whistler needed, and had the true autolatry of the artist; he could conceive genius only under an artistic guise; he entertained the absolute faith that the faculty of painting is something so hugely superior to anything else that it confers a sort of sacred character on its owner. And it is for this wholesome artistic seriousness, this salutary egotism, that I admire Whistler, the man.
THE POOL (ETCHING).