Whistler was not content to be a great painter; he was also a lecturer, man of letters, and historian. His idea was that when he overcame one of his enemies by a witty retort he made history, and when he collected these retorts and the stories of his quarrels into a book, he wrote history. The collecting was suggested to him by a journalist, who proposed the title, and was authorized to gather the various items from newspaper files. After the work was done and the book prepared and printed, Whistler decided to take the credit for himself, so he sent the journalist a check for ten pounds and dismissed him. Naturally the poor fellow insisted that he had rights in the matter, and tried to bring out the book in Belgium and in Paris. Whistler pursued him and had him arrested and heavily fined; he took over the man’s idea and title, and so we have the beautiful volume with the fancy butterflies. Whistler’s conduct throughout the affair was brutal, and his book I am inclined to call the most hateful thing in print. Its content is the egotism of a highly intelligent and persistent hornet. Whistler has, to be sure, some ideas to advocate. He reprints a lecture called “Ten O’clock,” named from the after-dinner hour at which it was given in London. To his well-fed audience he explained that art is for artists, who alone can understand it; art has nothing to do with the people, who only degrade it when they touch it. Moreover, art has no concern with morality, whether individual or national; “in no way do our virtues minister to its worth, in no way do our vices impede its triumph.” As for painting, Whistler declared it to be a matter of the arrangement of line, form and color; it has nothing to do with any other idea, not even with the subject being painted. To quote the painter’s own words: “The subject matter has nothing to do with the harmony of color.” In order to emphasize this point of view Whistler took to calling his portraits by such names as “Harmony in Green and Rose,” “Caprice in Blue and Silver,” “Symphony in White,” “Variations in Violet and Green,” “Arrangement in Black and Gray.” One of his most famous paintings showed fireworks at night, and was called “Nocturne in Black and Gold.” John Ruskin wrote of it: “I never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.” So there was a picturesque and sensational libel suit, and the jury awarded Whistler damages of one farthing, that is, half a cent. That was not enough to pay his lawyer’s fees, and so the painter went into bankruptcy and spent a few years in Europe.