“So handsome.” “Plays divinely.” “Perfectly charming.” “Sings.” “And is so great a sculptor.” Whereupon Whistler, who was of the party, timidly advanced the query: “Paints a little, too, does he not?” That is one version of an old and well-worn Whistler anecdote, and other versions, which are at all characteristic, do not vary in more than two or three words. See what the story becomes in the mouth of the incompetent.[7] “One evening a dozen of us were sitting in Broughton’s reception-room, waiting for our carriages to be announced, and Whistler was sitting by himself on a lounge on the other side of the room. We were discussing the versatile talents of Frederic Leighton, one of the leading painters of England, and afterwards president of the Royal Academy. One spoke of his astonishing linguistic accomplishments: he could express himself in every European tongue and in several Oriental ones. Another mentioned his distinguished merit as an architect: he was building an addition to his studio which was like a vision of Aladdin or Haroun Al Rashid. Another called attention to his ability in sculpture: a group of an athlete and a serpent was then exhibiting in the Academy, which challenged the works of antique art. Another mentioned his talent as an orator: no man in London could make a better after-dinner speech. Another praised his personal beauty and grace and his athletic prowess. At length there fell a silence, because all of us had contributed his or her mite of eulogy,--all of us, that is, with the exception of Whistler, reclining on his elbow at the other side of the room. “By a common impulse we all glanced over at him: what would he say? He partly raised himself from his lolling attitude and reached for his crush hat on the sofa. ‘Yes,’ he added, slowly and judicially, as if benevolently confirming all the praise we had poured forth; and then, as if by an after-thought, calling our attention to a singular fact not generally known, ‘Yes, and he can paint, too!’” After all the verbosity, padding, and penny-a-lining, the point is missed by attributing to Whistler the positive averment that Leighton could paint. Small wonder that the writer in the next paragraph confesses: “My own crude first attempts to understand Whistler’s paintings were dismal failures; and of course I imagined that the failure was in the painting, and not in myself. I could see no beauty in them: the drawing was indeterminate; the colors were not pretty; the pictures all seemed unfinished.” It is less difficult than one would suppose to recall things said by Whistler, for he would repeat a good thing and was always polishing.