Recollections and impressions of James A. McNeill WhistlerEddy, Arthur Jerome
General
Recollections and impressions of James A. McNeill Whistler
Eddy, Arthur Jerome
Painters -- United States -- 19th century -- Biography; Whistler, James McNeill, 1834-1903
For instance, in his controversy with the critics he originally said
that “Ruskin’s high-sounding, empty things ... flow of language that
would, could he hear it, give Titian the same shock of surprise that was
Balaam’s when the first great critic proffered his opinion.”
A very literal correspondent wrote to the papers that the “ass was
right,” and quoted the Bible in proof.
Nothing daunted, Whistler acknowledged the hit, saying, “But, I fancy,
you will admit that this is the only ass on record who ever did see the
Angel of the Lord, and that we are past the age of miracles.”
Years after, in referring to the matter, he improved his reply to, “But
I fancy you will admit that this is the only ass on record that ever was
right, and the age of miracles is past.”
* * * * *
His love of epigram was so great that nothing which was terse or pointed
escaped his ears or fled his memory.
One day, while lunching with a friend who knew something about the
habits and eccentricities of good wine, Whistler was telling about the
peculiarities of Henry James, how James would drag a slender incident
through several pages until it was exhausted, whereupon his friend
casually remarked:
“The best of wine is spoiled by too small a spiggot.”
Immediately alert, Whistler said:
“What’s that? what’s that you said? Did you get that out of
Shakespeare?”
“Not at all; it is simply a physical fact that if you let good wine
dribble through a small spiggot you lose its fragrance and character.”
“God bless me, but I believe you are right; and it’s a good
saying,--it’s James to a--drop.”
* * * * *
No doubt there are many still living who knew Whistler in those early
Paris days, but if so, few have so far made known their reminiscences.
One fellow-student describes one of the places they used to dine
inexpensively as follows:[8]
“In Paris, in the fifties, there existed in the Rue de la
Michandiere what appeared to be an ordinary Paris creamery. In the
front shop were sold milk, butter, and eggs. Over the door was the
usual painted tin coffee-pot, indicating that _caffé au lait_, and
eggs, butter, and rolls could be obtained in the back room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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