Whistler as I knew him . by the thought of Whistlers enthusiasm overthe pictures we had come to see. Early next morning we started off to the Interna-tional Exhibition. Whistler was still fractious. Wewere shown the room where the pictures of Stevenshung, and Chase took Whistler enthusiastically up tothem. The Master had worked himself into a certaingroove of contrariness, and felt that he could not atthat moment look at things from Chases was his whim to regard these pictures purely asliterature. Chase would say, Look at the marvel-lous colour and the exquisite drawing of that w
Whistler as I knew him . by the thought of Whistlers enthusiasm overthe pictures we had come to see. Early next morning we started off to the Interna-tional Exhibition. Whistler was still fractious. Wewere shown the room where the pictures of Stevenshung, and Chase took Whistler enthusiastically up tothem. The Master had worked himself into a certaingroove of contrariness, and felt that he could not atthat moment look at things from Chases was his whim to regard these pictures purely asliterature. Chase would say, Look at the marvel-lous colour and the exquisite drawing of that womanshead. Whistler would half close his eyes, with hishead on one side, place his hand on his hip, and say, Well, well, well! Pshaw! Think of that now! Goon, Menpes: you look at that picture over there.(That would perhaps be a very fair picture: I wasthen going through a craze of keying up my picturesalmost to whiteness, and, I must admit, blankness.) A NOCTURNE From an oil-painting in the possession ofJ. J. Cowan, TRAVELS 151 Thats the one for you. I am looking at this picturewith Chase. Now, Chase, what do you suppose wouldhappen if the ball of worsted were to fall from off theladys lap? The natural conclusion we arrived atwas that the cat would spring at the ball. It wouldscarcely be natural of her to resist it. And so hewould continue rotting the whole exhibition,becoming more and more frivolous in his remarkswith each picture. At last this so got on Chases nerves that he flewout of the gallery, and went to bed, ill; and therewe left him to recover while we went on to Holland. Before leaving, however, Whistler and I wentonce more to the International Exhibition. Whistlerstrolled about still in the same unsettled state, untilsuddenly, as luck would have it, he came across twolarge frames of etchings, — one by Walter Sickert andthe other by myself. I shall never forget the terrorof that moment. I believe my hair all but stood onend. Walter and I had sent those frames
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