Whistler as I knew him . oing with Whistler to a house inwhich there lived a family of musicians — geniuses,every one of them —? and they gave a musical sang, some played the violin, others the piano;there were cellos, fifes, trombones, big drums, andevery instrument you could possibly imagine. Whist-ler, I remember, sat on a Louis Quatorze settee, withhis mouth wide open and a perfectly blank expressionon his face, watching these people, as they performedone after the other, as though he had been couldnt speak to me, he didnt speak to me; butI heard him muttering to
Whistler as I knew him . oing with Whistler to a house inwhich there lived a family of musicians — geniuses,every one of them —? and they gave a musical sang, some played the violin, others the piano;there were cellos, fifes, trombones, big drums, andevery instrument you could possibly imagine. Whist-ler, I remember, sat on a Louis Quatorze settee, withhis mouth wide open and a perfectly blank expressionon his face, watching these people, as they performedone after the other, as though he had been couldnt speak to me, he didnt speak to me; butI heard him muttering to himself, Pshaw! whats itall about? Suddenly a lady appeared, an old lady,rather plain, but intensely musical, and was lookedupon with admiration and awe by the entire was also a crank, and for some reason — I neverknew quite why — she always carried bread and but-ter in her pocket. She had not the air of a gour- MOREBY HALL, INTERIOR From a water-colour drawing in the possession ofJ. J. Cowan, THE MAN 55 uiand either — I can only imagine that it must havebeen her luncheon, which she carried on her person incase of emergency. When I saw her sail into theroom, I trembled as I thought of Whistler. If onlyshe had remained quiet, things might not have beenso bad. The Master might have forgotten the bread-and-butter episode and controlled himself withoutmuch trouble. She had no consideration pressed, she rose immediately and began toplay upon the piano and to sing. Her hands movedfaster and faster across the notes, and her voice rosehigher and higher. I turned to look at gaze was fastened upon the top of the ladyshead. I looked up, and there I saw a weather-cockwhirling at an almost incredible pace, making count-less revolutions to the minute, on the very summit ofher coiled auburn hair. There must have been a per-fect gale blowing, for this weather-cock whirled fasterthan anything I have seen on a church steeple; and itwas impo
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Keywords: ., bookauthormenpesmo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookyear1904
