Life of James McNeill Whistler, . ed, months passed, and there was no wombat. It was regretted,forgotten. Long afterwards Rossetti, who was not much of a smoker,got out the box of cigars he had not touched since that dinner. Heopened it. Not a cigar was left, but there was the skeleton of thewombat. Whistler and Rossetti also agreed about many of the group whomet at Tudor House, though eventually Whistler felt what appeared tohim the disloyalty of Swinburne and Burne-Jones. He was never, atany time, so intimate with Burne-Jones as with Swinburne, who oftencame to the house in Lindsey Row, not
Life of James McNeill Whistler, . ed, months passed, and there was no wombat. It was regretted,forgotten. Long afterwards Rossetti, who was not much of a smoker,got out the box of cigars he had not touched since that dinner. Heopened it. Not a cigar was left, but there was the skeleton of thewombat. Whistler and Rossetti also agreed about many of the group whomet at Tudor House, though eventually Whistler felt what appeared tohim the disloyalty of Swinburne and Burne-Jones. He was never, atany time, so intimate with Burne-Jones as with Swinburne, who oftencame to the house in Lindsey Row, not only for Whistlers sake, but outof affection for Whistlers mother. Miss Chapman tells us that Swin-burne was once taken ill there suddenly, and Mrs. Whistler nursed himtill he was well. Miss Chapman also remembers Swinburne sittingat Mrs. Whistlers feet, and saying to her : Mrs. Whistler, what hashappened ? It used to be Algernon ! Mrs. Whistler, who hadaccepted Whistlers friends and their ways, said quietly, You have not80 [1863. THE WHITE GIRESYMPHONY IN WHITE. XO. I OIL In the po5sess;on of J. H. Whittemore, Esq.(Seepci;c 67) Chelsea Days been to see us for a long while, you know. If you come as you did,it will be Algernon again. And he came, and the friendship lasteduntil the eighties, when he published the article in the FortnightlyReview which Whistler could not forgive. Meredith wrote us of these Chelsea days : I knew Whistler andnever had a dissension with him, though merry bouts between uswere frequent. When I went to live in the country, we rarely came down to stay with me once. He was a lively companion,never going out of his way to take offence, but with the springs in himprompt for the challenge. His tales of his student life in Paris, andof one Ernest, with whom he set forth on a holiday journey with nextto nothing in his purse, were impayable. Quarrels and distrust never made Whistler deny the charm ofCharles Augustus Howell, remembered for the part he pla
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