* * * * *

Justin McCarthy, the journalist and historian of Our Own Times, stayed away from the Whistler dinner at the Criterion because his friend Mortimer Menpes had been slighted.  He met Whistler a few evenings later at a dinner to Christie Murray.  As they came together Whistler remarked darkly: 

“You’re a bold man and a philanthropist; but remember, Damien died!”

And he had, just before, among the lepers of Molokai!  Rather rough on the claimant of Lemon Yellow!

* * * * *

The Fine Art Society once billed Whistler for incidentals to one of his exhibitions, and thoughtfully included a pair of stockings worn by an attendant named Cox.

“I shall pay for nothing of Cox’s,” said the artist, indignantly.  “Neither his socks, nor his ’ose, nor anything that is his.”

* * * * *

One of his proofs, sold by Sotheby’s in 1888—­that of an early etching—­brought a good price, not on its merits, but for this line by the artist, written on the margin:  “Legs not by me, but a fatuous addition by a general practitioner.”

The “legs” were by Dr. Seymour Haden, Whistler’s eminent brother-in-law.

* * * * *

The eccentric relationship between Whistler and that self-destroyed genius, Oscar Wilde, has been much portrayed.  A characteristic meeting was thus described by a correspondent of the London Literary World: 

“Whistler and Wilde were to be the lions at a literary reception.  Unfortunately, the lions came too early, when the few previous arrivals were altogether too insignificant to be introduced to them.  So they had to talk to each other.  It was on a very warm Sunday afternoon in the season, and Whistler, by the by, was wearing a white ‘duck’ waistcoat and trousers, and a fabulously long frock-coat, made, I think, of black alpaca, and carrying a brass-tipped stick about four feet long in his right hand, and a wonderful new paint-box, of which he was proud, under his left arm.  Neither of the lions took any notice of what the other said.  Finally, Wilde, who had spent the previous summer in America, began:  ’Jimmy, this time last year, when I was in New York, all we men were carrying fans.  It should be done here.’  Instead of replying, Whistler observed that he had just returned from Paris, and that he always came by the Dieppe route, because it gave you so much longer for painting sea effects.  Whether Oscar thought he was going to have an opportunity of scoring or what, he was tempted to break through the contempt with which-he had treated Whistler’s other remarks.  ‘And how many did you paint in four hours, Jimmy?’ he asked, with his most magnificent air of patronage.  ‘I’m not sure,’ said the irrepressible Jimmy, quite gravely, ’but I think four or five hundred."’

* * * * *