File:Life of James McNeill Whistler, (1911) (14596933529).jpg

Identifier: jamesmcnei00penn (find matches)
Title: Life of James McNeill Whistler,
Year: 1911 (1910s)
Authors: Pennell, Elizabeth Robins,
Subjects: American Art
Publisher: J. B. Lippincott company
Contributing Library: Whitney Museum of American Art, Frances Mulhall Achilles Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Metropolitan New York Library Council - METRO

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keep them out, and hisidea was that those who wanted to buy pictures should go to the Com-pany of the Butterfly, and buy them there without interrupting him.But no shop could dispose of the constant visits from the curious, fromphotographers asking for his portrait, journalists begging for an inter-view, literary people anxious to make articles or books about him. Theywould write to arrange a certain hour and appear without waiting fora reply. One, who had written to say he was coming with a letter ofintroduction, on his arrival found the door fastened and heard Whistlerwhistling inside, and that was all the indignant visitor heard or saw ofhim. There is a story of an American collector who, calling one daywhen not wanted, and after wasting much time, asked : How much for the whole lot, Mr. Whistler ? Five millions. What ? My posthumous prices ! And there are stories of Whistlers ways of meeting the hordes whotried to force themselves into the studio. Mr. Eddy tells one :352 (1898-99
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THE MASTER SMITH OF LYME REGIS OIL In the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (See page 327) Between London and Paris An acquaintance had brought, without invitation, a friend, a dis-tinguished and clever woman/ to the studio in the Rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs. They reached the door, both out of breath from their long climb. Ah, my dear Whistler, drawled C , I have taken the liberty of bringing LadyD to see you. I knew you would be delighted. Delighted, Im sure ! Quite beyond expression, but—mysteriously, and holding the door so as to bar their entrance—my dear Lady D , I would never forgive our friend for bringing you up six flights of stairs on so hot a day to visit a studio at one of these—eh—pagan moments when —and he glanced furtively behind him, and stillfurther closed the door—it is absolutely impossible for a lady to bereceived. Upon my soul, I should never forgive him. And Whistlerbowed them down from the top of the six flights and returned to theportrait of a very sedate ol

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