And Even Now by Max Beerbohm - A complete eBook in pages (41 / 146)

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And Even Now by Max Beerbohm
Book, page 41 / 146

'88, wrote for one of the monthly reviews a criticism of the `Ten
O'Clock' lecture. He paid courtly compliments to Whistler as a
painter, but joined issue with his theories. Straightway there
appeared in the World a little letter from Whistler, deriding `one
Algernon Swinburne--outsider--Putney.' It was not in itself a very
pretty or amusing letter; and still less so did it seem in the light
of the facts which Watts-Dunton told me in some such words as these:
After he'd published that lecture of his, Jimmy Whistler had me to
dine with him at Kettner's or somewhere. He said "Now, Theodore, I
want you to do me a favour." He wanted to get me to get Swinburne to
write an article about his lecture. I said "No, Jimmy Whistler, I
can't ask Algernon to do that. He's got a great deal of work on hand
just now--a great deal of work. And besides, this sort of thing
wouldn't be at all in his line.' But Jimmy Whistler went on appealing
to me. He said it would do him no end of good if Swinburne wrote about
him. And--well, I half gave in: I said perhaps I would mention the
matter to Algernon. And next day I did. I could see Algernon didn't
want to do it at all. But--well, there, he said he'd do it to please
me. And he did it. And then Jimmy Whistler published that letter. A
very shabby trick--very shabby indeed.' Of course I do not vouch for
the exact words in which Watts-Dunton told me this tale; but this was
exactly the tale he told me. I expressed my astonishment. He added
that of course he `never wanted to see the fellow again after that,
and never did.' But presently, after a long gaze into the coals, he
emitted a chuckle, as for earlier memories of `such a funny fellow.'
One quite recent memory he had, too. `When I took on the name of
Dunton, I had a note from him. Just this, with his butterfly
signature: Theodore! What's Dunton? That was very good--very good....
But, of course,' he added gravely, `I took no notice.' And no doubt,
quite apart from the difficulty of finding an answer in the same vein,
he did well in not replying. Loyalty to Swinburne forbade. But I see a
certain pathos in the unanswered message. It was a message from the
hand of an old jester, but also, I think, from the heart of an old
man--a signal waved jauntily, but in truth wistfully, across the gulf
of years and estrangement; and one could wish it had not been ignored.

Some time after Whistler died I wrote for one of the magazines an
appreciation of his curious skill in the art of writing. Watts-Dunton
told me he had heard of this from Swinburne. `I myself,' he said,
`very seldom read the magazines. But Algernon always has a look at

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