February 28, 1885.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

97

METROPOLITAN IMPROVEMENTS. No. 6.

Following the Installation oe the Japanese Village at Kniohtsbridoe,
the Choctaw Braves set up their Wigwams in Regent Street,

WHITEWASH ME, AND I’LL WHITEWASH YOU.

(Rising Statesman readeth the Account of the Amicable Settle-
ment of the Aston Affair, and soliloquiseth.)

Humph ! Here’s the end of many a laboured column!
Mere mutual whitewashing, after all!

A farce! And yet the farce is something solemn.

A fall, my Joe, a clown’s well-buttered fall.

0 Brummagem ! Perhaps ’twas well to settle
The mischief bred of faith in Larry Mack,

Kettle tells Pot, and Pot admits to Kettle
That neither finds the other very black.

And yet, though Hopkins makes it up with Dixon
And each avows that neither is much hurt,

Still, after all, a certain remnant sticks on
The whitewashed saints that rather looks like dirt.

Whilst for my coat—perchance they could not save it
From showing the least speck or splash of dirt on.

If I again pin faith on affidavit
May I be—landed like poor Walter Kirton.

It does not suit, my Joe, to have a stain
Your shining rising reputation cast on.

1 guess they will not bowl you out again
With such a “ nasty one ” as this of Aston.

To build a speech on “ chuckers-out ”’s not safe
However you may swear, and test, and rummage ’em,

I take that tip, however much I chafe
From Pot and Kettle’s comedy at Brummagem.

The Unemployed.

ShaJcspeare, in Egypt—

-Oh, that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those men in England
Who do no work to-day.”

Henry the Fifth, Act IV. sc. 3.

THE BUTLERS OE GREAT MEN.

(Interviewed by Our Own Back-stairs Representative.)

No IV.—At Me. James McNeil Whistler’s.

“ Well, I never did—who would have thought to see you P Well
lam surprised,” were the words that greeted me as I arrived at the
Chelsea residence of Mr. Whistler (kitchen entrance, of course).

Y^8' it’s me,” was my rather terse reply.

Wait a bit, ’ continued he, “ the Boss is out, as usual, so I ’ll let
you in the front door.”

In half a minute more I was standing in the peculiarly coloured
and particularly bare hall of the great Artist. Having somewhat
recovered my surprise at seeing Tom. Stropping, whom I used

+L„ v !ii — “ , j- ' jituen witn astomsnment into

tne ball seat, if there had been such an artiole of furniture present,
but there wasn t.

generally ?”°I asked ^Ven Up cu^n8'> shaving, and bartering

w‘‘ no; I*18;™ given ^ np publicly—not privately. I’m Mr.
V\ histler s Barber as well as his Butler. It’s no sinecure
appointment either. _ You would not believe it possible the trouble
1 nave to prevent his white lock getting black and his black hair
getting white.”

asked^1'1 la ^^BuCeF^wortli'ard ? ”^ symPattetioally- “d then
i . <iear n<b” was the answer, “that’s the easiest part of the
8e®~Ae never has any company. He drinks very little
Loo -I i. if ^ald dowD; a bottle of Gilbey the week before last, and it
oroofr beeP opened yet. He has most of his meals out. He is a
great tavourite in Society, and is seldom here.”

oLl-n^j aow 19, A Ae j? no'; at work on such a beautiful bright sun-
vpnrlofV- One would think an Artist would give a few

years of his life for a day like this to paint by.”

he oe>u J ITquiry1 Tom bu!;s^ inI° a i°u<i fit of laughter. As soon as
lie-hts e c^ef^ himself, he said, “Bless you, he don’t want bright
um! or north lights to get his peculiar efiects P ”

“ P 6l v at tights does he want ? ”
eitherUS was the response. “He don’t want ’em still,

Many a time I have had to stand waggling to and fro a

”1 A.lr in -„ ii _1 _ J__

YOL. Lvxxvni,

Tom said, “My hoy, better late than never.”

I did not comprehend the application of the remark at all, and
was ruminating whether I should say anything or not, when
Mr. Whistler’s Hairdresser and Butler said,

“ Come and see them.”

I was “ flabbergasted,” as a vulgar person would say. Tom said—
“Don’t he surprised. Whistler’s greatest works have never left
his studio, and are not likely to do so.”

I was then escorted to the Studio—a charming place, elaborately
decorated with one peacock feather fan, and two Liberty’s Japanese
plates. I saw several of the great Artist’s most celebrated works.
I said to Tom, “You must explain these to me. I regret to say I
have not been educated up to them.”

“ Ah! ” the Butler replied, “ many people observe that. There is
a mystery about them—and I will solve the mystery to you. But
come ana see the kitchen first.” We proceeded to the kitchen,
which was elaborately decorated in the same way as the studio,
namely, one more fan (cheaper, of course, than the other) and two
plates (ordinary) on the kitchen-dresser. _ There was also a pair of
“ white ducks ” over the hack of a chair in front of the fire. I was
told that they were being aired, as the “Boss” meditated wearing
them a little earlier this Spring than usual. It was getting rather
late in the afternoon, and a continuation of double-knocks kept
shaking up the front-door. I heard the distant voice of the Butler,
after he left me, saying “ Not at home ” to the Dukes, Duchtsse s,
Bishops, and Tax-Collectors, &c., who were paying fashionable calls.
I thought it time to leave, so made my way to the area-steps.

“ Tom,” I said, “ tell me the mystery about these pictures.”

“ Certainly, my hoy,” he replied, “ Besides being Mr. Whistler’s
Butler and Hairdresser, I’m his dfodel for everything. I sat for the
1 Portrait of a Lady.' I have sat for no end of Trunks of Trees
under the title of ‘ Autumnal Consecutive Fifths.’ I sat for the
‘ Harmony in Green ’ (a Manchester purchaser); I sat for the
Crystal Balaee Fireworks (‘ Fugue in Smoke ’) ; and, lastly, but
not leastly, I always sit for that butterfly-beetle signature in the
corner of all his pictures.”

I asked one more question—“ Does he make much by these
pictures f ”

“ No,” replied Tom. “ He relies entirely upon the sale of his very
smart and clever Catalogues. He looks forward to a success from
his “ Ten o’Clocks” ; and if they don’t answer, he is going to try
(so he tells me) a “ Twenty-two o’Clock.”

Mrs. Ramsbotham writes:—“At my seaside lodgings I couldn’t
get a wink of sleep, as there were some crumbs in the sheets, so that
I might as well have been on the bed of Piecruity’s himself.”