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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Every man to his trade, captain," said I. "You're a sailor, and you've given me plenty of points; but I am an artist, and allow me to inform you this is quite as strange as all the rest. The knife is a palette-knife; the pencil a Winsor and Newton, and a B B B at that. A palette-knife and a B B B on a tramp brig! It's against the laws of nature." "It would sicken a dog, wouldn't it?" said Nares.
It was to one of these I was directed: a thing coarsely and wittily handled, mostly with the palette-knife; the colour in some parts excellent, the canvas in others loaded with mere clay. But it was the scene and not the art or want of it that riveted my notice.
His head and shoulders were in the shadow, but the firelight fell across his knees and glimmered red on the blade of the palette-knife. Full in the firelight beside him stood a colour-box. On the lid was carved, J. TRENT. Ecole des Beaux Arts. 1870. This inscription was ornamented with an American and a French flag.
His fingers were straying about among the litter of tin tubes and dry brushes, seeking for something. Yes, it was the long palette-knife, with its thin blade of lithe steel. He had found it at last. He was going to rip up the canvas. With a stifled sob he leaped from the couch, and, rushing over to Hallward, tore the knife out of his hand, and flung it to the end of the studio.
The picture was there in the corner, turned to the wall; he could only just prevent her from driving her palette-knife through it. And she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, silent, a book on her knee, her hands hanging beside her, and her feverish eyes wandering wandering round the room, if only they might escape from David, might avoid seeing him or so he believed. Horrible!
Seizing a palette-knife from a neighboring tray of brushes and paints, he stabbed thrice into the canvas, ripping the picture, wickedly, from top to bottom, from side to side. "Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! You see her? I damn her there as she has damned me! Now you have heard my love, Ivan Mikhailovitch! Now you know! Go, then, out at that door, carrying your knowledge of me into the wide world. Take care!
Chailly, that was the name; Chailly-en-Biere, the post town of Barbizon ah, there was the very place for any man to hide himself there was the very place for Mr. Norris, who had rambled over England making sketches the very place for Goddedaal, who had left a palette-knife on board the Flying Scud.
This was no novelty to Whistler. He only laughed, and, laughing, made a circuit of his studio with a palette-knife, deliberately destroying all the pictures exposed there. The portrait of the lady was among them.
It is true that John Brett, the marine painter, before Newlyn's most palmy days, managed to offend the natives by his too outspoken religious opinions and his habit of laying on colour with his palette-knife. "What can you expect," asked a fisherman, "of a man who says there's no God and paints his pictures with a knife?"
It was to one of these I was directed; a thing coarsely and wittily handled, mostly with the palette-knife, the colour in some parts excellent, the canvas in others loaded with mere clay. But it was the scene, and not the art or want of it, that riveted my notice.
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