THE YEARS NINETEEN HUNDRED AND TWO AND NINETEEN HUNDRED AND THREE 423
_Return to No. 74 Cheyne Walk--Illness--Gradual Decline--Work--
Portraits--Prints--Exhibition of Silver--Degree of LL.D. from
Glasgow University--St. Louis Exposition--Worries--Last Weeks--
Death--Funeral--Grave_
APPENDIX 437
INDEX 439
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_G., after an etching, refers to the Grolier Club Catalogue of
Whistler's Etchings, 1910_
_W., after a lithograph, refers to Mr. T. R. Way's Catalogue of
Whistler's Lithographs, 1905_
Page
PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST (_By Himself_) (_Oil_) _Frontispiece_
In the George McCulloch Collection
PORTRAIT OF WHISTLER AS A BOY (_By Sir William Boxall_) (_Oil_) 12
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
THE TWO BROTHERS (_Miniature_) 12
Lent by Miss Emma Palmer; formerly in the possession of
Mrs. George D. Stanton and Miss Emma W. Palmer
BIBI LALOUETTE (_Etching. G. 51_) 20
STREET AT SAVERNE (_Etching. G. 19_) 20
From the "French Set"
LA MÈRE GÉRARD (_Oil_) 24
In the possession of William Heinemann
HEAD OF AN OLD MAN SMOKING (_Oil_) 24
In the Musée du Luxembourg
PORTRAIT OF WHISTLER (_Etching. G. 54_) 40
SKETCHES OF THE JOURNEY TO ALSACE (_Pen Drawings_) 40
PORTRAIT OF WHISTLER IN THE BIG HAT (_Oil_) 44
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
DROUET (_Etching. G. 55_) 44
AT THE PIANO (_Oil_) 52
In the possession of Edmund Davis, Esq.
WAPPING (_Oil_) 52
In the possession of Mrs. Hutton
THE THAMES IN ICE, THE TWENTY-FIFTH OF DECEMBER 1860 (_Oil_) 60
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
ROTHERHITHE (_Etching. G. 66_) 60
From the "Sixteen Etchings"
THE MUSIC ROOM--HARMONY IN GREEN AND ROSE (_Oil_) 68
In the possession of Colonel F. Hecker
ANNIE HADEN (_Dry-Point. G. 62_) 68
THE WHITE GIRL--SYMPHONY IN WHITE, NO. I. (_Oil_) 76
In the possession of J. H. Whittemore, Esq.
JO (_Dry-Point. G. 77_) 76
THE BLUE WAVE (_Oil_) 84
In the possession of A. A. Pope, Esq.
THE FORGE (_Dry-Point. G. 68_) 84
From the "Sixteen Etchings"
THE MORNING BEFORE THE MASSACRE OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW 92
(_Wood-Engraving from "Once a Week," vol vii. p. 210_)
THE LAST OF OLD WESTMINSTER (_Oil_) 92
In the possession of A. A. Pope, Esq.
PORTRAIT OF WHISTLER (_By Himself_) (_Chalk Drawing_) 104
Formerly in the possession of Thomas Way, Esq.
WEARY (_Dry-Point. G. 92_) 104
STUDY IN CHALK FOR THE SAME
Formerly in the possession of B. B. MacGeorge, Esq.
THE LANGE LEIZEN OF THE SIX MARKS--PURPLE AND ROSE (_Oil_) 108
In the J. G. Johnson Collection, Philadelphia
THE BALCONY--HARMONY IN FLESH-COLOUR AND GREEN (_Oil_) 108
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
LA PRINCESSE DU PAYS DE LA PORCELAINE--ROSE AND SILVER (_Oil_) 112
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
VARIATIONS IN VIOLET AND GREEN (_Oil_) 112
In the possession of Sir Charles McLaren, Bart.
THE LITTLE WHITE GIRL--SYMPHONY IN WHITE, NO. II. (_Oil_) 124
In the National Gallery, London
PORTRAIT OF DR. WHISTLER (_Oil_) 124
In the possession of Burton Mansfield, Esq.
VALPARAISO BAY--NOCTURNE: BLUE AND GOLD (_Oil_) 132
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
SYMPHONY IN WHITE, NO. III. (_Oil_) 132
In the possession of Edmund Davis, Esq.
WHISTLER'S TABLE PALETTE (_Photograph_) 144
In the possession of Mrs. Newmarch
SEA BEACH WITH FIGURES (_Study for the Six Projects_) (_Pastel_) 144
THE THREE FIGURES--PINK AND GREY (_Oil_) 144
In the possession of Alfred Chapman, Esq.
NOCTURNE--BLUE AND GREEN (_Oil_) 148
In the National Gallery, London
NOCTURNE--BLUE AND SILVER (_Oil_) 148
In the possession of the Executors of Mrs. F. R. Leyland
THE MOTHER--ARRANGEMENT IN GREY AND BLACK (_Oil_) 160
In the Musée du Luxembourg
PORTRAIT OF THOMAS CARLYLE--ARRANGEMENT IN GREY AND BLACK,
NO II. (_Oil_) 160
In the Corporation Art Gallery, Glasgow
PORTRAIT OF CICELY HENRIETTA, MISS ALEXANDER--HARMONY IN GREY
AND GREEN (_Oil_) 164
In the National Gallery, London
PORTRAIT OF F. R. LEYLAND--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK (_Oil_) 164
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
PORTRAIT OF MRS. F. R. LEYLAND--SYMPHONY IN FLESH-COLOUR AND
PINK (_Oil_) 172
In the possession of H. C. Finck, Esq.
PORTRAIT OF MISS LEYLAND (_Pastel_) 172
In the possession of the Executors of Mrs. F. R. Leyland
PORTRAIT OF MRS. LOUIS HUTH--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK, NO. II. (_Oil_) 180
In the possession of the Executors of the Family
FANNY LEYLAND (_Study for the Etching. G. 108_) (_Pencil Sketch_) 180
Formerly in the possession of J. H. Wrenn, Esq.
WHISTLER IN HIS STUDIO (_Oil_) 196
In the Chicago Art Institute
MAUD STANDING (_Etching. G. 114_) 196
PORTRAIT OF SIR HENRY IRVING AS PHILIP II. OF
SPAIN--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK, NO. III. (_Oil_) 200
In the Metropolitan Museum, New York
PORTRAIT OF SIR HENRY COLE (_Oil_) (_Destroyed_) 200
From a photograph lent by Pickford R. Waller, Esq.
PORTRAIT OF MISS ROSA CORDER--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK AND BROWN 208
(_Oil_)
In the possession of H. C. Finck, Esq.
THE PEACOCK ROOM (_Photograph_) 208
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
DRAWING IN WASH FOR "A CATALOGUE OF BLUE AND WHITE NANKIN
PORCELAIN, FORMING THE COLLECTION OF SIR HENRY THOMPSON."
LONDON: ELLIS AND WHITE. 1878 216
In the possession of Pickford R. Waller, Esq.
STUDY (_Lithotint. W. 2_) 216
From a print lent by T. R. Way, Esq.
TALL BRIDGE (_Lithograph. W. 9_) 224
From a print lent by T. R. Way, Esq.
NOCTURNE (_Lithotint. W. 5_) 224
From "Notes" published by Goupil
From a print lent by T. R. Way, Esq.
OLD BATTERSEA BRIDGE--NOCTURNE IN BLUE AND GOLD (_Oil_) 232
In the National Gallery of British Art, Tate Gallery
THE FALLING ROCKET--NOCTURNE IN BLACK AND GOLD (_Oil_) 232
In the possession of Mrs. S. Untermeyer
THE BRIDGE (_Etching. G. 204_) 244
From the "Second Venice Set"
By the permission of Messrs. Dowdeswell
THE DOORWAY (_Etching. G. 188_) 244
From the "First Venice Set"
By the permission of the Fine Art Society
THE BEGGARS (_Etching. G. 194_) 252
From the "First Venice Set"
By permission of the Fine Art Society
THE RIALTO (_Etching. G. 211_) 252
From the "Second Venice Set"
By the permission of Messrs. Dowdeswell
PORTRAITS OF MAUD (_Oil_) (_Destroyed_) 258
From photographs lent by Pickford R. Waller, Esq.
JUBILEE MEMORIAL FROM THE SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS TO QUEEN
VICTORIA, 1887 (_Illumination_) 258
In the Royal Collection at Windsor
PORTRAIT OF LADY MEUX--HARMONY IN PINK AND GREY (_Oil_) 268
In the possession of H. C. Finck, Esq.
THE SALUTE, VENICE (_Water-Colour_) 268
In the possession of B. B. MacGeorge, Esq.
THE YELLOW BUSKIN--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK (_Oil_) 276
In the Wilstach Collection, Memorial Hall, Philadelphia
PORTRAIT OF M. THÉODORE DURET--ARRANGEMENT IN FLESH-COLOUR AND
PINK (_Oil_) 276
In the Metropolitan Museum, New York
PORTRAIT OF PABLO SARASATE--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK (_Oil_) 304
In the Carnegie Institute, Pittsburgh
PORTRAIT OF LADY COLIN CAMPBELL--HARMONY IN WHITE AND IVORY
(_Oil_) (_Destroyed_) 304
From a photograph lent by Pickford R. Waller, Esq.
ANNABEL LEE (_Pastel_) 312
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
THE CONVALESCENT (_Water-Colour_) 312
In the possession of Dr. J. W. MacIntyre
PORTRAIT OF MISS KINSELLA--THE IRIS, ROSE AND GREEN (_Oil_) 328
In the possession of Miss Kinsella
WHISTLER AT HIS PRINTING PRESS IN THE STUDIO,
RUE NOTRE-DAME-DES-CHAMPS, PARIS 328
From a photograph by M. Dornac
ILLUSTRATION TO LITTLE JOHANNES 336
PORTRAIT OF A LADY (_Drawings on Wood_)
In the Pennell Collection, Library of Congress, Washington
WATER-COLOUR LANDSCAPE 336
Loaned by Mrs. Mortimer Menpes
THE MASTER SMITH OF LYME REGIS (_Oil_) 340
In the Boston Museum of Fine Arts
THE SMITH, PASSAGE DU DRAGON (_Lithograph. W. 73_) 340
PORTRAIT OF MRS. A. J. CASSATT 344
THE BEACH (_Water-Colour_) 344
In the possession of Mrs. Knowles
SHOP WINDOW AT DIEPPE (_Water-Colour_) 344
THE THAMES (_Lithotint. W. 125_) 348
FIRELIGHT--JOSEPH PENNELL, NO. I. (_Lithograph. W. 104_) 348
From "Lithography and Lithographers"
By the permission of T. Fisher Unwin, Esq.
STUDY IN BROWN (_Oil_) 356
In the possession of the Baroness de Meyer
STUDY OF THE NUDE (_Pen Drawing_) 356
In the possession of William Heinemann, Esq.
THE LITTLE BLUE BONNET--BLUE AND CORAL (_Oil_)
Formerly in the possession of Wm. Heinemann, Esq. 360
ROSE AND GOLD--LITTLE LADY SOPHIE OF SOHO (_Oil_) 360
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of
American Art
MODEL WITH FLOWERS (_Pastel_) 368
In the possession of J. P. Heseltine, Esq.
GIRL WITH A RED FEATHER (_Oil_) 368
In the possession of the Executors of J. Staats Forbes
A FRESHENING BREEZE (_Oil_) 376
In the possession of J. S. Ure, Esq.
LILLIE IN OUR ALLEY--BROWN AND GOLD (_Oil_) 376
In the possession of J. J. Cowan, Esq.
THE SEA, POURVILLE (_Oil_) 388
In the possession of A. A. Hannay, Esq.
THE COAST OF BRITTANY--ALONE WITH THE TIDE (_Oil_) 388
Formerly in the possession of Ross Winans, Esq.
THE FUR JACKET--ARRANGEMENT IN BLACK AND BROWN (_Oil_) 388
_Picture in Progress:_
From a photograph lent by Pickford R. Waller, Esq.
_Completed Picture:_
In the Worcester Museum, Massachusetts
PORTRAIT OF MRS. WALTER SICKERT 404
In the possession of Mrs. Cobden-Sanderson
PORTRAIT OF MISS WOAKES 404
In the possession of Messrs. Knvedler and Co.
THE CHELSEA GIRL 416
PORTRAIT OF E. S. KENNEDY 416
In the Metropolitan Museum, New York
GALLERY AT THE LONDON MEMORIAL EXHIBITION 428
GALLERY AT THE BOSTON MEMORIAL EXHIBITION 428
WHISTLER'S GRAVE IN CHISWICK CEMETERY ADJOINING
CHISWICK CHURCHYARD 428
MONUMENT IN WHISTLER'S MEMORY AT THE UNITED STATES MILITARY
ACADEMY AT WEST POINT 428
CHAPTER I: THE WHISTLER FAMILY. THE YEARS EIGHTEEN THIRTY-FOUR TO
EIGHTEEN FORTY-THREE.
James Abbott McNeill Whistler was born on July 10, 1834, at Lowell,
Massachusetts, in the United States of America.
Whistler, in the witness-box during the suit he brought against Ruskin
in 1878, gave St. Petersburg as his birthplace--or the reporters
did--and he never denied it. Baltimore was given by M. Théodore Duret
in the _Gazette des Beaux-Arts_ (April 1881), and M. Duret's mistake,
since corrected by him, has been many times repeated. The late Mrs.
Livermore, who knew Whistler as a child at Lowell, asked him why he
did not contradict this. His answer was: "If any one likes to think I
was born in Baltimore, why should I deny it? It is of no consequence
to me!" On entering West Point he stated that Massachusetts was his
place of birth. But, as a rule, he met any one indiscreet enough to
question him on the subject as he did the American who came up to him
one evening in the Carlton Hotel, London, and by way of introduction
said, "You know, Mr. Whistler, we were both born at Lowell, and at very
much the same time. There is only the difference of a year--you are
sixty-seven and I am sixty-eight." "And I told him," said Whistler,
from whom we had the story the next day, "'Very charming! And so you
are sixty-eight and were born at Lowell! Most interesting, no doubt,
and as you please! But I shall be born when and where I want, and I do
not choose to be born at Lowell, and I refuse to be sixty-seven!'"
Whistler was christened at St. Anne's Church, Lowell, November 9, 1834.
"Baptized, James Abbott, infant son of George Washington and Anna
Mathilda Whistler: Sponsors, the parents. Signed, T. Edson"; so it is
recorded in the church register. He was named after James Abbott, of
Detroit, who had married his father's elder sister, Sarah Whistler.
McNeill (his mother's name) was added shortly after he entered West
Point. Abbott he always kept for legal and official documents. But,
eventually, he dropped it for other purposes, "J. A. M." pleasing
him no better than "J. A. W.," and he signed himself "James McNeill
Whistler" or "J. M. N. Whistler."
The Rev. Rose Fuller Whistler, in his _Annals of an English Family_
(1887), says that John le Wistler de Westhannye (1272-1307) was
the founder of the family. Most of the Whistlers lived in Goring,
Whitchurch, or Oxford, and are buried in many a church and churchyard
of the Thames Valley. Brasses and tablets to the memory of several are
in the church of St. Mary at Goring: one to "Hugh Whistler, the son of
Master John Whistler of Goring, who departed this life the 17 Day of
Januarie Anno Dominie 1675 being aged 216 years"--an amazing statement,
but there it is in the parish church durable as brass can make it, and
it would have delighted Whistler. The solemn antiquary, however, has
decided that the 21 is only a badly cut 4. This remarkable ancestor
figures as a family ghost at Gatehampton, where he is said to have been
buried with his money, and there he still walks, guarding the treasure
he lived so many years to gather. The position of the Whistlers
entitled them to a coat of arms, described in the Harleian MSS., No.
1556, and thus in _Gwillim's Heraldry_: "Gules, five mascles, in bend
between two Talbots passant argent"; and the motto "Forward."
The men were mostly soldiers and parsons. A few made names for
themselves. The shield of Gabriel Whistler, of Combe, Sussex, is one of
six in King's College Chapel, Cambridge. Anthony Whistler, poet, friend
of Shenstone, belonged to the Whitchurch family. Dr. Daniel Whistler
(1619-1684), of the Essex branch, was a Fellow of Merton, an original
Fellow of the Royal Society, a member and afterwards President of the
College of Physicians, friend of Evelyn and Pepys. Evelyn often met
him in "select companie" at supper, and once "Din'd at Dr. Whistler's
at the Physicians Colledge," and found him not only learned but "the
most facetious man in nature," the legitimate ancestor of Whistler.
Pepys, who also dined and supped with him many times, pronounced him
"good company and a very ingenious man." He fell under a cloud with
the officials of the College of Physicians, and his portrait has
been consigned to a back stairway of the Hall in Pall Mall. In the
seventeenth century Ralph Whistler, of the Salters' Company, London,
was one of the colonisers of Ulster, and Francis Whistler was a settler
of Virginia. When Whistler saw the name "Francis Whistler, Gentleman,"
in the _Genesis of the United States_, he said to us, "There is an
ancestor, with the hall-mark F.F.V. [First Families of Virginia], who
tickles my American snobbery, and washes out the taint of Lowell."
The American Whistlers are descended from John Whistler of the Irish
branch. In his youth he ran away and enlisted. Sir Kensington Whistler,
an English cousin, was an officer in the same regiment, and objected
to having a relative in the ranks. John Whistler, therefore, was
transferred to another regiment starting for the American colonies.
He arrived in time to surrender at Saratoga with Burgoyne. He went
back to England, received his discharge, eloped with Anna, daughter
of Sir Edward Bishop or Bischopp, and, returning to America, settled
at Hagerstown, Maryland. He again enlisted, this time in the United
States army. He rose to the brevet rank of major and served in the
war of 1812 against Great Britain. He was stationed at Fort Dearborn,
which he helped to build, and Fort Wayne. According to Mr. A. J. Eddy
(_Recollections and Impressions of Whistler_), Whistler once said to a
visitor from Chicago:
"Chicago, dear me, what a wonderful place! I really ought to visit it
some day; for, you know, my grandfather founded the city, and my uncle
was the last commander of Fort Dearborn!"
In 1815, upon the reduction of the army, Major John Whistler was
retired. He died in 1817, at Bellefontaine, Missouri. Of his fifteen
children, three sons are remembered as soldiers, and three daughters
married army officers. George Washington, the most distinguished son,
was the father of James Abbott McNeill Whistler.
George Washington Whistler was born on May 19, 1800, at Fort Wayne.
He was educated mostly at Newport, Kentucky; and from Kentucky, when
a little over fourteen, he received his appointment to the Military
Academy, West Point, where he is remembered for his gaiety. Mr. George
L. Vose, his biographer, and others tell stories that might have been
told of his son. One is of some breach of discipline, for which he was
made to bestride a gun on the campus. As he sat there he saw, coming
towards him, the Miss Swift he was before long to marry. Out came his
handkerchief, and, leaning over the gun, he set to work cleaning it
so carefully that he was "honoured, not disgraced," in her eyes. He
was number one in drawing, and his playing on the flute won him the
nickname "Pipes." He graduated on July 1, 1819. He was appointed second
lieutenant in the First Artillery, and, in 1829, first lieutenant
in the Second Artillery. He served on topographical duty, and for a
few months he was assistant professor at the Academy. There was not
much fighting for American officers of his generation. But railroads
were being built, and so few were the civil engineers that West Point
graduates were allowed by Government to work for private corporations,
and he was employed on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, the Baltimore
and Susquehanna, and the Paterson and Hudson River. For the Baltimore
and Ohio he went to England in 1828 to examine the railway system. He
was building the line from Stonington to Providence, when, in 1833,
he resigned from the army with the rank of major, to carry on his
profession as a civil engineer.
In the meanwhile Major Whistler had married twice. His first wife
was Mary Swift, daughter of Dr. Foster Swift, of the United States
army. She left three children: George, who became a well known civil
engineer; Joseph, who died in youth; and Deborah, Lady Haden. His
second wife was Anna Mathilda McNeill, daughter of Dr. Charles Donald
McNeill, of Wilmington, North Carolina, and sister of William Gibbs
McNeill, a West Point classmate and an associate in Major Whistler's
engineering work. The McNeills were descended from the McNeills of
Skye. Their chief, Donald, emigrated with sixty of his clan to North
Carolina in 1746, and bought land on Cape Fear River. Charles Donald
McNeill was his grandson and was twice married; his second wife,
Martha Kingsley, was the mother of Anna Mathilda McNeill, who became
Mrs. George Washington Whistler. The McNeills were related by marriage
to the Fairfaxes and other Virginia families, and Whistler, on his
mother's side, was the Southerner he loved to call himself.
In 1834 Major Whistler accepted the post of engineer of locks and
canals at Lowell, and to this town he brought his family. There, in the
Paul Moody House on Worthen Street, James McNeill Whistler was born,
and the house is now a Whistler Memorial Museum. Two years later the
second son, William Gibbs McNeill, was born. In 1837 Major Whistler
moved to Stonington, Connecticut, and Miss Emma W. Palmer and Mrs. Dr.
Stanton, his wife's nieces, still remember his "pleasant house on Main
Street." It is said that he had a chaise fitted with car wheels in
which he and his family drove every Sunday on the tracks to church at
Westerly; also that a locomotive named Whistler was in use on the road
until recently. He was consulted in regard to many new lines, among
them the Western Railroad of Massachusetts, for which he was consulting
engineer from 1836 to 1840. In 1840 he was made chief engineer, and
he removed to Springfield, Massachusetts, where he lived in the Ethan
Chapin Homestead on Chestnut Street, north of Edward Street. A third
son, Kirk Booth, born at Stonington in 1838, died at Springfield in
1842, and here a fourth son, Charles Donald, was born in 1841.
In 1842 Nicholas I. of Russia sent a commission, under Colonel
Melnikoff, round Europe and America to find the best method and the
best man to build a railroad from St. Petersburg to Moscow, and they
chose the American, George Washington Whistler. The honour was great
and the salary large, 12,000 dollars a year. He accepted, and started
for Russia in Midsummer 1842, leaving his family at Stonington.
The life of a child, for the first nine years or so, is not of
much interest to any save his parents. An idea can be formed of
Whistler's early training. His father was a West Point man, with all
that is fine in the West Point tradition. Mrs. Whistler, described
as "one of the saints upon earth," was as strict as a Puritan. Dr.
Whistler--Willie--often told his wife of the dread with which he and
Jimmie looked forward to Saturday afternoon, with its overhauling of
clothes, emptying of pockets, washing of heads, putting away of toys,
and preparation for Sunday, when the Bible was the only book they read.
Of the facts of his childhood there are few to record. Mrs. Livermore
remembered his baby beauty, so great that her father used to say "it
was enough to make Sir Joshua Reynolds come out of his grave and paint
Jemmie asleep." In his younger years he was called Jimmie, Jemmie,
Jamie, James, and Jim, and we use these names as we have found them
in the letters written to us and the books quoted. Mrs. Livermore
dwelt on the child's beautiful hands, "which belong to so many of the
Whistlers." When she returned to Lowell in 1836 from the Manor School
at York, England, Mrs. Whistler's son, Willie, had just been born:
"As soon as Mrs. Whistler was strong enough, she sent for me to go and
see her boy, and I did see her and her baby in bed! And then I asked,
'Where is Jemmie, of whom I have heard so much?' She replied, 'He was
in the room a short time since, and I think he must be here still.' So
I went softly about the room till I saw a very small form prostrate and
at full length on the shelf under the dressing-table, and I took hold
of an arm and a leg and placed him on my knee, and then said, 'What
were you doing, dear, under the table?' 'I'se drawrin',' and in one
very beautiful little hand he held the paper, in the other the pencil."
The pencil drawings which we have seen, owned by Mrs. Livermore, are
curiously firm and strong for a child of four.
CHAPTER II: IN RUSSIA. THE YEARS EIGHTEEN FORTY-THREE TO EIGHTEEN
FORTY-NINE.
In 1843, when Whistler was nine years old, Major Whistler sent for his
wife and children. Mrs. Whistler sailed from Boston in the _Arcadia_,
August 12, 1843, taking with her Deborah and the three boys, James,
William, and Charles. George Whistler, Major Whistler's eldest son, and
her "good maid Mary" went with them. The story of their journey and
their life in Russia is recorded in Mrs. Whistler's journal.
They arrived at Liverpool on the 29th of the same month. Mrs.
Whistler's two half-sisters, Mrs. William Winstanley and Miss Alicia
McNeill, lived at Preston, and there they stayed a fortnight. Then,
after a few days in London, they sailed for Hamburg.
There was no railroad from Hamburg, so they drove by carriage
to Lübeck, by stage to Travemünde, where they took the steamer
_Alexandra_ for St. Petersburg, and George Whistler left them. Between
Travemünde and Cronstadt, Charles, the youngest child, fell ill of
seasickness and died within a day. There was just time to bury him at
Cronstadt--temporarily; he was afterwards buried at Stonington--and
his death saddened the meeting between Major Whistler and his wife and
children.
Mrs. Whistler objected to hotels and to boarding, and a house was
found in the Galernaya. She did her best to make it not only a
comfortable, but an American home, for Major Whistler's attachment to
his native land, she said, was so strong as to be almost a religious
sentiment. Their food was American, American holidays were kept in
American fashion. Many of their friends were Americans. Major Whistler
was nominally consulting engineer to Colonel Melnikoff, but actually
in charge of the construction and equipment of the line, and as the
material was supplied by the firm of Winans of Baltimore, Mr. Winans
and his partners, Messrs. Harrison and Eastwick, of Philadelphia, were
in Russia with their families.
Mrs. Whistler's strictness did not mean opposition to pleasure. Yet
at times she became afraid that her boys were not "keeping to the
straight and narrow way." There were evenings of illuminations that put
off bedtime; there were afternoons of skating and coasting; Christmas
gaieties, with Christmas dinners of roast turkey and pumpkin pie;
visits to American friends; parties at home, when the two boys "behaved
like gentlemen, and their father commended them upon it"; there were
presents of guns from the father, returning from long absences on the
road; there were dancing lessons, which Jemmie would have done anything
rather than miss.
Whistler as a boy was exactly what those who knew him as a man would
expect; gay and bright, absorbed in his work when that work was
art, brave and fearless, selfish if selfishness is another name for
ambition, considerate and kindly, above all to his mother. The boy,
like the man, was delightful to those who understood him; "startling,"
"alarming," to those who did not.
Mrs. Whistler's journal soon becomes extremely interesting:
_March 29_ (1844). "I must not omit recording our visiting the
Gastinnoi to-day in anticipation of Palm Sunday. Our two boys were
most excited, Jemmie's animation roused the wonder of many, for even
in crowds here such decorum and gravity prevails that it must be
surprising when there is any ebullition of joy."
_April 22_ (1844). "Jemmie is confined to his bed with a mustard
plaster on his throat; he has been very poorly since the thawing season
commenced, soon becoming overheated, takes cold; when he complained of
pain first in his shoulder, then in his side, my fears of a return of
last year's attack made me tremble, and when I gaze upon his pale face
sleeping, contrasted to Willie's round cheeks, my heart is full; our
dear James said to me the other day, so touchingly, 'Oh, I am sorry
the Emperor ever asked father to come to Russia, but if I had the boys
here, I should not feel so impatient to get back to Stonington,' yet I
cannot think the climate here affects his health; Willie never was as
stout in his native land, and James looks better than when we brought
him here. At eight o'clock I am often at my reading or sewing without a
candle, and I cannot persuade James to put up his drawing and go to bed
while it is light."
The journal explains that Whistler as a boy suffered from severe
rheumatic attacks that added to the weakness of his heart, the eventual
cause of his death. Major and Mrs. Whistler rented a country-house on
the Peterhoff Road in the spring of 1844. There is an account of a
day at Tsarskoé Seló, when Colonel Todd, American Minister to Russia,
showed them the Palace:
_May 6_ (1844). "Rode to the station, and took the cars upon the only
railroad in Russia, which took us the twenty versts to the pretty town.
It would be ungenerous in me to remark how inferior the railroad,
cars, &c., seemed to us Americans. The boys were delighted with it
all. Jemmie wished he could stay to examine the fine pictures and know
who painted them, but as I returned through the grounds I asked him if
he should wish to be a grand duke and own it all for playgrounds: he
decided there could be no freedom with a footman at his heels."
_July 1_ (1844). "... I went with Willie to do some shopping in the
Nevski. He is rather less excitable than Jemmie, and therefore more
tractable. They each can make their wants known in Russ., but I prefer
this gentlest of my dear boys to go with me. We had hardly reached
home when a tremendous shower came up, and Jemmie and a friend, who
had been out in a boat on a canal at the end of our avenue, got well
drenched. Just as we were seated at tea, a carriage drove up and Mr.
Miller entered, introducing Sir William Allen, the great Scotch artist,
of whom we have heard lately, who has come to St. Petersburg to revive
on canvas some of the most striking events from the life of Peter the
Great. They had been to the monastery to listen to the chanting at
vespers in the Greek chapel. Mr. Miller congratulated his companion on
being in the nick of time for our excellent home-made bread and fresh
butter, but, above all, the refreshment of a good cup of tea. His chat
then turned upon the subject of Sir William Allen's painting of Peter
the Great teaching the mujiks to make ships. This made Jemmie's eyes
express so much interest that his love for art was discovered, and Sir
William must needs see his attempts. When my boys had said good night,
the great artist remarked to me, 'Your little boy has uncommon genius,
but do not urge him beyond his inclination.' I told him his gift
had only been cultivated as an amusement, and that I was obliged to
interfere, or his application would confine him more than we approved."
Of these attempts there remain few examples. One is the portrait of his
aunt Alicia McNeill, who visited them in Russia in 1844, sent to Mrs.
Palmer at Stonington, with the inscription: "James to Aunt Kate." In a
letter to Mrs. Livermore, written in French, when he was ten or eleven,
"he enclosed some pretty pen-and-ink drawings, each on a separate bit
of paper, and each surrounded by a frame of his own designing." He told
us he could remember wonderful things he had done during the years in
Russia. Once, he said, when on a holiday in London with his father, he
was not well, and was given a hot foot-bath, and he could never forget
how he sat looking at his foot, and then got paper and colours and set
to work to make a study of it, "and in Russia," he added, "I was always
doing that sort of thing."
_July 4_ (1844). "I have given my boys holiday to celebrate the
Independence of their country.... This morning Jemmie began relating
anecdotes from the life of Charles XII. of Sweden, and rather upbraided
me that I could not let him do as that monarch had done at seven years
old--manage a horse! I should have been at a loss how to afford my boys
a holiday, with a military parade to-day, but there was an encampment
of cadets, about two estates off, and they went with Colonel T.'s sons
to see them."
_July 10_ (1844). "A poem selected by my darling Jamie and put under
my plate at the breakfast-table, as a surprise on his tenth birthday.
I shall copy it, that he may be reminded of his happy childhood when
perhaps his grateful mother is not with him."
_August 20_ (1844). "... Jemmie is writing a note to his Swedish tutor
on his birthday. Jemmie loves him sincerely and gratefully. I suppose
his partiality to this Swede makes him espouse his country's cause
and admire the qualities of Charles XII. so greatly to the prejudice
of Peter the Great. He has been quite enthusiastic while reading the
life of this King of Sweden, this summer, and too willing to excuse his
errors."
_August 23_ (1844). "I wish I could describe the gardens at Peterhoff
where we were invited to drive to-day. The fountains are, perhaps, the
finest in the world. The water descends in sheets over steps, all the
heathen deities presiding. Jemmie was delighted with the figure of
Samson tearing open the jaws of the lion, from which ascends a _jet
d'eau_ one hundred feet.... There are some fine pictures, but Peter's
own paintings of the feathered race ought to be most highly prized,
though our Jemmie was so saucy as to laugh at them."
_August 28_ (1844). "I avail myself of Col. Todd's invitation to visit
Tsarskoé Seló to-day with Aunt Alicia, Deborah, and the two dear boys,
who are always so delighted at these little excursions.... My little
Jemmie's heart was made sad by discovering swords which had been taken
in the battle between Peter and Charles XII., for he knew, from their
rich hilts set in pearls and precious stones, that they must have
belonged to noble Swedes. 'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'I'd rather have one of
these than all the other things in the armoury! How beautiful they
are!'... I was somewhat annoyed that Col. Todd had deemed it necessary
to have a dinner party for us.
"... The colonel proposed the Emperor's health in champagne, which
not even the Russian general, who declined wine, could refuse, and
even I put my glass to my lips, which so encouraged my little boys
that they presented their glasses to be filled, and, forgetting at
their little side-table the guests at ours, called out aloud, _'Santé
à l'Empereur!'_ The captain clapped his hands with delight, and
afterwards addressed them in French. All at the table laughed and
called the boys '_Bons sujets_.'"
They were at St. Petersburg again in September, preparing their
Christmas gifts for America. Whistler, sending one to his cousin Amos
Palmer, wrote in an outburst of patriotism that "the English were
going to America to be licked by the Yankees": it was at the time of
the disagreement over Oregon Territory. In another letter he gives the
Fourth of July as his birthday.
_Ash Wednesday_ (1845). "I avail myself of this Lenten season to have
my boys every morning before breakfast recite a verse from the Psalms,
and I, who wish to encourage them, am ready with my response. How very
thankful I shall be when the weather moderates so that Jemmie's long
imprisonment may end, and Willie have his dear brother with him in the
skating grounds and ice-hills. Here comes my good boy Jemmie now, with
his history in hand to read to me, as he does every afternoon, as we
fear they may lose their own language in other tongues, and thus I gain
a half-hour's enjoyment by hearing them read daily."
_April 5_ (1845). "Our boys have left the breakfast table before eight
o'clock to trundle their new hoops on the Quai with their governess,
and have brought home such bright red cheeks and buoyant spirits to
enter the schoolroom with and to gladden my eyes. Jemmie began his
course of drawing lessons at the Academy of Fine Arts just on the
opposite side of the Neva, exactly fronting my bedroom window. He is
entered at the second room. There are two higher, and he fears he
shall not reach them, because the officer who is still to continue his
private lesson at home is a pupil himself in the highest, and Jemmie
looks up to him with all the reverence an artist merits. He seems
greatly to enjoy going to his class, and yesterday had to go by the
bridge on account of the ice, and felt very important when he told me
he had to give the Isvóshtclók fifteen copecks silver instead of ten."
In the archives of the Imperial Academy of Science there is a "List of
Scholars of the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts," and in this and the
"Class Journal of the Inspector" for 1845 James Whistler is entered as
"belonging to the drawing class, heads from Nature." In 1846 he was on
March 2 examined and passed as first in his class, the number being
twenty-eight. From 1845 to 1849 Professors Vistelious and Voivov were
the masters of the life class.
On May 14 (1845) there was a review of troops in St. Petersburg, and
the Whistlers saw it from a window in the Prince of Oldenburg's palace.
"Jemmie's eagerness to attain all his desires for information and his
fearlessness often makes him offend, and it makes him appear less
amiable than he really is. The officers, however, seemed to find
amusement in his remarks in French or English as they accosted him.
They were soon informed of his military ardour, and that he hoped to
serve his country. England? No, indeed! Russia, then? No, no; America,
of course!"
_May 2_ (1846). "The boys are in the schoolroom now, reading the Roman
history in French to M. Lamartine, promising themselves the pleasure
of reviewing the pictures at the Academy of Fine Arts at noon, which
they have enjoyed almost every day this week. It is the Triennial
Exhibition, and we like them to become familiar with the subjects
of the modern artists, and to James especially it is the greatest
treat we could offer. I went last Wednesday with Whistler and was
highly gratified. I should like to take some of the Russian scenes so
faithfully portrayed to show in my native land. My James had described
a boy's portrait said to be _his_ likeness, and although the eyes were
black and the curls darker, we found it so like him that his father
said he would be glad to buy it, but its frame would only correspond
with the furniture of a palace. The boy is taken in a white shirt with
crimped frill, open at the throat; it is half-length, and no other
garment could show off the glow of the brunette complexion so finely."
_May 30_ (1846). "Yesterday the Empress was welcomed back to St.
Petersburg. Last night the illumination which my boys had been eagerly
expecting took place. When at 10.30 they came in, Jamie expressed such
an eager desire that I would allow him to be my escort just to take
a peep at the Nevski that I could not deny him. The effect of the
light from Vasili Ostrow was very beautiful, and as we drove along the
Quai, the flowers and decorations of large mansions were, I thought,
even more tasteful. We had to fall into a line of carriages in the
Isaac Square to enter that Broadway, and just then a shout from the
populace announced to us that the Empress was passing. I was terrified
lest the poles of their carriage should run into our backs, or that
some horses might take fright or bite us, we were so close, but Jamie
laughed heartily and aloud at my timidity. He behaved like a man. With
one arm he guarded me, and with the other kept the animals at a proper
distance; and, I must confess, brilliant as the spectacle was, _my_
great pleasure was derived from the conduct of my dear and manly boy."
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF WHISTLER AS A BOY
By Sir William Boxall
In the Charles L. Freer Collection, National Gallery of American Art
(_See page 18_)]
[Illustration: THE TWO BROTHERS. MINIATURE
Lent by Miss Emma Palmer
Formerly in the possession of Mrs. George D. Stanton and Miss Emma W.
Palmer
Artist unknown
(_See page 19_)]
_July 7_ (1846). "My two boys found much amusement in propelling
themselves on the drawbridge to and from the fancy island in the pond
at Mrs. G.'s, where we went to spend the day; they find it such a
treat to be in the country, and just run wild, chasing butterflies and
picking the wild flowers so abundant. But nothing gave them so much
pleasure as their 4th July, spent with their little American friends at
Alexandrovsky, the Eastwicks; the fireworks, percussion caps, muskets,
horseback riding, &c., made them think it the most delightful place in
Russia. In some way James caught cold, and his throat was so inflamed
that leeches were applied, and he has been in consequence confined to
his room.... We spend our mornings in reading, drawing, &c. Then the
boys take their row with good John across the Neva, to the morning
bath, and in the cool of the afternoon a drive to the island, or a
range in the summer gardens, or a row on the river."
_July 27_ (1846). "Last Wednesday they had another long day in the
country, and got themselves into much mischief. They had at last broken
the ropes of the drawbridge, by which it was drawn to and from the
island, and there were my wild boys prisoners on it. I thought it best
for them to remain so, as they were so unruly, but the good-natured
dominie was pressed into their service, and swimming to their rescue,
ere I could interfere; Jemmie was so drenched by his efforts that dear
Mrs. R. took him away to her room to coax him to lie down awhile and to
rub him dry, lest his sore throat return to tell a tale of disobedience.
"... On Thursday there was another grand celebration of the birthday
of the Grand Duchess Olga. I gladly gave Mary permission to take the
boys in our carriage.... They were gone so long that I grew anxious
about them, but finally they arrived very tired, and poor Mary said
she never wanted to go in such a crowd again. James had protected her
as well as he was able, but she was glad to get home safely. The boys,
however, enjoyed it immensely, as they saw all the Imperial family
within arm's length, as they alighted from their pony chaises to enter
the New Palace.... We were invited to go to the New Palace, and went
immediately to the apartment occupied by his lamented daughter. On one
side is the lovely picture painted by Buloff, so like her in life and
health, though taken after death, as representing her spirit passing
upwards to the palace above the blue sky. She wears her Imperial
robes, with a crown on her head; at the back of the crown is a halo
of glory--the stars surround her as she passes through them. No wonder
James should have thought this picture the most interesting of all the
works of art around us."
In the autumn of 1846 Major Whistler "placed the boys, as boarders, at
M. Jourdan's school. My dear boys almost daily exchange _billet-doux_
with mother, since their absence of a week at a time from home.
James reported everything 'first-rate,' even to brown bread and salt
for breakfast, and greens for dinner, and both forbore to speak of
homesickness, and welcome, indeed, were they on their first Saturday at
home, when they opened the front door and called 'Mother, Mother!' as
they rushed in all in a glow, and they looked almost handsome in their
new round black cloth caps, set to one side of their cropped heads,
and the tight school uniform of grey trousers and black jacket makes
them appear taller and straighter; Jamie found the new suit too tight
for his drawing lesson, so he sacrificed vanity to comfort, and was
not diverted from his two hours' drawing by the other boys' frolics,
which argues well for his determination to improve, as he promised his
father. How I enjoyed having them back and listening to all their chat
about their school--they seemed to enjoy their nice home tea. When it
came time for them to go back, Willie broke down and told me all he had
suffered from homesickness, and when I talked to my more manly James,
I unfortunately said, 'You do not know what he feels.' Then Jamie's
wounded love melted him into tears, as he said, 'Oh! mother, you think
I don't miss being away from home!' He brushed away the shower with the
back of his hand as if he was afraid of being seen weeping. Dear boys,
may they never miss me as I miss them!"
Shortly after this, Mrs. Whistler's youngest son, John Bouttatz, born
in the summer of 1845, died.
_November 14_ (1846). "Jamie was kept in until night last Saturday, and
made to write a given portion of French over twenty-five times as a
punishment for stopping to talk to a classmate after their recitation,
instead of marching back to his seat according to order--poor fellow,
it was rather severe when he had looked only for rewards during
the week; as he had not had one mark of disapprobation in all that
time, and was so much elated by his number of good balls for perfect
recitations that he forgot disobedience of orders is a capital offence
under military discipline. He lost his drawing lesson, and made us all
unhappy at home. We tried to keep his dinner hot, but his appetite
had forsaken him, although only having eaten a penny roll since
breakfast--he dashed the tears of vexation from his eyes at losing his
drawing lesson, but his cheerfulness was soon restored and we had our
usual pleasant evening."
_January 23_ (1847). "It is three weeks this afternoon since the dear
boys came home from school to spend the Russian Christmas and holidays,
and it seems not probable that they shall return again to M. Jourdan's
this winter. James was drooping from the close confinement, and for two
days was confined to his bed. Then Willie was taken. They are quite
recovered now, and skate almost daily on the Neva, and Jamie often
crosses on the ice to the Academy of Fine Arts to spend an hour or two."
_January 30_ (1847). "Jamie was taken ill with a rheumatic attack soon
after this, and I have had my hands full, for he has suffered much with
pain and weariness, but he is gradually convalescing, and to-day he was
able to walk across the floor; he has been allowed to amuse himself
with his pencil, while I read to him; he has not taken a dose of
medicine during the attack, but great care was necessary in his diet."
_February 27_ (1847). "Never shall I cease to record with deep
gratitude dear Jamie's unmurmuring submission these last six weeks. He
still cannot wear jacket or trousers, as the blistering still continues
on his chest. What a blessing is such a contented temper as his, so
grateful for every kindness, and rarely complains. He is now enjoying
a huge volume of Hogarth's engravings, so famous in the Gallery of
Artists. We put the immense book on the bed, and draw the great
easy-chair close up, so that he can feast upon it without fatigue. He
said, while so engaged yesterday, 'Oh, how I wish I were well; I want
so to show these engravings to my drawing-master; it is not everyone
who has a chance of seeing Hogarth's own engravings of his originals,'
and then added, in his own happy way, 'and if I had not been ill,
mother, perhaps no one would have thought of showing them to me.'"
From this time until his death, Whistler maintained that Hogarth was
the greatest English artist, and never lost an opportunity of saying
so. His long illness in 1847 is therefore memorable as the beginning
of his love of Hogarth and also as a proof of his early appreciation
of great art. Curiously, in his mother's diary there is no mention of
the Hermitage, nor in his talks with us did he ever refer to it and to
the pictures there by Velasquez, the artist he later grew to admire so
enormously.
_March 23_ (1847). "After many postponements, the Emperor finally
inspected the Railroad ... and many of the Court were invited. The
day after his visit ... the Court held a _levée_, my husband was
invited; when he arrived was summoned to a private audience in an
inner apartment; the Emperor met him with marked kindness, kissed him
on each side his face, and hung an ornament suspended by a scarlet
ribbon around his neck, saying the Emperor thus conferred upon him the
Order of St. Anne. Whistler, as such honours are new to Republicans,
was somewhat abashed, but when he returned with the Court to the
large circle in the outer room, he was congratulated by the officers
generally."
It is said that when Major Whistler was asked to wear the Russian
uniform he refused. The decoration he could not decline.
Whistler told us that the Emperor was most impressed with the way his
father met every difficulty. When Major Whistler asked the Czar how
the line should be built, showing him the map of the country between
St. Petersburg and Moscow, the Czar, as everybody now knows, took
a ruler, drew a straight line from one city to the other, and the
railroad follows that ruled line. But everybody does not know that
when the rolling stock was ready it was found to have been made of a
different gauge from the rails. The people who supplied it demanded to
be paid. Major Whistler not only refused, but burnt it, and took the
responsibility.
Mrs. Whistler and the three children spent the summer of 1847 in
England, where Major Whistler joined them. They visited their
relations, and before their return Deborah was married. She had met
Seymour Haden, a young surgeon, while staying with friends, the
Chapmans, at Preston.
_October 10_ (1847). "Deborah's wedding day. Bright and pleasant. James
the only groomsman, and very proud of the honour."
The next summer (1848) Mrs. Whistler went back to England. Jamie had
had another of his bad attacks of rheumatic fever, cholera broke out in
St. Petersburg; "at its very name," she wrote, "my heart failed me." On
July 6 she left for London with her boys. Jamie was better, and anxious
to make a portrait of a young Hindu aboard.
_July 22_ (1848). "_Shanklin, Isle of Wight._ This is Willie's twelfth
birthday and has been devoted to his pleasure; poor Jamie was envious
that he could not bathe with us in the beautiful summer sea, for the
doctors think the bracing air as much as he can bear; we three had a
seaside ramble and then returned to rest at our cottage. I plied the
needle, while my boys amused themselves, Willie in making wax flowers
and Jemmie in drawing."
_Monday_ [_no date_]. "This day being especially fine, Mrs. P. took
the boys on a pedestrian excursion along the shore to Culver Cliffs.
In the hope that Jamie might finish his sketch of Cook's Castle, we
started the next day after an early dinner, taking a donkey with us
for fear of fatigue for James or Deborah.... We availed ourselves of
a lovely bright morning to take a drive, said to be the most charming
in England, along the south coast of the Isle as far as 'Black Gang
Chine,' where we alighted at the inn. Jamie flew off like a sea-fowl,
his sketch-book in hand, and when I finally found him, he was seated
on the red sandy beach, down, down, down, where it was with difficulty
Willie and I followed him. He was attempting the sketch of the
waterfall and cavern up the side of the precipice; he came back later,
glowing with the exercise of climbing, with sketch-book in hand, and
laughing at being 'Jacky last,' as we were all assembled for our drive
back."
James did not return with Mrs. Whistler. It was feared his health would
not stand another Russian winter. He stayed with the Hadens at 62
Sloane Street, and studied with a clergyman who had one other pupil.
It was then that Boxall, commissioned by Major Whistler, painted his
portrait, "when he was fourteen years old," Mrs. Thynne, his niece,
says.
Mr. Alan S. Cole, C.B., recalls that "Whistler, as early as 1849,
was staying with the Hadens in Sloane Street, and went to one or two
children's parties given by the old Dilkes. To these also went my
elder sisters and Miss Thackeray and so met Jimmy. Seymour Haden was
our family doctor--with whose family ours was intimate--very much on
account of the early relations between my father, his brothers, and
Seymour Haden, dating from schooldays at Christ's Hospital."
Major Whistler, through the summer of 1848, continued his work, though
cholera raged. In November he was attacked. He recovered, but his
health was shaken; he overtaxed his strength, and on April 9, 1849, he
died: the immediate cause heart trouble, which his son inherited. He
had been employed or consulted also in the building of the iron roof of
the Riding House at St. Petersburg and the iron bridge over the Neva,
in the improvement of the Dvina at Archangel, and the fortifications,
the arsenal, and the docks at Cronstadt. He was buried in Evergreen
Cemetery, Stonington, with three of his sons, and a monument was
erected to his memory by his fellow officers in Greenwood Cemetery,
Brooklyn.
The Emperor suggested, Whistler told us, that the boys should be
educated in the school for Court pages. But Mrs. Whistler determined
to take them home, and the Emperor sent her in his State barge to
the Baltic. She went to the Hadens, where she found James grown tall
and strong. In London they forgot for a moment their sorrow in their
visit to the Royal Academy (1849), in Trafalgar Square, where Boxall's
portrait of James was exhibited. A short visit to Preston followed, the
two boys carried off by "kind Aunt Alicia" to Edinburgh and Glasgow,
and then they met in Liverpool. Economy made Mrs. Whistler hesitate
between steamer and sailing-packet, but, by the advice of George
Whistler, she took the steamer _America_, July 29, 1849, for New York,
where they arrived on August 9, at once going by boat to Stonington.
CHAPTER III: SCHOOLDAYS IN POMFRET. THE YEARS EIGHTEEN FORTY-NINE TO
EIGHTEEN FIFTY-ONE.
"The boys were brought up like little princes until their father's
death, which changed everything," Miss Emma W. Palmer writes us. Major
Whistler's salary was large, so were his expenses; we have never heard
there was a pension. He left his family comparatively poor--fifteen
hundred dollars a year.
Mrs. Whistler would have preferred to stay at Stonington, but for her
two sons' sake she went to Pomfret, Connecticut, where there was a
good school, Christ Church Hall. The principal was Rev. Dr. Roswell
Park, a West Point engineer before he became parson and school teacher.
At Pomfret Mrs. Whistler made herself a home. She could only afford
part of an old farmhouse, and she felt keenly the discomfort for
her boys. Yet she kept up the old discipline. On Christmas Day she
wrote to her mother that they had been busy all morning bringing in
wood and listing draughty doors, though she allowed them to lighten
their task by hanging up evergreens and to sweeten it with "Stuart's
Candy." After a snowstorm, they had, like other boys, to shovel paths,
and all the while they had to study. "Jimmie was still an excitable
spirit with little perseverance," she wrote; however, she would not
faint but labour, and "I urged them on daily, and could see already
their exertions to overcome habits of indolence." The Bible was read
and the two boys were made to recite a verse every morning before
breakfast. Miss Palmer, their schoolmate, during the winter of 1850,
remembers that Mrs. Whistler "was very strict with them," and describes
Whistler at this period as "tall and slight, with a pensive, delicate
face, shaded by soft brown curls, one lock of which fell over his
forehead.... He had a somewhat foreign appearance and manner, which,
aided by his natural abilities, made him very charming even at that
age.... He was one of the sweetest, loveliest boys I ever met, and was
a great favourite."
The deepest impression he left at Pomfret was as a draughtsman. He
made caricatures and illustrations to the books he read, portraits of
his friends, and landscapes. Many of his sketches have been preserved.
The late Mrs. Louise Chandler Moulton, also one of his schoolmates,
describes him as "a man as fascinating as he was great, with a charm
which from the very beginning everyone who knew him recognised."
Whistler told us that he used to walk to school with her, carrying her
books and basket, and she wrote us:
"He was very attentive and kind; full of fun in those days. The master
of the school--Rev. Dr. Roswell Park--was one of the stiffest and most
precise of clergymen, and dressed the part. One day Whistler came to
school with a high, stiff collar and a tie precisely copied from Dr.
Park's. Of course, the schoolroom was full of suppressed laughter.
The reverend gentleman was very angry, but he could hardly take open
notice of an offence of that sort. So he bottled up his wrath, but
when Jimmy--as we used to call him in those schooldays--gave him some
trifling cause of offence, the Rev. Dr. went for him with a ferrule.
The school was in two divisions--the girls sitting on one side of the
large hall, and the boys on the other. Jimmy, pursued by the Dr. and
the ferrule, went round back of the girls' row, and threw himself down
on the floor, and the Dr. followed him and whacked him, more, I think,
to Jimmy's amusement than to his discomfort."
Mrs. Moulton had further recollections of the maps he drew, which "were
at once the pride and the envy of all the rest of us--they were so
perfect, so delicate, so exquisitely dainty in workmanship."
The work done at Pomfret by Whistler which we have seen does not strike
us as remarkable. It has its historic importance, but shows no greater
evidence of genius than the early work of any great artist.
CHAPTER IV: WEST POINT. THE YEARS EIGHTEEN FIFTY-ONE TO EIGHTEEN
FIFTY-FOUR.
Though Whistler's mother was proud of his drawing, she did not see in
art a career for him. She thought he had inherited a profession more
distinguished. Many Whistlers and McNeills had been soldiers. West
Point had made of them men--Americans. West Point must do the same for
him. Through the influence of George Whistler with Daniel Webster,
he was appointed cadet At Large by President Fillmore, and on July
1, 1851, after two years at Pomfret school, within ten days of his
seventeenth birthday, he entered the United States Military Academy,
West Point, where Colonel Robert E. Lee was Commandant. Whistler was
not made for the army any more than Giotto for Tuscan pastures, or
Corot for a Paris bonnet shop. It was inevitable that he should fail.
Yet his three years at West Point were an experience he would not have
missed.
[Illustration: BIBI LALOUETTE
ETCHING. G. 51
(_See page 38_)]
[Illustration: STREET AT SAVERNE
ETCHING. G. 19
(_See page 43_)]
The record sent to us from West Point by Colonel C. W. Larned is: "He
entered July 1, 1851, under the name of James A. Whistler; aged sixteen
years and eleven months. He was appointed At Large.... At the end
of his second year, in 1853, he was absent with leave on account of
ill-health. On June 16, 1854, he was discharged from the Academy for
deficiency in chemistry. At that time he stood at the head of his class
in drawing and No. 39 in philosophy, the total number in the class
being 43."
The Professor of Drawing was Robert W. Weir. Mr. J. Alden Weir, his
son, remembers, "as a boy, my father showing me his work, which at that
time hung in what was known as the Gallery of the Drawing Academy.
There were about ten works by him framed. From the start he showed
evidences of a talent which later proved to be unique in those fine and
rare qualities hard to be understood by the majority."
Brigadier-General Alexander S. Webb, one of Whistler's classmates,
says: "In the art class one day, while Whistler was busy over an
India-ink drawing of a French peasant girl, Weir walked, as usual, from
desk to desk, examining the pupils' work. After looking over Whistler's
shoulder he stepped back to his own desk, filled his brush with
India-ink [General Webb says he can see him now, rubbing the colour on
the slab], and approached Whistler with a view of correcting some of
the lines in the latter's drawing. When Whistler saw him coming, he
raised his hands as if to ward off the strokes of his brush, and called
out, 'Oh, don't, sir, don't! You'll spoil it!'"
Mr. William M. Chase told the story to Whistler and asked if there was
any truth in it. "Well, you know he would have!" said Whistler.
Colonel Larned writes us: "I have here two drawings made by Whistler in
his course of instruction in drawing, one of which is a water-colour
copy of a coloured print, without special merit, and much touched up
by Professor Weir, as was his wont; another, a pen-and-ink copy also
of a colour print, quite brilliant and masterful in execution, which I
presented to the officers' mess. The colour sketch bears the ear-marks
all over it of Weir's retouching. It was his habit to touch up all
water-colours of the cadets for the examination exhibition, and I don't
believe Whistler at that time had any such facility in colour work as
is indicated in this drawing. With my knowledge of my predecessor's
practice, which we instructors follow to the best of our ability, I
have always been suspicious of its integrity. At the same time Whistler
was head in drawing, and it may be that Weir forbore in his case. The
pen-and-ink, however, must have been his own interpretation of a
colour lithograph, and shows such facility that it makes me hesitate.
"Whistler did another water-colour of a monk seated at a table by a
window writing. This is also a copy of an old print which was used by
Weir through successive classes. I think it was ---- who saw the thing
and wrote a lot of tommy-rot and hi-falutin about it and Whistler's
satiric genius, and his introduction in the monk's face of that of his
room-mate, assuming it to have been an original production. As a matter
of fact I have copies of the same thing by cadets in the gallery, all
touched up by Weir, and I fancy about as good as Whistler's."
Of these West Point drawings, copies probably of lithographs by Nash
or Haghe, only the pen drawing gives any promise. The water-colour is
worthless. The pen drawing has in it the beginning of the handling of
his etchings. Five drawings, four of _An Hour in the Life of a Cadet_
in pen-and-ink, and one of _An Encampment_ in wash, have lately been
found at West Point. The cadet drawings are far the best of his early
work that we have seen. The _Century Magazine_ published (March 1910) a
lithograph, called _The Song of the Graduates_, said to be by Whistler.
It is evident, however, that if Whistler did make the sketch, it was
re-drawn by a professional lithographer at Sarony's, who printed it.
The _Century_ also published (September 1910) a wood-engraving of some
class function for which he is given the credit as draughtsman and
engraver. But the work is that of a professional wood-engraver and
could not have been done by Whistler at any period of his life. The
attribution of these published prints to him is altogether unjustified.
Of his other studies there is little to record. This is Colonel
Larned's account of his failure in chemistry: "Whistler said: 'Had
silicon been a gas, I would have been a major-general.' He was called
up for examination in chemistry ... and given silicon to discuss. He
began: 'I am required to discuss the subject of silicon. Silicon is a
gas.' 'That will do, Mr. Whistler,' and he retired quickly to private
life."
According to Colonel Larned, Whistler then appealed to General Lee,
but Lee answered, "I can only regret that one so capable of doing well
should so have neglected himself, and must suffer the penalty."
Another story is of an examination in history. "What!" said his
examiner, "you do not know the date of the battle of Buena Vista?
Suppose you were to go out to dinner, and the company began to talk of
the Mexican War, and you, a West Point man, were asked the date of the
battle, what would you do?" "Do," said Whistler, "why, I should refuse
to associate with people who could talk of such things at dinner!"
Whistler's horsemanship was little better. It was not unusual, General
Webb says, for him at cavalry drill to go sliding over his horse's
head. Then Major Sackett, the commander, would call out: "Mr. Whistler,
aren't you a little ahead of the squad?" Whistler said to us Major
Sackett's remark was: "Mr. Whistler, I am pleased to see you for once
at the head of your class!" "But I did it gracefully," he insisted.
There are traditions of his fall when trotting in his first mounted
drill, and the astonishment of the dragoon who ran to carry him off
to hospital, when he rose unhurt with the complaint that he didn't
"see how any man could keep a horse for amusement." Once Whistler
had to ride a horse called "Quaker." "Dragoon, what horse is this?"
"'Quaker,'" said the soldier "Well, he's no friend!" said Whistler.
His observance of the regulations was often as bad as his horsemanship,
and his excuses worse. General Ruggles, a classmate, tells of the
discovery of a pair of boots which were against the regulations, and of
his writing a long explanation, winding up with the argument that, as
this demerit added but a little to the whole number, "what boots it?"
General Langdon writes us: "The widow of a Colonel Thompson occupied a
set of officer's quarters at the 'Point,' and, to eke out her pension,
was allowed to take ten or twelve cadets to board. Very soon after
his admission to the Academy Whistler discovered that the fare of the
cadets was not of his taste, and he applied for permission to take
his meals at Mrs. Thompson's. Now, though her house was in the row of
officers' quarters and the nearest to the cadet barracks, it was 'off
cadet limits,' except for the boarders at meals. One evening, long
after supper, Whistler was discovered by Mrs. Thompson, leaning over
her fence, talking with her pretty French maid. Mrs. Thompson inquired
his business there. Whistler replied: 'I am looking for my cat!' It
was well known that cadets were not allowed to keep cats, dogs, or
other beasts. The old lady nearly had a fit. As soon as she could
recover she gasped out: 'Young man, go 'way!' and sent her pretty maid
indoors. Of course, Whistler took no more meals at Mrs. Thompson's, but
in the mess hall, where the fare in those days was far from inviting."
Whistler told Sir Rennell Rodd another story: "The cadets were out
early one morning, engaged in surveying. It was cold and raw, and
Jimmy, finding a line of deep ditch through which he could make
a retiring movement, got back into college and his warm quarters
unperceived. By accident a roll-call was held that morning. Cadet
Whistler not being present, a report was drawn up and his name was sent
to the commanding officer as absent from parade without the knowledge
or permission of his instructor. The report was shown him, and he said
to the instructor: 'Have I your permission to speak?' 'Speak on, Cadet
Whistler.' 'You have reported me, sir, for being absent from parade
without the knowledge or permission of my instructor. Well, now, if I
was absent without your knowledge or permission, how did you know I was
absent?' They got into terms after that, and the incident closed."
The stories of Whistler at West Point might be multiplied. Many have
been published. The few we tell show that at the Military Academy, as
everywhere, he left his mark. We have a stronger proof in the letters
written to us by officers who were his fellow cadets. It is half a
century since they and Whistler were together, and, with one exception,
they never saw him in later years, yet their memory of him is fresh.
General D. McN. Gregg and General C. B. Comstock, his classmates,
General Loomis L. Langdon, General Henry L. Abbott, General Oliver
Otis Howard, General G. W. C. Lee, in the class before his, have sent
us their recollections. These distinguished officers agree in their
affection and their appreciation of him. He was "a vivacious and
likeable little fellow," General Comstock says, and we get a picture
of him, short and slight, not over military in his bearing, somewhat
foreign in appearance, near-sighted, and with thick, black curls that
won him the name of "Curly." Others remember his wit, his pranks, his
fondness for cooking and the excellence of his dishes; his excursions
"after taps," for buckwheat cakes and oysters or ice-cream and
soda-water to Joe's, and, for heavier fare, to Benny Haven's a mile
away, a serious offence; they remember his indifference to discipline,
and the number of his demerits, which they excuse as "not indicating
any moral obliquity," but due to such harmless faults as "lates,"
"absences," "clothing out of order"; most of all, they remember his
drawings--his caricatures of the cadets, the Board of Visitors, the
masters, his sketches scribbled over his text-books, his illustrations
to Dickens, Dumas, Victor Hugo. General Langdon recalls a picture that
he and Whistler painted together. Whistler gave these drawings away,
and many have been preserved. Even the cover of a geometry book, on
which he sketched and noted bets with General Webb, was kept by his
room-mate, Frederick L. Childs--_Les Enfants_ Whistler called him.
[Illustration: LA MÈRE GÉRARD
OIL
In the possession of William Heinemann, Esq.
(_See page 39_)]
[Illustration: HEAD OF AN OLD MAN SMOKING
OIL
In the Musée du Luxembourg
(_See page 52_)]
Whistler looked back to West Point with equal affection. He failed,
but West Point was the basis of his code of conduct. As a "West Point
man" he met every emergency, and his bearing, his carriage, showed the
influence of those days when he liked to look back to himself "very
dandy in grey." For the discipline, the tradition, the tone of the
Academy he never lost his respect. He knew what it could do in making
men of boys. "From the moment we came," he said to us, "we were United
States officers, not schoolboys, not college students. We were ruled,
not by little school or college rules, but by our honour, by our
deference to the unwritten law of tradition." He resented the least
innovation that threatened the hold of this tradition over the cadets.
"To take a cadet into court was destruction to the _morale_ of West
Point; it was such a disgrace to offend against the unwritten laws
that the offender's career was ruined." In the most trivial matters
he deplored deviation from the old standard. That was the reason of
his indignation when he heard that cadets were playing football, and,
worse, playing against college teams; to put themselves on the level of
students "was beneath the dignity of officers of the United States."
During our war with Spain, and the Boers' struggle in South Africa,
there was not an event, not a rumour, that he did not refer to West
Point and its code. The Spanish War, though, "no doubt, we should
never have gone into it, was the most wonderful, the most beautiful
war since Louis XIV. Never in modern times has there been such a war;
it was conducted on correct West Point principles, with the most
perfect courtesy and dignity on both sides, and the greatest chivalry."
When he came back to London from Corsica in 1901, and was telling us
of the people and the way they clung to old custom and ceremonial,
he said that he had found "the Roman tradition almost as fine as the
West Point tradition," and this was a concession. We never knew him to
show the least desire to return to Lowell or Stonington, to Pomfret or
Washington, but he said, "If I ever make the journey to America, I will
go straight to Baltimore, then to West Point, and then sail for England
again." One evening we asked him to meet an officer just from West
Point. His interest could not have been keener, had he left the Academy
the day before. He wanted to know about everything--the buildings, the
life, the discipline. He deplored every innovation, always, above all,
football: West Point to him was in danger when cadets could stoop to
dispute "with college students for a dirty ball kicked round a muddy
field." This was the shadow thrown over his pleasure when he heard of
the pride the Academy took in claiming him, of his reputation there,
of his drawings hanging in places of honour. It was the military side
of the Academy, however, that stirred him to enthusiasm. His face
fell when, asking the officer, who, like Major Whistler, was in the
artillery, "Professor of Tactics, I suppose?" the officer answered,
"No, of French." He showed his affection for the Military Academy by
sending to the library a copy of _Whistler_ v. _Ruskin: Art and Art
Critics_, with autograph notes and on the title-page the inscription:
"From an old cadet whose pride it is to remember his West Point days."
This is signed with the butterfly, and newspaper cuttings about the
trial are pasted at the end of the book. The authorities at West Point
have honoured him by placing a memorial tablet, one of St. Gaudens'
last works, in the library of the Academy, and at the suggestion of the
late Major Zalinski, a number of American artists have given a series
of works to the Academy in his honour. In this collection Whistler
alone is not represented, we believe.
But it needs more than respect and love for the Military Academy to
make a soldier, and Whistler, like Poe before him, was an alien at
West Point. It was no question of the number of his demerits, or of
his ignorance of chemistry and history; he had something else to do in
life.
CHAPTER V: THE COAST SURVEY. THE YEARS EIGHTEEN FIFTY-FOUR AND EIGHTEEN
FIFTY-FIVE.
When Whistler left West Point in 1854 he had not only to face the
disappointment of his mother, but to find another career. The plan
now was to apprentice him to Mr. Winans, in the locomotive works at
Baltimore.
Mr. Frederick B. Miles writes us: "It was in 1854 that I first met
Whistler in Baltimore, after he left West Point, at the house of Thomas
Winans, who had returned from Russia. I was apprenticed to the loco.
works of old Mr. Ross Winans, Thomas Winans' father. His elder brother,
George Whistler, was a friend of my family; had been superintendent of
the New York and New Haven Railroad, and had married Miss Julia Winans,
sister of Thomas Winans, then came into the loco. works as partner and
superintendent. I was in the drawing-room under him.
"Whistler was staying with Tom Winans or his brother, George Whistler.
They were perplexed at his 'flightiness'--wanted him to enter the loco.
works. His younger brother William was an apprentice along with me.
But Jem never really worked. He spent much of his several short stays
and two long ones in Baltimore loitering about the drawing-office and
shops, and at my drawing-desk in Tom Winans' house. We all had boards
with paper, carefully stretched, which Jem would cover with sketches,
to our great disgust, obliging us to stretch fresh ones, but we loved
him all the same. He would also ruin all our best pencils, sketching
not only on the paper, but also on the smoothly finished wooden backs
of the drawing-boards, which, I think, he preferred to the paper
side. We kept some of the sketches for a long time. I had a beauty--a
cavalier in a dungeon cell, with one small window high up. In all his
work at that time he was very Rembrandtesque, but, of course, only
amateurish. Nevertheless he was studying and working out effects."
Whistler saw enough of the locomotive works to know that he did not
want to be an apprentice, and it was not long before he left Baltimore
for Washington. To us he spoke as if he had gone to Washington straight
from West Point. He was with us on the evening of September 15, 1900,
after the news had come from the Transvaal of President Kruger's
flight, and our talking of it led him back to West Point, and so to the
story of his days in the service of the Government. He followed the
Boer War with intense interest:
"The Boers are as fine as the Southerners--their fighting would be no
discredit to West Point," and he was indignant with us for looking
upon Kruger's flight as diplomatically a blunder. "Diplomatically it
was right, you know, the one thing Kruger should have done, just as,
in that other amazing campaign, flight had been the one thing for
Jefferson Davis, a Southern gentleman who had the code. I shall always
remember the courtesy shown me by Jefferson Davis, through whom I got
my appointment in the Coast Survey.
"It was after my little difference with the Professor of Chemistry at
West Point. The Professor would not agree with me that silicon was a
gas, but declared it was a metal; and as we could come to no agreement
in the matter, it was suggested--all in the most courteous and correct
West Point way--that perhaps I had better leave the Academy. Well,
you know, it was not a moment for the return of the prodigal to his
family or for any slaying of fatted calves. I had to work, and I went
to Washington. There I called at once on Jefferson Davis, who was
Secretary of War--a West Point man like myself. He was most charming,
and I--well, from my Russian cradle, I had an idea of things, and the
interview was in every way correct, conducted on both sides with the
utmost dignity and elegance. I explained my unfortunate difference with
the Professor of Chemistry--represented that the question was one of no
vital importance, while on all really important questions I had carried
off more than the necessary marks. My explanation made, I suggested
that I should be reinstated at West Point, in which case, as far as I
was concerned, silicon should remain a metal. The Secretary, courteous
to the end, promised to consider the matter, and named a day for a
second interview.
"Before I went back to the Secretary of War, I called on the Secretary
of the Navy, also a Southerner, James C. Dobbin, of South Carolina,
suggesting that I should have an appointment in the Navy. The Secretary
objected that I was too young. In the confidence of youth, I said age
should be no objection; I 'could be entered at the Naval Academy, and
the three years at West Point could count at Annapolis.' The Secretary
was interested, for he, too, had a sense of things. He regretted, with
gravity, the impossibility. But something impressed him; for, later,
he reserved one of six appointments he had to make in the marines and
offered it to me. In the meantime, I had returned to the Secretary of
War, who had decided that it was impossible to meet my wishes in the
matter of West Point; West Point discipline had to be observed, and if
one cadet were reinstated, a dozen others who had tumbled out after me
would have to be reinstated too. But if I would call on Captain Benham,
of the Coast Survey, a post might be waiting for me there."
Captain Benham was a friend of his father, and Whistler was engaged in
the drawing division of the United States Coast and Geodetic Survey, at
the salary of a dollar and a half a day. This appointment he received
on November 7, 1854, six months after he had left West Point. There was
nothing to appeal to him in the routine of the office. What he had to
do he did, but with no enthusiasm.
"I was apt to be late, I was so busy socially. I lived in a small room,
but it was amazing how I was asked and went everywhere--to balls, to
the Legations, to all that was going on. Labouchere, an _attaché_ at
the British Legation, has never ceased to talk of me, so gay, and, when
I had not a dress suit, pinning up the tails of my frock-coat, and
turning it into a dress-coat for the occasion. Shocking!"
Mr. Labouchere has told this story in a letter to us: "I did know
Whistler very well in America about fifty years ago. But he was
then a young man at Washington, who--if I remember rightly--had not
been able to pass his examination at West Point and had given no
indication of his future fame. He was rather hard up, I take it, for
I remember that he pinned back the skirt of a frock-coat to make it
pass as a dress-coat at evening parties. Washington was then a small
place compared with what it is now, where everybody--so to say--knew
everybody, and the social parties were of a simple character. This is
really all that I remember of Whistler at that time, except that he was
thought witty and paradoxically amusing!"
But long before something in his dress drew attention to him. Though
he was never seen in the high-standing collar and silk hat of the
time, some remember him in a Scotch cap and a plaid shawl thrown
over his shoulder, then the fashion; others recall a slouch hat and
cloak, his coat, unbuttoned, showing his waistcoat; while traditions
of his social charm come from every side. Adjutant-General Breck is
responsible for the story of Whistler having invited the Russian
Minister--others say the _Chargé d'Affaires_--Edward de Stoeckl, to
dine with him, carrying the Minister off in his own carriage, doing the
marketing by the way, and cooking the dinner before his guest in the
room where he lived. And it has been said that never was the Minister
entertained by so brilliant a host while in Washington.
Mr. John Ross Key, a fellow draughtsman in the Coast Survey, says
that this room was in a house in Thirteenth Street, near Pennsylvania
Avenue, and that Whistler usually dined in a restaurant close by, kept
by a Mr. and Mrs. A. Gautier. According to the late A. Lindenkohl,
another fellow draughtsman, Whistler also lived for a while in a house
at the north-east corner of E. and Twelfth Streets, a two-storey brick
building which has lately been pulled down. He occupied a plainly but
comfortably furnished room, for which he paid ten dollars a month. The
office records show that he worked six and one-half days in January,
and five and three-fourths in February. He usually arrived late, but,
he would say, it was not his fault. "I was not too late; the office
opened too early." Lindenkohl described an effort to reform him:
"Captain Benham took occasion to tell me that he felt great interest in
the young man, not only on account of his talents, but also on account
of his father, and he told me that he would be highly pleased if I
could induce Whistler to be more regular in his attendance. 'Call at
his lodgings on your way to the office,' he said, 'and see if you can't
bring him along.'
"Accordingly, one morning, I called at Whistler's lodgings at half-past
eight. No doubt he felt somewhat astonished, but received me with the
greatest _bonhomie_ invited me to make myself at home, and promised
to make all possible haste to comply with my wishes. Nevertheless he
proceeded with the greatest deliberation to rise from his couch and
put himself into shape for the street and prepare his breakfast, which
consisted of a cup of strong coffee brewed in a steam-tight French
machine, then a novelty, and also insisted upon treating me with a cup.
We made no extra haste on our way to the office, which we reached about
half-past ten--an hour and a half after time. I did not repeat the
experiment."
Lindenkohl said that Whistler spoke of Paris with enthusiasm, that
he sketched sometimes from the office windows, and made studies of
people, taking the greatest interest in the arrangement and folds of
their clothes. Whistler showed him "several examples done with the
brush in sepia, in old French or Spanish styles," whatever this may
mean. Mr. Key describes Whistler as "painfully near-sighted," and
always sketching, even on the walls as he went downstairs. Though
in Washington only a few months, he left the impression of his
indifference to work except in the one form in which work interested
him--his art.
If nothing else were known of this period, it would be memorable for
the technical instruction he received in the Coast Survey. His work
was the drawing and etching of Government topographical plans and
maps, which have to be made with the utmost accuracy and sharpness of
line. His training, therefore, was in the hardest and most perfect
school of etching in the world, a fact never until now pointed out. The
work was dull, mechanical, and he sometimes relieved the dullness by
filling empty spaces on the plates with sketches. Captain Benham told
him plainly, Whistler said, that he was not there to spoil Government
coppers, and ordered all the designs to be immediately erased. This
was Whistler's account to us. But Mr. Key, in his _Recollections of
Whistler_, published in the _Century Magazine_ (April 1908), says
that these sketches were confined to the experimental plate given to
Whistler, as to all beginners, and he adds that he watched Whistler
through the process of preparing and etching it.
Only two plates have been as yet, or probably ever will be, found in
the office that can be attributed, wholly or in part, to Whistler: the
_Coast Survey, No. 1_, and _Coast Survey, No. 2_, _Anacapa Island_,
first described in the _Catalogue of the Whistler Memorial Exhibition_
in London, 1905. The _Coast Survey, No. 1_, is a plate giving two
parallel views, one above the other, of the coast-line of a rocky
shore, the lower showing a small town in a deep bay with, below them
both to the extreme left, a profile map. Whistler was unable to confine
himself to the Government requirements. In the lower design, chimneys
are gaily smoking, and on the upper part of the plate several figures,
obviously reminiscent of prints and drawings, are sketched: an old
peasant woman; a man in a tall Italian hat, or, Mr. Key says, Whistler
himself as a Spanish hidalgo; another in a Sicilian bonnet; a mother
and child in an oval, meant for Mrs. Partington and Ike, as Mr. Key
remembers; a battered French soldier; a bearded monk in a cowl. The
drawing is schoolboy-like, though it shows certain observation, but
the biting is remarkable. The little figures are bitten as well and in
the same way as _La Vieille aux Loques_, etched three or four years
afterwards; to look at them is to know that Whistler was a consummate
etcher technically before he left the Coast Survey. There is no advance
in the biting of the French series. So astonishing is this mastery
that, if the technique in some of the French plates were not similar,
one would be tempted to doubt whether Whistler etched those little
figures in Washington, especially as the plate is unsigned. The plate
escaped by chance. Mr. Key, to whom it was given to clean off and use
again, asked to keep it, and it was sold to him for the price of old
copper. It is still in existence.
The second plate, _Anacapa Island_, is signed with several names.
Whistler etched the view of the eastern extremity of the island,
for many lines on the rocky shore resemble the work in the French
series, and also the two flights of birds which, though they enliven
the design, have no topographical value. This plate was finished and
published in the Report of the Superintendent of the Coast Survey,
1855. There is said to be a third plate, a chart of the Delaware River,
but we have never seen it and can find out nothing about it.
One other record of Whistler at the Coast Survey remains, but of a
different kind. He liked to tell the story. Captain Benham used to come
and look through the small magnifying glass each draughtsman in this
department had to work with. One day, Whistler etched a little devil on
the glass, and Captain Benham looked through it at the plate. Whistler
described himself to us, lying full length on a sort of mattress or
trestle, so as not to touch the copper. But he saw Captain Benham give
a jump. The captain said nothing. He pocketed the glass, and that
was all Whistler heard of it until many years afterwards, when, one
day, an old gentleman appeared at his studio in Paris, and by way of
introduction took from his watch-chain a tiny magnifying glass, and
asked Whistler to look through it--"and," he said, "well--we recognised
each other perfectly."
Captain Benham is dead, but his son, Major H. H. Benham, writes us: "I
have heard my father tell the story. He was very fond of Whistler, and
thought most highly of his great ability--or rather genius, I should
say."
Genius like Whistler's served him as little at the Coast Survey as at
West Point. He resigned in February 1855. His brother, George Whistler,
and Mr. Winans tried again to make him enter the locomotive works in
Baltimore. He was twenty-one, old enough to insist upon what he wanted;
and what he wanted was to study art. Already at St. Petersburg his
ability had struck his mother's friends. At Pomfret and West Point he
owed to his drawing whatever distinction he had attained. And there had
been things done outside of school and Academy and office work, he told
us--"portraits of my cousin Annie Denny and of Tom Winans, and many
paintings at Stonington that Stonington people remembered so well they
looked me up in Paris afterwards. Indeed, all the while, ever since my
Russian days, there had been always the thought of art, and when at
last I told the family that I was going to Paris, they said nothing.
There was no difficulty. They just got me a ticket. I was to have three
hundred and fifty dollars (seventy pounds) a year, and my stepbrother,
George Whistler, who was one of my guardians, sent it to me after that
every quarter."
CHAPTER VI: STUDENT DAYS IN THE LATIN QUARTER. THE YEARS EIGHTEEN
FIFTY-FIVE TO EIGHTEEN FIFTY-NINE.
Whistler arrived in Paris in the summer of 1855. There he fell among
friends. The American Legation was open to the son of Major Whistler.
It was the year of the first International Exhibition, and Sir Henry
Cole, the British Commissioner, the Thackerays, and the Hadens were
there. Lady Ritchie (Miss Thackeray) writes:
"I wish I had a great deal more to tell you about Whistler. I always
enjoyed talking to him when we were both hobbledehoys at Paris; he
used to ask me to dance, and rather to my disappointment perhaps, for,
much as I liked talking to him, I preferred dancing, we used to stand
out while the rest of the party polkaed and waltzed by There was a
certain definite authority in the things he said, even as a boy. I
can't remember what they were, but I somehow realised that what he said
mattered. When I heard afterwards of his fanciful freaks and quirks, I
could not fit them in with my impression of the wise young oracle of my
own age."
George Whistler wanted him to go to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, but
there is no record of his having been admitted. He went instead to
the studio Gleyre inherited from Delaroche and handed on to Gérôme,
which drew to it all the students who did not crowd to Couture and Ary
Scheffer. It was not extraordinary, as some have said, that Whistler
should have gone there; it would have been extraordinary had he stayed
away. He arrived in Paris when Courbet, slighted at the International,
was defying convention with his first show and his first "Manifesto,"
and many of the younger men were throwing over Romanticism for
Realism. Whistler found himself more in sympathy with the followers
of Courbet than with Gleyre's pupils, and he became so intimate with
the group, among whom were Fantin and Degas, who studied under Lecocq
de Boisbaudran, that it is sometimes thought he must have worked in
that school. But on his arrival in Paris the young American had heard
neither of Lecocq de Boisbaudran nor Courbet, and Gleyre was the
popular teacher. Fantin-Latour and M. Duret both have said that they
seldom heard Whistler speak of Gleyre's. When we asked him about it,
he only recalled the dignified principles upon which it was conducted.
There was not even the case of the _nouveau_ "If a man was a decent
fellow, and would sing his song, and take a little chaff, he had no
trouble." Whistler could remember only one disagreeable incident, in
connection, not with a _nouveau_, but an unpopular student who had been
there some time and put on airs. One morning, Whistler told us, he came
to the studio late, "and there were all the students working away very
hard, the unpopular one among them, and there, at the end of the room,
on the model's stand was an enormous catafalque, the unpopular one's
name on it in big letters. And no one said a word. But that killed him.
He was never again seen in the place."
Gleyre was by no means colourless as a teacher. He is remembered as
the successor of David and the Classicists, but he held theories
disquieting to academic minds. He taught that before a picture was
begun the colours should be arranged on the palette: in this way,
he said, difficulties were overcome, for attention could be given
solely to the drawing and modelling on canvas in colour. He taught
also that ivory-black is the base of tone. Upon this preparation
of the palette and this base of black--upon black, "the universal
harmoniser"--Whistler founded his practice as painter, and as teacher
when he visited the pupils of the _Académie Carmen_.[1] As he has told
us over and over again, his practice of a lifetime was derived from
what he learned in the schools, and the master's methods he never
abandoned. He only developed methods, misunderstood by those British
prophets who have said he had but enough knowledge for his own needs.
Whistler spoke often to us of the men he met at Gleyre's: Poynter,
Du Maurier, Lamont, Joseph Rowley. Leighton, in 1855, was studying
at Couture's, developing his theory that "the best dodge is to be a
devil of a clever fellow," and Mrs. Barrington says he made Whistler's
acquaintance at the time and admired Whistler's etchings. But Whistler
never recalled Leighton among his fellow students, though he spoke
often with affection of Thomas Armstrong, who worked at Ary Scheffer's,
and Aleco Ionides, not an art student but studying, no one seemed to
know what or where. This is the group in Du Maurier's novel of Paris
student life, _Trilby_. It is regrettable that Du Maurier cherished his
petty spite against Whistler for twenty-five years and then printed it,
and so wrecked what Whistler imagined a genuine friendship. Lamont,
"the Laird," Rowley, the "Taffy," Aleco Ionides, "the Greek," and
Thomas Armstrong are dead. Sir Edward J. Poynter remains, and also
Mr. Luke Ionides, who was then often in Paris. He has given us his
impressions of Whistler at the time:
"I first knew Jimmie Whistler in the month of August 1855. My younger
brother was with a tutor, and had made friends with Jimmie. He was
just twenty-one years old, full of life and go, always ready for fun,
good-natured and good-tempered. He wore a peculiar straw hat, slightly
on the side of his head--it had a low crown and a broad brim."
Whistler etched himself in this hat, which startled even artists and
students, and became a legend in the Latin Quarter.
Mr. Rowley wrote us: "It was in 1857-8 that I knew Whistler,
and a most amusing and eccentric fellow he was, with his long, black,
thick, curly hair, and large felt hat with a broad black ribbon round
it. I remember on the wall of the _atelier_ was a representation of
him, I believe done by Du Maurier, a sketch of him, then a fainter one,
and then merely a note of interrogation--very clever it was and very
like the original. In those days he did not work hard, and I have a
faint recollection of seeing a head painted by him in deep Rembrandtish
tones which was thought very good indeed. He was always smoking
cigarettes, which he made himself, and his droll sayings caused us no
end of fun. I don't think he stayed long in any rooms. One day he told
us he had taken a new one, and he was fitting it up _peu à peu_ and he
had already got a _tabouret_ and a chair. He told me tales of being
invited to a reception at the American Minister's, but, as he had no
dress suit to go in, he had to borrow Poynter's, who fitted him out,
all except his boots. So he waited until the guests at the hotel had
retired, when he went round the corridors, found what he wanted, and
left them at the door on his return. It was more his manner and the
clever way he told the tale that amused us.... I have his first twelve
etchings, which he did in 1858. I never saw him after I left Paris that
year. He was never a friend of mine, and it was only occasionally he
came to see us at the _atelier_ in Notre-Dame-des-Champs."
Whistler was intimate for awhile with Sir Edward J. Poynter, who
scarcely seems to have understood him. To Poynter Whistler was the
"Idle Apprentice." In his speech at the first Royal Academy Banquet
(April 30, 1904) after Whistler's death, Poynter said: "Thrown very
intimately in Whistler's company in early days, I knew him well when he
was a student in Paris--that is, if he could be called a student, who,
to my knowledge, during the two or three years when I was associated
with him, devoted hardly as many weeks to study. His genius, however,
found its way in spite of an excess of the natural indolence of
disposition and love of pleasure of which a certain share has been the
hereditary attribute of the art student." And this bit of insolence was
the final tribute to his memory paid by British Official Art.
"Whistler was never wholly one of us," Armstrong told us. Whistler
laughed at the Englishmen and their ways, above all at the boxing and
sparring matches in their studios; "he could not see why they didn't
hire the _concierges_ to do their fighting for them." But he understood
the French, and they understood him. He could speak their language, he
knew Murger by heart before he came to Paris, and there got to know
him personally. Mr. Ionides says that once, on the _rive gauche_, they
met Murger, and Whistler introduced him. Whistler delighted in the
humour and picturesqueness of it, and was always quoting Murger. The
Englishmen at Gleyre's were puzzled by him and his "no shirt friends"
as he called one group of students. Every now and then they palled,
even on him, and he would then tell the Englishmen that he "must give
up the 'no shirt' set and begin to live cleanly." The end came when,
during an absence from Paris, he lent them his room, luxurious from
the student standpoint, with a tin bath and blue china. The "no shirt
friends" could not change their habits with their surroundings. They
made grogs in the bath; they never washed a plate, but when one side
was dirty, ate off the other, and Whistler had not bargained to make
his room the background for a new chapter in the _Vie de Bohèm_. But
this was later, after his adventures with them had been the gossip
of the Quarter, and had confirmed the diligent English in their
impressions of his idleness.
Among the French he made friends: Aubert, the first man he knew in
Paris, a clerk in the Crédit Fonder; Fantin; Legros; Becquet, a
musician; Henri Martin, son of the historian; Drouet, the sculptor;
Henry Oulevey and Ernest Delannoy, painters. From Fantin we have
notes made just before his death. Legros prefers to remember nothing,
the friendship in his case ending many years ago. Drouet and Oulevey
have told us almost as much as Whistler did of those days. When
Oulevey first knew him, Whistler lived in a little hotel in the Rue
St. Sulpice; then he moved to No. 1 Rue Bourbon-le-Château, near St.
Germain-des-Prés; and then to No. 3 Rue Campagne-Première, where Drouet
had a studio. When remittances ran out, he climbed six flights and
shared a garret with Delannoy, the Ernest of the stories Whistler liked
best to tell.
Mr. Miles writes us that he came to Paris in May 1857, with letters
from Whistler's family and a draft for him: "At the Beaux-Arts he was
not to be found, but I got his address. He had gone from that. I was
in despair, but went to the Luxembourg, hoping to find some trace of
him. In looking at a picture, I backed into an easel, heard a muttered
damn behind me--and there was Whistler painting busily. He took me
to his quarters in a little back street, up ten flights of stairs--a
tiny room with a brick floor, a cot bed, a chair on which were a
basin and pitcher--and that was all! We sat on the cot and talked as
cheerfully as if in a palace--and he got the draft. 'Now,' said he,
'I shall move downstairs, and begin all over again--furnish my room
comfortably. You see, I have just eaten my washstand and borrowed a
little, hoping the draft would arrive. Have been living for some time
on my wardrobe. You are just in time; don't know what I should have
done, but it often happens this way! I first eat a wardrobe, and then
move upstairs a flight or two, but seldom get so high as this before
the draft comes!' How true this is I can't say, but it sounds probable
and very like Whistler at that age--he was then about twenty-three or
just twenty-four at most--May 1857. Then Whistler showed me Paris: I
met some of his painter friends. I remember only Lambert (French) and
Poynter (English)--now a great swell. Whistler didn't care much for
Poynter at that time, but was witty and amusing, as usual. He dined
with me at the best restaurant in Paris, which he had not done for a
long time, and dined me, the next day, at a little _crémerie_ to show
what his usual fare had been, and, indeed, usually was when the time
was approaching for the arrival of his allowance."
The restaurant to which Whistler and his friends usually went was
Lalouette's, famous for a wonderful Burgundy at one franc the bottle,
_le cachet vert_, ordered on great occasions, and more famous now
for _Bibi Lalouette_, the subject of the etching, the child of the
_patron_. Lalouette, like Siron at Barbizon, understood artists,
and gave credit. Whistler, when he left Paris, owed Lalouette three
thousand francs, every _sou_ of which was paid, though it took a long
time. Today, unfortunately, such debts are not always discharged, and
the charming system of other days exists no longer. They also dined
at Madame Bachimont's in the Place de la Sorbonne, a _crémerie_,
where Whistler once gave a dinner to the American Consul, and invited
"_Canichon_," the daughter of the house, and bought her a new hat for
the occasion--a tremendous sensation through the Quarter.
Drouet did not think that Whistler worked much. "He was every evening
at the students' balls, and never got up until eleven or twelve in the
morning, so where was the time for work?" Oulevey cannot remember his
doing much at Gleyre's, or in the Luxembourg, or at the Louvre, but he
was always drawing the people and the scenes of the Quarter. In the
memory of both his work is overshadowed by his gaiety and his wit, his
_blague_, his charm: "_tout à fait un homme à part_," is Oulevey's
phrase, with "_un coeur de femme et une volonté d'homme_." Anything
might be expected of him, and Drouet added that he was quick to resent
an insult, always "_un petit rageur_." George Boughton, of a younger
generation, when he came to the Quarter, found that all stories of
larks were put down to Whistler. Mr. Luke Ionides writes:
"He was a great favourite among us all, and also among the _grisettes_
we used to meet at the gardens where dancing went on. I remember one
especially--they called her the _Tigresse_. She seemed madly in love
with Jimmie and would not allow any other woman to talk to him when
she was present. She sat to him several times with her curly hair down
her back. She had a good voice, and I often thought she had suggested
Trilby to Du Maurier."
She was the model for _Fumette_, Eloise, a little _modiste_, who knew
Musset by heart and recited his verses to Whistler, and who one day
in a rage tore up, not his etchings as Mr. Wedmore says, as often,
wrongly, but his drawings. Whistler was living in the Rue St. Sulpice,
and the day he came home and found the pieces piled high on the table
he wept.
Another figure was _La Mère Gérard_. She was old and almost blind,
was said to have written verse, and so come down in the world. She
sold violets and matches at the gate of the Luxembourg. She was very
paintable as she sat huddled up on the steps, and he got her to pose
for him many times. She said she had a tapeworm, and if in the studio
he asked her what she would eat or drink, her answer was, "_Du lait:
il aimé ça!_" They used to chaff him about her in the Quarter. Once,
Lalouette invited all his clients to spend a day in the country, and
Whistler accepted on condition that he could bring _La Mère Gérard_.
She arrived, got up in style, sat at his side in the carriage in which
they all drove off, and grew livelier as the day went on. He painted
her in the afternoon: the portrait a success, he promised it to her,
but first took it back to the studio to finish. Then he fell ill and
was sent to England. When he returned and saw the portrait again, he
thought it too good for _La Mère Gérard_. He made a copy for the old
lady, who saw the difference and was furious. Not long after he was
walking past the Luxembourg with Lamont. The old woman, huddled on the
steps, did not look up:
"_Eh bien, Madame Gérard, comment ça va?_" Lamont asked.
"_Assez bien, Monsieur, assez bien._"
"_It votre petit Américain?_"
To which she replied, not looking up, "_Lui? On dit qu'il a craqué!
Encore une espèce de canaille de moins!_"
And Whistler laughed, and she knew him, as so many were to know him, by
that laugh all his life.
For ages after, in the Quarter, he was called "_Espèce de canaille_."
And this is where Du Maurier got the story which he tells in
_Trilby_--as he got all _Trilby_, in fact.
Another character in the Quarter of whom Whistler never tired of
telling us was the Count de Montezuma, the delightful, inimitable,
impossible, incredible Montezuma, not a student, not a painter, but one
after Whistler's heart. He never had a _sou_, but always cheek enough
to see him through. Whistler told us of him:
"This is the sort of thing he would do, and with an air--amazing! He
started one day for Charenton on the steamboat, his pockets, as usual,
empty, and he was there for as long as he could stay. The boat broke
down, a _sergent de ville_ came on board and ordered everybody off
except the captain and his family, who happened to be with him. The
Montezuma paid no attention. With arms crossed, he walked up and down,
looking at no one. They waited, but he walked on, up and down, up and
down, looking at no one. The _sergent de ville_ repeated, '_Tout le
monde à terre!_' The Montezuma gave no sign. '_Et vous?_' the _sergent
de ville_ asked at last. '_Je suis de la famille!_' said the Montezuma.
Opposite, staring at him, stood the captain with his wife and children.
'You see,' said the _sergent de ville_, 'the captain does not know
you, he says you are not of the family. You must go.' '_Moi,_' and the
Montezuma drew himself up proudly, '_Moi! je suis le bâtard!_'"
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF WHISTLER
ETCHING. G. 54
(_See page 50_)]
[Illustration: SKETCHES OF THE JOURNEY TO ALSACE
PEN DRAWINGS
(_See page 44_)]
Though he was frequently hard up, Whistler's income seemed princely to
students who lived on nothing. When there was money in his pockets,
Mr. Ionides says, he spent it royally on others. When his pockets
were empty, he managed to refill them in a way that still amazes
Oulevey, who told us of the night when, after the _café_ where they had
squandered their last _sous_ on kirsch had closed, he and Lambert and
Whistler adjourned to the Halles for supper, ordered the best, and ate
it. Then he and Lambert stayed in the restaurant as hostages, while
Whistler, at dawn, went off to find the money. He was back when they
awoke, with three or four hundred francs in his pocket. He had been to
see an American friend, he said, a painter: "And do you know, he had
the bad manners to abuse the situation; he insisted on my looking at
his pictures!"
There were times when everybody failed, even Mr. Lucas, George
Whistler's friend, who was living in Paris and often came to his
rescue. One summer day he pawned his coat when he was penniless and
wanted an iced drink in a _buvette_ across the way from his rooms in
Rue Bourbon-le-Château. "What would you?" he said. "It is warm!" And
for the next two or three days he went in shirt-sleeves. From Mr.
Ionides we have heard how Whistler and Ernest Delannoy carried their
straw mattresses to the nearest _Mont-de-Piété_, stumbling up three
flights of stairs under them, and were refused an advance by the man at
the window. "_C'est bien_," said Ernest with his grandest air. "_C'est
bien. J'enverrai un commissionnaire!_" And they dropped the mattresses
and walked out with difficulty, to go bedless home. Then there was a
bootmaker to whom Whistler owed money, and who appeared with his bill,
refusing to move unless he was paid. Whistler was courtesy itself, and,
regretting his momentary embarrassment, begged the bootmaker to accept
an engraving of Garibaldi, which he ventured to admire. The bootmaker
was so charmed that he spoke no more of his bill, but took another
order on the spot, and made new shoes into the bargain.
Many of the things told of Whistler he used to tell us of Ernest or
the others. Ernest he said it was, though some say it was Whistler,
who had a commission to copy in the Louvre, but no canvas, paints, or
brushes, and not a _sou_ to buy them with. However, he went to the
gallery in the morning, the first to arrive, and his businesslike air
disarmed the _gardien_ as he picked out an easel, a clean canvas, a
palette, a brush or two, and a stick of charcoal. He wrote his name in
large letters on the back of the canvas, and, when the others began to
drop in, was too busy to see anything but his work. Presently there
was a row. What! an easel missing, a canvas gone, brushes not to be
found! The _gardien_ bustled round. Everybody talked at once. Ernest
looked up in a fury--shameful! Why should he be disturbed? What was it
all about, anyhow? When he heard what had happened no one was louder.
It had come to a pretty pass in the Louvre when you couldn't leave
your belongings overnight without having them stolen! Things at last
quieted down. Ernest finished his charcoal sketch, but his palette was
bare. He stretched, jumped down from his high stool, strolled about,
stopped to criticise here, to praise there, until he saw the colours he
needed. The copy of the man who owned them ravished him. Astonishing!
He stepped back to see it better. He advanced to look at the original,
he grew excited, he gesticulated. The man, who had never been noticed
before, grew excited too. Ernest talked the faster, gesticulated the
more, until down came his thumb on the white or the blue or the red he
wanted, and, with another sweep of his arm, a lump of it was on his
palette. Farther on another supply offered. In the end, his palette
well set, he went back to his easel, painting his copy. In some way he
had supplied himself most plentifully with "turps," so that several
times the picture was in danger of running off his canvas. At last it
was finished and shown to his patron, who refused to have it. Whistler
succeeded in selling it for Ernest to a dealer; and, "Do you know," he
said, "I saw the picture years afterwards, and I think it was rather
better than the original!" Oulevey's version is that Whistler helped
himself to a box of colours, and, when discovered by its owner, was all
innocence and surprise and apology: why, he supposed, of course, the
boxes of colour were there for the benefit of students.
On another occasion, when Ernest, according to Whistler, had finished
a large copy of Veronese's _Marriage Feast at Cana_, he and a friend,
carrying it between them, started out to find a buyer. They crossed
the Seine and offered it for five hundred francs to the big dealers on
the right bank. Then they offered it for two hundred and fifty to the
little dealers on the left. Then they went back and offered it for
one hundred and twenty-five. Then they came across and offered it for
seventy-five. And back again for twenty-five, and over once more for
ten. And they were crossing still again, to try to get rid of it for
five, when, on the Pont des Arts, an idea: they lifted it; "_Un_," they
said with a great swing, "_deux, trois, v'lan!_" and over it went into
the river. There was a cry from the crowd, a rush to their side of the
bridge, _sergents de ville_ came running, omnibuses and cabs stopped on
both banks, boats pushed out. It was an immense success, and they went
home enchanted.
Ernest was Whistler's companion in the most wonderful adventure of all,
the journey to Alsace when most of the French Set of etchings were
made. Mr. Luke Ionides thinks it was in 1856. Fantin, who did not meet
Whistler until 1858, remembered him just back from a journey to the
Rhine, coming to the _Café Molière_, and showing the etchings made on
the way. The French Set was published in November of that year, and
if Whistler returned late in the autumn, the series could scarcely
have appeared so soon. However, more important than the date is the
fact that on his journey the _Liverdun_, the _Street at Saverne_, and
_The Kitchen_ were etched. He had made somehow two hundred and fifty
francs, and he and Ernest started out for Nancy and Strasburg. Mr. Leon
Dabo tells us that his father was a fellow student of Whistler's at
Gleyre's and lived at Saverne, in Alsace, and that it was to see him
Whistler went there. And from Mr. Dabo we have the story of excursions
that Whistler and Ernest made with his father and several friends:
one to the ruins of the castle near the village of Dabo, where it is
said their signatures may still be seen on a rock of brown sandstone;
another to Gross Geroldseck, and the sketches Whistler made there were
afterwards presented to the Saverne Museum. It may be that a third
excursion was to Pfalzburg, the birthplace of Erckmann and Chatrian,
whom Whistler knew and possibly then met for the first time.
On the way back, at Cologne, one morning, Whistler and Ernest woke up
to find their money gone. "What is to be done?" asked Ernest. "Order
breakfast," said Whistler, which they did. There was no American Consul
in the town, and after breakfast he wrote to everybody who might help
him: to a fellow student he had asked to forward letters from Paris,
to Seymour Haden in London, to Amsterdam, where he thought letters
might have been sent by mistake. Then they settled down to wait.
Every day they would go to the post-office for letters, every day the
official would say, "_Nichts! Nichts!_" until they got known to the
town--Whistler with his long hair, Ernest with his brown hollands and
straw hat fearfully out of season. The boys of the town would follow to
the post-office, where, before they were at the door, the official was
shaking his head and saying "_Nichts! Nichts!_" and all the crowd would
yell, "_Nichts! Nichts!_" At last, to escape attention, they spent
their days sitting on the ramparts.
At the end of a fortnight Whistler took his knapsack, put his plates
in it, and carried it to the landlord, Herr Schmitz, whose daughter,
Little Gretchen he had etched--probably the plate called _Gretchen at
Heidelberg_. He said he was penniless, but here were his copper-plates
in his knapsack upon which he would set his seal. What was to be done
with copper-plates? the landlord asked. They were to be kept with the
greatest care as the work of a distinguished artist, Whistler answered,
and when he was back in Paris, he would send the money to pay his
bill, and then the landlord would send him the knapsack. Herr Schmitz
hesitated, while Whistler and Ernest were in despair over the necessity
of trusting masterpieces to him. The bargain was struck after much
talk. The landlord gave them a last breakfast. Lina, the maid, slipped
her last groschen into Whistler's hand, and the two set out to walk
from Cologne to Paris with paper and pencils for baggage.