The Value of Gold and Silver in Whistlerian Aesthetics     ^

Whistler’s correspondence, as published online by the University of Glasgow, provides data and tools for exploring many aspects of the Aesthetic Movement and 19th century art and culture. 1 However, a Free-text search of the 10,000 letters in the correspondence reveals that words like ‘aesthetic’ or a phrase like ‘Art for Art’s Sake’ figure startlingly little, whereas less abstract searches can be immensely productive. For example, ‘gold’ (as well as golden and gilding) comes up over 1200 times and ‘silver’ over 600. This might suggest that gold was more important to Whistler than aesthetics, but this interpretation deserves further analysis. A discussion of the words ‘gold’ and ‘silver’ as used by Whistler provides insights into certain ideas underlying his work and designs.

Money and morals     ^

Firstly, ‘gold’ can be the pure metal, untarnished, everlasting; it can also be honours (medals); and it is associated with morality, purity, beauty, and, conversely, with decadence and riches.

From his earliest days, Whistler was well versed in the bible, sometimes reflecting, and sometimes rejecting his mother’s Christian precepts. Anna Whistler’s letters contain frequent references to wealth, and the need to endure privations for one’s spiritual benefit. As she said, paraphrasing Proverbs 17.3, ‘the trial of our faith, … must be as gold in the crucible.’ 2 When she herself was nearly bankrupt, Anna wrote with conspicuous virtue to her son about the wealthy locomotive manufacturer Ross Winans: ‘You know I crave not any mans silver or gold, the gain of honest industry is satisfying.’ 3 Whistler meanwhile craved the family gold, and accepted the Winans’s generous patronage. However, his puritanical background may account for Whistler’s occasional guilt-feelings and suppression of the idea that he would have liked to make a lot of money.

His biblical upbringing may also explain why silver occasionally had negativeh064 associations for him. For instance, Whistler bitterly accused former friends – such as the art critic Theodore Child or the artist Walter Sickert – of betrayal, and likened them to Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus for ‘30 pieces of silver’ (Mark 14.43-6). 4

In a personal letter from Whistler’s mother to her sister she stated that ‘Jemie had no nervous fears in painting his Mothers portrait for it was to please himself & not to be paid for in other coin.’ 5 It is true that when he sold this particular painting in 1891, he was more interested in lasting fame than immediate money, but all the same, he was well aware of the prestige of having a picture in the Luxembourg, and of the increased prices that he could demand afterwards. One might almost say that Whistler was obsessed with gold, and only where that was unavailable, with silver. Shillings came into their own because when added to pounds sterling they became, theoretically ‘golden guineas’, and it was in guineas that Whistler demanded payment. Not only did this mean that any unsuspecting dealers and patrons who had not noticed the small print on his invoices had to pay more for his work, but also, guineas were the mark of a gentleman, whereas workmen and tradesmen were paid in pounds sterling. Whistler was thus asserting his superiority in a hierarchy that put workers at the bottom, craftsmen in the middle and artists at the top.

Gold was in any case the universal currency, the standard by which other currencies were tested, and, metaphorically, a standard of perfection. Gold as a symbol of honour and prestige was something Whistler valued almost as highly as money, both as an signifier of esteem and the guarantee to others of the quality of his work. His first gold medal was awarded for his Thames etchings in Amsterdam in 1863. His mother wrote, ‘The inscription too on the massive gold medal with James Whistlers name in full, how encouraging!’ 6 It reassured friends and patrons, and perhaps herself, that the artist was not totally wasting his time. Later Whistler assiduously worked and schemed to gain gold medals in international exhibitions, rejoicing immoderately when awarded the highest honours in Philadelphia and Paris and elsewhere. He did not accept lesser honours gracefully, and when he was awarded only ‘a gold medal, second class’ in Munich he thanked them ironically with ‘moderate and seemly joy’. 7

Gold was decorative, lustrous, indicative and descriptive of beauty. Whistler associated it with the beauty of his model Joanna Hiffernan, whom he described to Fantin-Latour: ‘She has the most beautiful hair that you have ever seen! a red not golden but copper - as Venetian as a dream! – skin yellow white or golden if you will.’ 8 Here he compared gold as a colour with the redder gold of copper, and her skin with the palest of yellow gold. He was aware of the limitations of language in describing colour, and for certain subtle distinctions, he used gold (which has lustre as well as colour) to modify his description. This was, necessarily, a subjective rather than a precise distinction.

At the same time, Whistler relished the thought of receiving actual gold for his work. For instance, for his first major portrait of Jo Hiffernan, 'The White Girl', he wrote to Frederick Sandys: ‘You will perhaps be pleased to hear that the "White Girl" is a real success in Paris - and already I have had a letter to know if it may be possessed for gold!’ 9 At the same time, he jealously guarded his real-life golden model from Sandys, as if she was herself a valuable commodity, although he qualified his refusal, adding, ‘if ever I lent her to anyone to paint, it should certainly be to you’. While not prepared to share his muse, Whistler was keen that his friends should benefit from the wealth of London collectors: ‘there is gold waiting for us everywhere’ he wrote, urging Henri Fantin-Latour to join him in London, with promises of gold and banknotes and (secondarily) opportunities to discuss Rembrandt. 10

Material success was essential to Whistler and he reassured family, art dealers and collectors that his oils and etchings were good investments. The etchings brought in medals and money and the promise of future riches. He assured the art dealer George Lucas, ‘I am about entering into some agreement with Colnaghi the publisher concerning ten of my etchings, which if satisfied will bring me in a pot of gold!’ 11 Not only would the etchings, when published (and they were not actually published until 1871) bring in ‘gold’ but the original copperplates on which Whistler etched blazed coppery gold in the light. He used ‘gold’ as a visual pun and metaphor, to link the base metal, copper, with gold in talking about his copperplates. In 1876, planning to print his old copperplates, he wrote, ‘a printing press has been lent to me and soon I trust I shall turn some copper into gold!' 12

Three years later, after his bankruptcy, the Fine Art Society financed an etching expedition to Venice. Again, this was primarily a commercial venture. Venice inspired what Whistler described as ‘lovely work of the most fascinating - with every possible joy thereto attached - golden guineas among others.' 13 His letters home continually reinforced the message that his works would bring in ‘gold’, that is, serious money. It is no coincidence that ‘gold’ as a word and colour became an important element in presenting his works and adding value to them in the eyes of the beholder.

Value added titles     ^

The first painting exhibited by Whistler with a gold subject and title was at the Royal Academy in 1865. It was shown as ‘The golden screen’, which was obviously a descriptive title: the actual screen was depicted in muted shades of ochre and yellow, and the elaborate frame of the painting was gilded. Years later, Whistler commented on how difficult the painting was to reproduce; he complained that photographic reproductions looked like ‘gold tipped Colorados’ in a ‘case of Cuban cigars!’ 14 The painting was exhibited at the Society of French Artists in 1873 as ‘The golden screen – Harmony in purple and gold’ (that is, the descriptive title was reinforced with the value-added title of ‘gold’, and with increased emphasis on the aesthetic and abstract values of both music and colour). Finally, in 1892 it was exhibited with the more confrontational title Caprice in Purple and Gold: The Golden Screen (1864, Freer Gallery of Art, YMSM 60). ‘Caprice’ was a title rarely used by Whistler and it rather irritated his critics. An art critic later commented ona Caprice in Red that there was 'nothing capricious, unless it be the price.’ 15

Such title changes may reflect a change of attitude by Whistler to the naming of his works: he may have intended to challenge or mock the viewer, rather than help.

Whistler commented publicly on his titles in an important and well-known statement published in the World in 1878, under the title the ‘Red Rag’. He singled out for comment one painting, Nocturne: Grey and Gold – Chelsea Snow (1876, Fogg Art Museum, Harvard University; YMSM 174), then on exhibition at the Grosvenor Gallery.

Why should not I call my works "symphonies," "arrangements," "harmonies," and "nocturnes"? I know that many good people think my nomenclature funny … The vast majority of English folk cannot and will not consider a picture as a picture, apart from any story that it may be supposed to tell. My picture of a "Harmony in Grey and Gold" is an illustration of my meaning – …. I care nothing for the past, present, or future of the black figure, placed there because the black was wanted at that spot. All that I know is that my combination of grey and gold is the basis of the picture. Now this is precisely what my friends cannot grasp.

They say, "Why not call it 'Trotty Veck,' and sell it for a round harmony of golden guineas?" - naïvely acknowledging that, without baptism, there is no ... market!

As music is the poetry of sound, so is painting the poetry of sight, and the subject - matter has nothing to do with harmony of sound or of colour.' 16

Whistler’s aesthetic beliefs, as stated here so persuasively, were not entirely born out by his artistic practise, as was pointed out by Swinburne several years later. 17 However, the title is worthy of investigation: the painting was first, in 1878, called Nocturne in Grey and Gold, but as it was exhibited over the years it was given increasingly descriptive titles, emphasizing additional layers of meaning. It was shown in Paris and London in 1892 as Nocturne, Grey and Gold – Chelsea Snow. Thus the title incorporated a musical term (Nocturne) that also set it at a particular time (night); it specified a dominant colour (grey), which was complemented by a precious metal (gold); it defined a precise locality (Chelsea) and a weather report (Snow). Finally, by the time Whistler re-acquired it and sold it to the Edinburgh collector J. J. Cowan in 1898, the title was reversed, with space and time preceding colour values; Whistler’s receipt specified the title as ‘Chelsea Nocturne – Gold & Grey’. 18

The price at the time was £400, which was fairly modest; the inclusion of ‘gold’ or ‘silver’ did not necessarily mean that Whistler got better prices for his works, but it may have helped him to sell them at all. They were shown in a co-ordinated setting, in subtly tinted gold frames, like jewellery. The emphasis on gold and silver (not tin, brass, copper, or any base metal) added a higher notional value to the work, by the mere association of words. Literary or poetic associations that might give the work additional appeal to a rich and cultured audience were reinforced by some element of actual colour in the work itself.

The ‘gold’ in Nocturne, Grey and Gold – Chelsea Snow is clearly the lighted window, and the frame echoed this with real gilding. The title as it developed suggests an increasing interest by Whistler in the actual locality of the work. However, other titles change radically, as if the artist saw them afresh, or possibly, and literally, in a different light.

Title changes may reflect Whistler’s changing response to the picture or to its marketing potential, but sometimes it may have been a response to colour changes over the 20 or 30 year history of the work, as varnish yellowed, and as the picture darkened or when it was cleaned. A picture exhibited in Brighton in 1875 as ‘Nocturne in blue and silver’ became a ‘Nocturne in blue and gold: Valparaiso Bay’ (1866 et seq., Freer Gallery of Art; YMSM 76) in 1887. The darkening and yellowing of varnish could well explain this change. Indeed, contemporary descriptions suggest that it has darkened. Whistler apparently liked certain effects of ageing – he wrote to J. J. Cowan that the painting was ‘very beautiful certainly – but so they all are in time!’ The odd thing is that over time, the title of this picture kept switching back and forth between silver and gold, as if Whistler was not quite sure with which precious metal it should be associated.

He believed that his titles were his own property, expressing something new and original in his aesthetic credo. If he disliked artists, he would mock their use of similar titles, 19 but if he liked artists (as with the Greaves brothers) then he did not mind their appropriation of Whistlerian titles. Walter Greaves, his pupil and assistant, undoubtedly imitated Whistler’s subjects and compositions – and in the early 1870s he was intimately involved in Whistler’s work and presentation of his work. Indeed, in 1871, Whistler wrote to Greaves asking him to check on the framing of his ‘harmonies’ at the Dudley Gallery: ‘Have they managed to fit in the little gold flat … ? Does it look all right? They have not taken off too much of the butterfly have they?’ 20

Whistler’s exhibits were Variations in Violet and Green (1871, Musee d’Orsay, Paris; YMSM 104) and Nocturne: Blue and Silver – Chelsea (1871, Tate Britain; YMSM 103), the latter then entitled 'Harmony in Blue-green'. The frame was made by Foord & Dickinson of Wardour Street, and decorated, probably by Whistler, with wave/scale patterns and his butterfly monogram. In the Times, Tom Taylor commented, 'The colour, consistently with the theory of the painter, is carried out into the frames by means of delicate diaperings and ripplings of faint greens and moony blues on their gold.' 21