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Philip Gilbert Hamerton

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So the question remained open.

Gilbert, thinking it desirable to give his guests a more extensive
acquaintance with the surrounding country than his boats could afford,
proposed to take a carriage, which would be ferried from Port Sonachan
to the other side of the lake, after which we might drive as much as
possible along the shores till we reached Ardhonnel Castle. If we
arrived early we would visit the ruins and the island; if too late, it
would be reserved for the following morning, as we intended to spend the
night at the inn, and to resume our drive in time to be back at
Innistrynich for dinner.

We started merrily,--Aunt Mary, Anne Hamerton, M. Souverain, my
husband, myself, and baby; for our guests kindly insisted upon my being
one of the party, in spite of my small encumbrance, which I could not
leave behind. I did my best to be excused, but they were unanimous in
declaring that they would not go if I stayed.

"You need not walk unless you like," they said, "for there will always
be the carriage, the boat, or the inn for you."

It was a splendid day of bright sunshine in a tenderly blue sky, with a
pure, soft breeze hardly rippling the lake. We all took our seats inside
the roomy, open carriage, my husband leaving the management of the
horses to the driver that he might be free to enjoy the scenery. M.
Souverain remarked that if the Highlanders were a strong race, their
horses hardly deserved the same epithet; and indeed the pair harnessed
to our carriage appeared very lean and somewhat shaky, but the driver
affirmed that they were capital for hill-work, though he would not swear
to their swiftness, and as we did not want to go fast, it was again "all
right" from M. Souverain when the explanation had been translated to
him.

Fast we certainly did not go, and, moreover, we often stopped to admire
the changing views, but the poor starved beasts did not pick up any more
spirit during their frequent rests; they painfully resumed their dull
jog-trot for a short time, which soon dwindled to slow, weary paces that
even the whip in no way hastened. However, with plenty of time before
us, we only turned it into a joke, pretending to be terrified by the
ardor of our steeds.

My husband had to tell M. Souverain all the legends of the places we
were passing, and as he himself "courtisait la Muse," he listened with
rapt attention, so as to be able to treat the subjects in French verse.
"This country is a mine for a poet!" he frequently exclaimed.

Luckily we had packed some provisions in the carriage, for the sun was
already declining,--like the pace of the horses,--and we were not yet at
the end of the drive by a good distance.

The fresh air had sharpened our appetites, and Gilbert proposed that we
should have something to eat whilst the horses were taken out of harness
and given a feed to refresh them and give them a little more vigor for
the rest of the journey.

By the time we had finished our collation the air had freshened, and it
was twilight; we agreed that now it was desirable to get within shelter
as soon as possible, although the charm of the hour was indescribable;
but the thin white mist was beginning to float over the lake, and the
last remnants of the afterglow had entirely died out. What was our
dismay when we found that all my husband's efforts, joined to those of
the driver, to make the horses get up were ineffectual; there they lay
on the grass, and neither expostulations, pulls, cracks of the whip, or
even kicks, I am sorry to say, seemed to produce the slightest effect
upon their determination to remain stretched at full length on the
ground. What were we to do? The driver vociferated in Gaelic, but the
poor brutes did not mind, and they would have been cruelly maltreated if
we had not interfered to protect them. Gilbert said to the man: "You see
well enough that they have no strength to work, therefore allow them to
rest till they are able to go back. I leave you here, and as I have
ladies with me I must try to find some sort of shelter for the night."
The man was almost frantic when he saw us go, but we all agreed with my
husband, and in the hope of finding a cottage set forth resolutely on
foot.

It was now almost dark, but our spirits were not damped yet, and, as M.
Souverain remarked, it was "une véritable aventure." Still, I was
beginning to find my baby somewhat heavy after walking for
three-quarters of an hour, when the gentlemen in front of us cheerily
encouraged our exertions by calling out, "A cottage, a cottage!" and
when we came up to them they were loudly knocking at the door, unable to
obtain a sign of life from within; however, the smell of burning peat
clearly indicated that the cottage was inhabited, and my husband shouted
our story, begging that the door might be opened and the ladies allowed
to rest. Then on the other side of the door, which remained closed, a
voice answered in Gaelic we knew not what, except that the tone of it
was unmistakably angry, and unbroken silence ensued.

There was nothing left to us but to resume our walk, enlivened by M.
Souverain singing the celebrated song, "Chez les montagnards Écossais
l'hospitalité se donne," etc. Every one in turn offered to hold the
baby; but Aunt Mary, I knew, had enough to do for herself, Anne was not
strong, and my confidence in the fitness of the gentlemen for the
function of nurse was very limited. My husband kept up our courage by
affirming that we were not far from Ardhonnel, and consequently within a
short distance of the inn; indeed, he called us to the side of the road,
from which we could see the noble ruin with our own eyes, now that the
new moon had risen and was peeping between the clouds occasionally. It
was a welcome sight, for by this time we were really weary; but alas!
the inn was on the other side of the lake, and we had no boat; still,
Gilbert felt sure there must be one not very far off, to take the people
across, and after surveying the shore for a while he discovered a little
pier, with a rowing-boat chained to it, and a very small cottage almost
close to where we stood; so he went to knock at the door, and again
Gaelic was given in answer. But this time the door was opened by a woman
who had only taken time to put on a short petticoat, and to throw a
small shawl over her head; her feet, legs, and arms were bare, and she
looked strong and placid; her English was scanty, but she understood
pretty well what we wanted, and declared herself willing to row our
party to the other side if any one could steer, for her "man" was asleep
in bed and too tired for work; so my husband took a pair of oars, the
woman another, and I steered from indications frequently given. At last
we stood in front of the inn, and it was past midnight. Not a light was
visible, not a sound was heard, and there was no sign of life except a
faint blue wreath of peat-smoke; but it was enough to revive our
energies and hopes. In response to our united appeals a dishevelled head
of red hair cautiously looked down from a half-opened window, and our
story had to be told again. Well, this time we were let in and allowed
to sit down, whilst the ostler's wife was being roused as well as the
servant, for we were told that the tourists' season, being already over,
the inn was no longer in trim for customers. This was bad news, for the
good effects of the luncheon had passed off, and as soon as we could
rest and forget our fatigue we became sensible of ravenous hunger. The
good innkeeper and his wife were so obliging and good-hearted that they
kept deprecating the absence of all the comforts they would have liked
to give us. However, my husband had brought a large basket of dry peat,
and M. Souverain heaped it up dexterously, and blew upon what remained
of red ashes under his pile, whilst a kettle was placed upon the glowing
embers. "I am afraid I can't offer you the same cheer that you would
give me at the _maison Dorée_," Gilbert said to his friend. "_Ça serait
gâter la couleur locale_; oh! some bread-and-cheese, with a bottle of
beer, will do very well for me." But there was neither bread nor cheese
nor beer; and no kind of abode, however miserable, had M. Souverain ever
known to be without bread. "What do they live upon then?" he asked.
"Porridge, and they occasionally make scones," was the reply. Luckily
for us there happened to be an ample supply of them, freshly made, and
with these, boiled eggs, and fried bacon, we had one of the best
appreciated meals we ever tasted. It was followed by hot whiskey-toddy
and cigars for the gentlemen, by tea and clotted cream for the ladies,
and for a while we quite revived; but sleep would have its way, and
there being only two beds, occupied by the owners of the inn, they
charitably yielded them to us; and when the sheets had been changed,
Aunt Mary and Anne shared one, whilst I thankfully retired to the other
with baby. The gentlemen remained near the fire in the dining-room, one
of them stretched on the sofa, and the other using its cushions as a
mattress.

On the following morning I learned the meaning of the word "smart" for
the first time, it being so frequently repeated by our good hostess, who
had made room for me by the kitchen fire to dress my child. "How smart
is the sweet baby!" she constantly exclaimed with honest admiration, as
she made him laugh by tickling his little feet or chucking his chin.

Our breakfast was a repetition of the supper in every detail, and our
enjoyment of it more limited. My husband soon went out to hire a boat
and a couple of men to row us back again. They took us first to
Ardhonnel, of which he has given a description in "The Isles of Loch
Awe,"--

"A gray, tall fortress, on a wooded isle,
Not buried, but adorned by foliage."

The day was fine again, and the return home ideal; Gilbert steered and
relieved each rower in turn, while they sang their Scotch melodies with
voices strong and clear, and we all joined in the chorus. When we
reached Port Sonachan we heard that our driver had only arrived towards
mid-day, and that his horses not being strong enough to stop the
carriage on the slope to the ferry, had fallen into the lake, from which
they were rescued with great difficulty. We saw the carriage still
dripping wet, which had been left out to dry, and for the repairs of
which Gilbert later on received a bill that he indignantly refused to
pay.

This "romantic excursion," as M. Souverain called it, had so much
developed his fancy for Loch Awe that, before taking leave of us, he
offered to go halves with my husband in the purchase of Innistrynich;
but there was plenty of time for reflection, as the lease had four years
to run, so no decision was taken then.

A fortnight after the departure of our Parisian guest, Aunt Mary and
Anne left us regretfully,--the former especially, who was going back
reluctantly to the jealous remarks of her sister, and did not feel
disposed to listen patiently to criticisms on her nephew's character and
conduct or on mine. From her letters afterwards she had not a pleasant
time of it, but relieved the painfulness of it as much as possible by
accepting at intervals several invitations from her friends in the
neighborhood. This state of affairs made my husband very miserable, for
he would have done anything to secure his Aunt Mary's happiness and
tranquillity of mind; and to help him in his endeavors, I proposed that
she should come to live with us. This is part of her answer:--

"I hope to return with you in May next. Give my very best love to dear
Eugénie, and tell her that I thank her very much for proposing to
gratify your affection to me by proposing that I should live with her
and you; but Susan and I have taken each other for better and worse,
unless some deserving person of the other sex should propose, and the
one he proposes to _should_ say, Yes, if you please. But I think we
shall never separate."

It is with regret that I have to recall Miss Susan Hamerton's unamiable
temper at that time; one thing comes in mitigation, but I only knew of
it years afterwards: she was suffering much from unavowed nervousness.
Her nephew told me that when living in the same house with her he had
sometimes noticed that she ate hardly anything and looked unwell; but to
his affectionate inquiries she used to answer: "My health is good
enough, thank you; and I know what you imply when you pretend to be
anxious about it--you mean that I am cross and ill-tempered." She made
it a point never to plead guilty to any physical ailment, as if it were
a weakness unworthy of her, and also to discourage all attempts at
sympathy.

Another thing I learned too late was her jealous disposition, which
explained her attitude towards her nephew at the time of his marriage;
it was love turned sour, and although we tried to discover the cause of
her bitterness in her worldly disappointment, we became convinced that
she would have felt as bitter had the bride been wealthy and of noble
lineage, because her jealousy would have tortured her as much, if not
more. She became jealous of her sister when we invited her; and long
afterwards, when her brother became a widower, and she went to live with
him, he confided to his nephew that he had had to bear frequent
outbursts of jealousy. It was merely the exaggeration of a tender
sentiment which could not brook a rival.




CHAPTER VI.


1859-1860.

Financial complications.--Summer visitors.--Boats and boating.--Visit to
Paris.--W. Wyld.--Project of a farm in France.--Partnership with M.
Gindriez.

While the "Painter's Camp" was progressing, which was to be the
foundation of my husband's success, three pictures had been sent to the
Academy and rejected; but after the first feeling of disappointment he
was cheered up again by a favorable opinion from Millais about those
pictures--one of them in particular, a sailing-boat on Loch Awe in the
twilight, which was pronounced true in effect and color. Aunt Mary wrote
to him soon after: "I am so very glad of the account you give of your
pictures, and of Millais' opinion of them; it is very encouraging. I do
hope truly that they will attract gain, good-will, and success for you."

As it would have been very expensive to have the pictures sent to and
fro, with the deterioration of the frames, packing, etc., Mr. Hamerton
begged a friend who lived in London to keep them in one of his empty
rooms (he had a whole floor unfurnished) till there were a sufficient
number of them for a private exhibition, in which he intended to give
lectures on artistic subjects.

The mill, after thorough and expensive repairs, had been let, but there
was bad news from the tenant of the coal-mine, who refused to pay the
rent any longer, under pretext that the mine was exhausted. This looked
very serious, as, after referring the matter to his uncle, who was a
solicitor, my husband learned that the lease made during his minority
did not specify the quantity of coal that the tenant was allowed to
extract from the mine, and, of course, as much as possible had been
taken out of it. Still, as there was an agreement to pay the rent during
twelve more years, the tenant's right to withdraw from the signed
agreement might be contested, and the affair had to be put into the
hands of a lawyer. This was a cause of great anxiety, and it was not the
only one. The health of my father had become very unsatisfactory of
late, and his situation was no longer secure. He had been on most
excellent terms with the English gentlemen who were at the head of the
firm in which he was cashier, but they were retiring from business, and
my father did not know what was coming next. He wrote on October 9,
1859:--

"Enfin je commence à respirer; depuis bientôt six semaines je ne savais
pas vraiment où donner de la tête. Nous avons eu transformation de
société, inventaire, assemblée d'actionnaires, tout cela m'a donné un
effrayant surcroit de besogne et de fatigue, et je n'avais pas le
courage de reprendre la plume lorsque je rentrais au logis, harassé et
souffrant. Aujourd'hui nos affaires commencent à reprendre leur cours
normal."

On the 28th of the same month I find this phrase in one of his letters:
"Ma position est plus tendue que jamais et les changements survenus dans
notre administration me donnent des craintes sérieuses pour l'avenir."
Then we learned that a project for lighting Bucharest with gas was on
foot, and that my father was to go there to ascertain the chances of
success. Some outlay was necessary, and my husband, who had heard of it
through a friend, generously offered to defray the preliminary expenses;
his offer, however, was declined for the time, there being as yet no
certainty of profit.

Early in 1860 Gilbert had to leave Innistrynich to visit his property
and receive the rents. He always felt reluctant to go there, because of
the painful reminiscences of his early youth, and of the dreariness of
the scenery. There was also another reason, still more powerful,--he was
not made to be a landlord, being too tender-hearted. How often did it
happen that, instead of insisting on getting his rent from a poor
operative, he left some of his own money in the hand of wife or
child?--frequently enough in hard times, I know.

He was staying at "The Jumps," and went from there to Shaw, Burnley, and
Manchester; he never missed writing to me every day, either a short note
or a long letter, according to his spare time. In one of them he says:--

"Ma tante Marie est bien bonne, mais nous ne parlons jamais de choses
sérieuses--toujours des riens. Comme la vie est étrange! à quoi bon
aller loin pour voir ses amis quand ils vous disent simplement qu'il
fait froid!... ma tante Susan est assez gracieuse, mais j'ai vu des
_nuages_. Je suis allé hier à Manchester où j'avais à faire; j'y ai vu
quelques tableaux et je suis de plus en plus convaincu que la meilleure
chose pour moi est de peindre plutôt dans le genre des _vrais_ peintres
Français que dans celui de nos Pré-Raphaelites, ces réalistes
impitoyables qui ne nous épargnent pas un brin de gazon."

This letter contains a strong proof of his mind's artistic evolution.

In the course of the summer we had several unexpected visitors, among
them Mr. and Mrs. Mackay, Mr. Pettie the artist, and the gentleman
described in the "Painter's Camp" as Gordon, who frequently
called,--sometimes with his son, sometimes alone, and on such occasions
generally remained for the night. Being an early riser, and indisposed
to remain idle till breakfast time, he was found in the morning knitting
an immense woollen stocking, which he afterwards took into use, and
found most comfortable wear for grouse-shooting, as he took care to
inform me.

We had once another visitor, who had come to paint from nature, and was
staying at the Dalmally inn; his name I will not mention on account of
a little adventure which made him so miserable that he left our house
breakfastless, rather than face me after it. He had been offered a
bedroom, and had slept soundly till about five in the morning, when
his attention was attracted by a small phrenological bust on the
chimney-piece, which he took into his bed, with the intention of
studying it at leisure. As he lay back on the pillow, however,
holding up the bust and turning it sideways to read the indications,
he became aware of a black dribble rapidly staining the sheets and
counterpane. Horrified at such a sight, he sprang out of bed, and
discovered--too late--that he had totally emptied the inkstand.

About the same time we had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with
Captain Clifton and his wife, Lady Bertha Clifton, who had rented a
large house on the other side of the lake, and proved very friendly
neighbors. Lady Bertha was extremely handsome; her voice was splendid,
and she sang readily when she was asked. Our neighbors had speculated a
good deal about her probable appearance, ways, and disposition, and the
news that a _lady in her own right_ was coming had created quite a
commotion. I asked to be enlightened on so important a subject, and soon
heard all the details from very willing lips. She was very simple in
dress, and often came to call upon us in a fresh cotton-print gown and
straw hat, with only the feather of a heron or a woodcock in it. Her
husband, Captain Clifton, retired from the army, spoke French fairly
well, and although he had little in common with Gilbert--being an
enthusiastic sportsman--soon became his most constant visitor. Both of
them liked the country and were fond of boating, and they both took an
interest in politics.

A very pleasant feature had been added to the lake by the appearance of
a small steamer belonging to a proprietor beyond Port Sonachan, who came
with his wife to Loch Awe every summer. They invited us from time to
time to join a fishing party, and we had either lunch or supper on
board. There was a cabin for shelter, and the ladies, being thus
protected against the almost unavoidable showers, readily joined the
salmon-fishers.

In this summer of 1860 Aunt Mary came with our cousin Jane, whose sweet
disposition and charm of manner greatly disturbed the peace of mind of a
bachelor visitor, a distant relation of my husband, who was looking
about for a shooting. Everything in his behavior seemed pointing to a
not distant offer; but Gilbert, who was already a good judge of
character, strongly doubted the final step. He said to me: "If Henry is
too sorely tempted, he will run away rather than expose his wealth to
the perils of matrimony; he does not spend his money, he is constantly
earning more and accumulating, but he has told me that no amount of
conjugal happiness could be a compensation to him if, at the end of the
year, he found out that he had spent a thousand pounds more than what he
was accustomed to spend regularly." And it happened that he left
abruptly, just as my husband had foretold, but not without promising a
future commission for two pictures when his billiard-room should be
finished.

The love of boating was very strong in Gilbert, but the love of planning
new boats _with improvements_ was still stronger; in fact, he always had
in a portfolio plans more or less advanced for some kind of boat, and he
very often made models with his own hands. I was in constant fear of the
realization of these plans, of which I heard a great deal more than I
could understand. He was well aware of it, and sometimes stopped short
to say with a smile: "Now, don't go away; I won't bother you any longer
with boats." Unable to resist the temptation of devising improvements,
even when he resisted that of testing them for his own use, he gave the
benefit of his thoughts to his friends when they seemed likely to prove
useful. In the course of the spring, however, he had been at work
planning a much larger boat than those he already possessed; one which
might, when needful, carry a cart-load of goods across the bay, or the
whole camp to any part of the lake. I offered some timid remonstrances
about the probable cost, but he met them by affirming that it would be
an economy _in the end_, by saving labor. So two carpenters were fetched
from Greenock, and began to work under his direction.

The building of the boat, which of course took more time than had been
expected, delayed our departure for France, but at last we set off to
introduce our baby-boy to his relations.

Once in Paris, Mr. Hamerton saw a great deal of his kind friend, William
Wyld, whose advice he was better able to appreciate now that his ideas
about art were no longer topographic. He began at this stage of artistic
culture to enjoy composition and harmony of color; and though he still
thought that his friend's compositions were rather too obviously
artificial, he did not remain blind to their merit. He also saw more of
Alexandre Bixio, brother of the celebrated Garibaldian general, at whose
house he met renowned artists, men of letters, and politicians.
Alexandre Bixio had been one of the founders of the "Revue des Deux
Mondes," with Bulwer Lytton. He had acted as Vice-President of the
Assemblée Nationale, and had been sent to the Court of Victor Emmanuel
as Minister Plenipotentiary, and was an intimate friend of Cavour. One
evening, after dinner at his house, he took Mr. Hamerton aside, and
pointing to a young man engaged in an animated conversation with several
other guests, he said: "I am very much mistaken if that is not a future
Minister of State." "He looks very young," answered my husband, very
much astonished. "He is young, he was born in 1827; but remember his
name, and in a few years you will see if I am right: it is Signor
Sella." Four years later Signor Sella was Minister of Finance.

As my husband has told in his autobiography, I had a sister younger than
myself by seven years, very pretty and winning, about whose future we
were very anxious, on account of the recurring interruptions in her
studies, owing to my mother's distressing state of health. When periods
of illness came on, the whole duty of attendance upon her devolved on my
sister, disastrous as such breaks in her education might prove as the
girl grew up. During the intervals of sickness my mother yielded to our
entreaties, and Caroline was sent to school; but as a day-scholar she
often missed classes for one reason or another, being so often wanted,
and after becoming a boarder she never remained in the same institution
for more than a few months at a time. My mother kept hoping that the
trouble would not return, and tried to persuade us that now Caroline's
studies would be regular, and that being very intelligent, she would
soon be on a par with girls of her own age; but this state of things had
lasted ever since I was married, and I could not foresee the end of it.
We often talked about it, my husband and myself, and he soon guessed
that I wished to have her with us, but that knowing how much he liked
having our home to ourselves I would not ask him to bring another into
it, even though it were my sister. He was, however, with his usual
generosity, the first to offer it. Aware of how much it cost him I
accepted nevertheless, for we were both of one mind, and considered it
as a duty to be done. I looked upon my sister as my child, for my
mother's illness had begun when Caroline was so young that almost all
motherly cares had devolved upon me, who was the eldest. We kept our
project secret to the last, not to disturb the family peace, and being
sure of my father's acquiescence and of Caroline's delight. When the day
came, my husband's persuasion prevailed, and my sister was entrusted to
our care.

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