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Philip Gilbert Hamerton

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With the tender thoughtfulness which characterized my husband, he had
contrived a low step and a door at the back part of the carriage to
allow an aged person, like his aunt or my mother, to get inside with
ease and safety, and to get out quite as easily in case of danger.

They arrived in the middle of July, and spent a month with us. They were
both in very good health, and Aunt Susan, in spite of her seventy years,
rivalled her little grand-niece with the skipping-rope. She wrote
afterwards from West Lodge on August 20:--

"MY DEAR NEPHEW AND NIECE,--We arrived at home all safe and well at five
o'clock on Monday to tea, and to-day it is a week since we left your
most kind and hospitable entertainment, and I can assure you a most
true, heartfelt pleasure and gratification it has been to me to spend a
month with you, for which you must accept our best thanks for your
kindly studied attentions and exertions to make our visit pleasant. I am
sure I am much better for my journey; I feel strong and more vigorous;
the drives in the little carriage were no doubt the very thing that
would conduce to my getting strong, as I had then fresh air and exercise
without fatigue. [There follows a description of the journey, according
to a careful itinerary prepared by her nephew.] How is little Lala, lal,
a, lala? [her little niece, who was always singing]. We often talk of
her interesting ways and doings, and I often wish I could give other
English lessons to my nephews. I think we should have made some
progress, as both sides seemed interested in their business."

Shortly after the departure of his relatives, Mr. Hamerton was informed
by his landlord that he would have to leave the little house and garden
and stream he liked so well, because it was now the intention of the
proprietor to come to it with his family to spend the vacations. He was
offered, instead, another house on the same estate, called "La
Tuilerie," larger and more convenient, but a thoroughly _banale maison
bourgeoise_, devoid of charm and picturesqueness, close to the main
road, and without a garden; moreover, in an inconceivable state of
dirtiness and dilapidation. I felt horror-struck at the notion of
removing to such a place; however, I was at last obliged to submit to
fate. My husband, though very disinclined to a move, thought that since
it could not be avoided, it was as well to make it as easy, cheap, and
rapid as possible. He could not afford to lose time, and his health
prohibited long travels in search of a new abode, since he could not
make use of railways. We went as far in the neighborhood of Pré-Charmoy
as Cocote could take us in a day in different directions, but found
nothing suitable, probably because we did not wish to be at a distance
from the college, which would prevent the boys from coming home as they
had been accustomed to do.

The greater space and conveniences offered at La Tuilerie were a
temptation to my husband. We had, besides two entrances, a large
dining-room, drawing-room, kitchen, six bedrooms, lots of closets,
cupboards, dressing-rooms, and an immense garret all over the first
floor, well lighted by two windows, and paved with bricks. In the
extensive courtyard was a set of out-buildings, consisting of a
gardener's cottage, cartshed, and stable for six horses; and as on the
ground belonging to the house there had formerly existed a tile-kiln
(_tuilerie_) with drying sheds, there was ample space for a garden after
removing the rubbish which still covered it.

The fact is that circumstances allowed of no choice, and we had to
resign ourselves to the inevitable. Gilbert saw at once that with a
certain outlay and a great deal of ingenuity he could make La Tuilerie
not only tolerable, but even convenient and pleasant--though I doubted
it--and he explained how the outbuilding might be used as laundry,
laboratory, and carpenter's shop--there being three rooms of different
sizes in it; and what a gain it would be so to have all the dirty work
done outside the house. Another attraction was the good views from all
the windows; that of the Beuvray, with the plain leading to it; the
amphitheatre of Autun, with the intervening wood of noble trees, and
beyond it the temple of Janus; the range of the Morvan hills, the fields
of golden wheat and waving corn, and the pastures which looked like
mysterious lakes in the moonlight when the white mist rose from the
marshes and spread all over their surface--endlessly as it seemed. He
promised me to plan out a garden, and there being several fine trees
about the kiln and on the border of the road--oaks, elders, elms, and
spindle trees--he said he would contrive to keep them all, so as to have
shade from the beginning, and to give the new garden an appearance of
respectable antiquity.

The workmen were set at once to their task of repairing, painting, and
papering, and though my husband deprecated both the time spent on
supervision and the unavoidable expense (for the landlord, under pretext
that the rent was low, refused to contribute to the repairs, which he
called _améliorations_), was unmistakably elated by the prospect of
having the use of a more spacious dwelling; for he very easily suffered
from a feeling of confinement, and tried to get rid of it by having two
small huts which could be moved about to different parts of the estate
according to his convenience, and to which he resorted when so inclined.
Even when they were not used, it was for him a satisfaction to know that
he had in readiness a refuge away from the house whenever he chose to
seek it. This dislike to confinement was betrayed unconsciously when he
sat down to his meals by his first movement, which pushed aside whatever
seemed _too near_ his plate--glass, wine-bottle, salt-cellars, etc. I
remember that he would not use the public baths in France, because the
cabins are small and generally locked on the outside. It was therefore a
great pleasure to devise stands and cupboards and shelves in the large
room which was to be his laboratory, and which he adorned with a cheap
frieze of white paper with gilt edges, and "Lose no Time" in
black-and-red letters, repeated upon each of the four walls, so as not
to escape notice whichever way you turned.

The carpenter's shop also had its due share of attention, and was well
provided with labelled boxes of all dimensions for nails, screws, etc.,
whilst a roomy closet, opening into the studio, was fitted up with a
piece of furniture specially designed to receive the different-sized
portfolios containing engravings, etchings, and studies of all kinds,
together with a lot of pigeon-holes to keep small things separate and in
order. All this was done at home, under his direction, and he has let
his readers into the secret of his taste when he wrote in "Wenderholme":
"For the present we must leave him (Captain Eureton) in the tranquil
happiness of devising desks and pigeon-holes with Mr. Bettison, an
intelligent joiner at Sooty thorn, _than which few occupations can be
more delightful._" About the pigeon-holes, a friend of my husband once
made a discovery which he declared astounding. "I well knew that Mr.
Hamerton was a model of order," he said to me; "but I only knew to what
extent when, having to seek for string, I was directed to these
pigeon-holes. I easily found the one labelled 'String,' but what it
contained was too coarse for my purpose. 'Look above,' said Mr.
Hamerton. I did, and sure enough I saw another label with 'String
(thin).' I thought it wonderful."

Yes, Gilbert _loved_ order, and strove to keep it; but as it generally
happened that he had to do many things in a hurry (catching the post,
for instance), he could not always find time to replace what he had
used. When this had gone on so as to produce real disorder, he gave a
day to restoring each item to its proper place--this happened generally
after a long search for a mislaid paper, the finding of which evoked the
oft-repeated confession, "I love Order better than she loves me, as
Byron said of Wisdom."

The correspondence relating to the foundation of the "Portfolio" was now
very heavy; everything had to be decided between Mr. Seeley and Mr.
Hamerton; suitable contributors had to be found, subjects discussed,
illustrations chosen. The only English art magazine of that day confined
its illustrations to line engravings and woodcuts, and its plates were
almost always engraved from pictures or statues. It was intended that
the "Portfolio" should make use of all new methods of illustration, and
should publish drawings and studies as well as finished works. But it
was the dearest wish of the editor that the revived art of Etching
should receive due appreciation in England, and that, with this object,
etched plates should be made a feature of the new magazine.

The contents of the first volume will best show the plan, which was
quite unlike that of any existing periodical. A series of articles on
"English Artists of the Present Day" was contributed by Mr. Sidney
Colvin, Mr. W. M. Rossetti, Mr. Tom Taylor, Mr. Beavington Atkinson, and
the editor. These were illustrated by drawings most willingly lent by
Mr. G. F. Watts, Mr. Poynter, Sir E. Burne-Jones, Mr. Calderon, Mr. H.
S. Marks, Mr. G. D. Leslie, and other painters; and by paintings by Lord
Leighton, Mr. Armitage, and Mr. A. P. Newton. The reproductions were
made by the autotype (or carbon) process of photography, which was then
coming into high estimation as a means of making permanent copies of
works by the great masters. Every copy of these illustrations was
printed by light, a process only possible in the infancy of a magazine
which could count at first on the interest of but a small circle, and
had to form its own public. The editor contributed a series of papers,
entitled "The Unknown River," illustrated by small etchings by his own
hand. These were printed on India paper, and mounted in the text,
another process only possible in a magazine addressed to a few. The
first volume also contained a very fine etching by M. Legros, and others
by Cucinotta and Grenaud. Articles were contributed by Mr. F. T.
Palgrave, Mr. Watkiss Lloyd, Mr. G. A. Simcox, and Mrs. Mark Pattison
(Lady Dilke). A paper on "A New Palette" of nine colors was the
forerunner of the elaborate "Technical Notes" of later years. The
imposing size of the new magazine, its bold type, fine, thick paper, and
wide margins were much admired, and prepared the way for the many
editions _de luxe_ issued in England in the next quarter of the century.

In the second year the slow autotype process had to be abandoned for the
quicker Woodburytype, by which were reproduced drawings kindly
contributed by Sir J. E. Millais, Sir John Gilbert, Mr. Holman Hunt, Mr.
Woolner, Mr. G. Mason, Mr. Hook, and others. The editor commenced a
series of "Chapters on Animals," illustrated with etchings by Veyrassat.
Other etchings by M. Martial, Mr. Chattock, Mr. J. P. Heseltine, and Mr.
Lumsden Propert appeared. Mr. Basil Champneys, Mr. W. B. Scott, and Mr.
F. G. Stephens contributed articles.

In the third year a series of "Examples of Modern Etching" was made the
chief feature. It included plates by M. L. Flameng, Sir F. Seymour
Haden, M. Legros, M. Bracquemond, M. Lalanne, M. Rajon, M. Veyrassat,
and Mr. S. Palmer. The editor wrote a note upon each, and had now the
pleasure of seeing one of his objects accomplished, and the public
appreciation of his favorite art extending every day.

In subsequent years the various methods of photo-engraving were employed
instead of the carbon processes of photography, and the "Portfolio" was
one of the first English periodicals to give reproductions of
pen-drawings.

Several of M. Amand-Durand's admirable facsimiles of etchings and
engravings by the old masters adorned its pages. In 1873 appeared one of
Mr. R. L. Stevenson's first contributions to literature,--if not his
first,--a paper on "Roads," signed "L. S. Stoneven." This was followed
by other articles in the years 1874, 1875, and 1878, bearing his own
name.

The fear of running short of work was not realized; on the contrary, my
husband had always too much on his hands; for he dreaded hurry, and
would have liked to bestow upon each of his works as much time as he
thought necessary, not only for its completion, but also for its
preparation, and that was often considerable, because he could not
slight a thing. When he was writing for the "Globe" he polished his
articles as much as a book destined to last; he always respected his
work, and the care given to it bore no relation to the price it was to
fetch. He often expressed a wish that he might labor like the monks in
the Middle Ages, without being disturbed by mercenary considerations;
that simple shelter, food, and raiment should be provided for himself
and for those dependent upon him--he did not foresee any other wants--so
that he might devote the whole of his mental energy to subjects worthy
of it. But I used to answer that if he had such liberty he never would
publish anything; for whenever he sent MS. to the printer it was
inevitably with regret at not being able to keep it longer for
improvement. Still, the second volume of "Wenderholme" had been sent to
Mr. Blackwood, who wrote on Sept. 24, 1869:--

"There is no doubt that I liked vol. 2 very much. The story is told in a
simple, matter-of-fact way, which is very effective, by giving an air of
truth to the narrative.

"The fire and the whole scene at the Hall is powerfully described. The
love at first sight is well put, and the militia quarters and the
landlord are true to the life."

My husband read to me the MS. of the novel as fast as he wrote it, and I
was afraid that some of the original characters might be recognized by
their friends, being so graphically described; however, he believed it
unlikely, people seeing and judging so differently from each other.

In the summer, as usual, we had several visitors who afforded varying
degrees of pleasure; a strange lady-artist amongst others, whose
blandishments did not succeed in making my husband acquiesce in her
desire of boarding with us, free of charge, in return for the English
lessons she would give to our children. She resented the non-acceptance
of her proposition, and having begged to look at the studies on the
easel, feigned to hesitate about their right side upwards, by turning
them up and down several times, and retiring a few steps each time as if
in doubt.

A more desirable visit was that of M. Lalanne, who besides his talent
had much amiability and very refined manners. Ever after he remained, if
not quite an intimate friend of my husband, at least more than an
acquaintance, and whenever they had a chance of meeting they made the
most of it. Gilbert, after one of these meetings,--a _déjeuner_ at M.
Lalanne's,--told me the following anecdote. Some one asked him if he
had not the "Legion d'honneur"? and being answered that it had not been
offered, went on to say that it was not "offered," but "accordée"
through the influence of some important personage, or by the pressure of
public opinion; "and I think this should be your case," M. Lalanne's
friend went on, "for you have rendered, and are still rendering, such
great service to French art and to French artists, that it ought to be
acknowledged. As you do not seem inclined to trouble yourself about it,
a deputation might be chosen among your admirers to present a petition
to that effect to the Ministre des Beaux-Arts." Mr. Hamerton having
replied that he should prize the distinction only if it were
spontaneously conferred, M. Lalanne remarked that decorations were of
small importance, and asked without the slightest pride, "Do you know
that I am one of the most _décorés_ of civilians?... No; well, then, I
will show you my decorations." Then ringing the bell, he said to the
maid who answered it, "Bring the box of decorations, please." It was a
good-sized box, and when opened showed on a velvet tray a number of
crosses, stars, rosettes, and ribbons of different sizes and hues, all
vying in brilliancy and splendor. The first tray removed, just such
another was displayed equally well filled, and M. Lalanne explained
that, having given lessons to the sons of great foreign personages, they
had generally sent him as a token of regard and gratitude some kind of
decoration--maybe in lieu of payment.

At the end of 1869 "Wenderholme" was published, and the first number of
the "Portfolio" made its appearance on January 1, 1870, and from that
date it became for the editor an undertaking of incessant interest, to
the maintenance and improvement of which he was ever ready to devote
himself, and for which he would have made important sacrifices. The
dedication of "Wenderholme" was meant for Aunt Susan, and after
receiving the book, she wrote:--

"Accept my most sincere and highly gratified thanks for the copy of your
novel, and its dedication. We have heard that the "Times" and the
"Yorkshire Post" had each favorable articles on the merits of your
novel. We have detected nearly every character, even those that take
other forms, but we do not even whisper any information in this
neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. W---- were immediately struck with the
'hoffens' and 'hirritation' of the doctor, but I pretend to think it not
individual, but that it was the case among the people you were writing
about."

In May 1870, Mr. Hamerton removed to La Tuilerie, about five hundred
yards from Pré-Charmoy. He continued to date his letters from
Pré-Charmoy--the new house being on the estate so called; his motive was
to avoid possible confusion in the delivery of his letters. He was
greatly tickled to hear the peasants call his new abode "le château de
l'Anglais," and to see them staring admiringly from the road at the
windows, which were left open that paint and plaster might dry before we
came to live in it. Though perfectly independent of luxury, my husband
liked cleanliness and taste in the arrangement of the simplest
materials, and he contrived by a good choice of patterns and colors in
the papering of the rooms, with the help of fresh matting on the floors,
and the judicious hanging of fine engravings and etchings in his
possession, to impart quite a new and pleasant aspect to the _banale
maison bourgeoise_. Gradually I became reconciled to it, on account of
its greater convenience, and I even came to like it when the vines and
wisteria and golden nasturtiums hid the ugly bare walls, and the
fragrance of mignonette and roses and petunias was wafted into the rooms
looking over the garden, and that of wild thyme and honeysuckle into
those which looked over the fields; when the tall acacias began to shoot
upwards straight and graceful from their velvety green carpet, and
scattered upon it their perfumed moth-like flowers; while we listened to
the humming of the happy bees in the sweet-smelling lime trees and to
the wondrous song of the rival nightingales challenging each other from
bower to bower in the calm, warm nights of summer-time. And such a great
change did not take very long to realize: the ground had been well
drained and plentifully manured, and it was almost virgin soil,
unexhausted by previous vegetation, so that the elm-bower was soon
thickly leaved and with difficulty prevented from closing up, the
climbing vines became heavy with grapes, whilst the spreading branches
of the acacias speedily formed a vast parasol, and afforded a pleasant
shelter from the glare of the August sunshine. Hardy fruit trees of all
kinds had been planted all along the garden hedge, and in the third year
began to yield cherries--in moderation--but plums of different species
we had in great quantities, also quinces, sometimes apples, apricots,
and figs--the two last, however, were frequently destroyed by frost,
the spring being generally very cold in the Morvan. As to pears, we had
to wait somewhat longer for them, the pear trees requiring strict
pruning to preserve the quality of the fruit; but we used to have a
small cart-load of them when the year had been favorable. There was
nothing my husband liked better than to pick gooseberries, currants,
raspberries, cherries, or plums, and eat them fresh as we took a walk in
the garden; he was very fond of fruit, and unlike most men, he would
rather do without meat than without vegetables or dessert. His tastes in
food, as in everything else, were very simple, but he was particular
about _quality_. I never heard him complain of insufficiency, though,
situated as we were, there was sometimes only just enough; and even that
lacking which might have been considered as most necessary, namely, a
dish of meat. For Gilbert, however, it was not a privation when
occurring occasionally; nay, he even enjoyed the change, and as I
generally went to Autun on Fridays and could get fish, we made it a
_jour maigre_, though not from religious motives. It was understood that
if eggs were served they must be newly laid; if potatoes, mealy and _à
point_; if fish, fresh and palatable; he would not have tolerated the
economy of one of our lady neighbors, who abstained from buying fish at
Autun because it was too dear, she said; but who used to bring a full
hamper when she came back yearly from Hyères, where it was cheap, enough
to last for a week _after the journey_, and who considered the unsavory
hamper an ample compensation for the absence of fish from her menus
during the remainder of the year.

The removal did not hinder or interrupt Mr. Hamerton seriously in his
work, for the new house was quite ready to receive the furniture; and
the place of every piece having been decided beforehand, the farmers
merely handed them out of their carts to the workmen, who carried them
inside the rooms, according to previous directions.

The difficulty of getting proofs of the different states of his plates
whilst etching them, incited my husband to invent a press for his own
laboratory, that he might judge of his work in progress by taking proofs
for himself whenever he liked. Considering the present state of our
affairs I was not favorable to the idea, but I was overruled, as in all
cases concerning expenses deemed necessary to artistic or literary
pursuits. He had few material wants, and therefore thought himself
justified in providing for his intellectual needs--for instance, by the
gradual formation of a library. He often deprecated the necessity of
apparent extravagance in such things; "but you see," he would say, "I
cannot stand stationary in the acquirement of knowledge if I am to go on
teaching others--I must keep ahead--without mentioning the satisfaction
of my own tastes and cravings, to which I have a certain right." Indeed
it was truly wonderful that he should have been able to achieve so much
work, and work of such quality, in the intellectual solitude and
retirement of these seven years passed out of great cities where
libraries, museums, and human intercourse constantly offer help and
stimulus to a writer. Luckily for him he bore solitude well. He has said
in "The Intellectual Life": "Woe unto him that is never alone, and
cannot bear to be alone!" And again: "Only in solitude do we learn our
inmost nature and its needs." Further on: "There is, there is a strength
that comes to us in solitude from that shadowy awful Presence that
frivolous crowds repel." He often sought communion with that awful
Presence in the thick forests of the Morvan and on the highest peak of
the Mont Beuvray, and found it.

For some time our minds had been disturbed by the unsettled aspect of
French politics, and the possibility of a war with Prussia had been a
cause of great personal anxiety to my husband on account of his
nationality. He has related in "Round my House" how the news of the
declaration of war reached us on a Sunday, as we were bringing the
children home after spending the day peacefully in the fields and on the
river-banks of a picturesque little village.

It is probable that if my husband had been able to bear a long railway
journey, we might have accepted the hospitality so kindly offered in the
following letter:--

WEST LODGE. _August_ 12, 1870.

"MY VERY DEAR NEPHEW AND NIECE,--I am most grievously and fearfully
concerned to hear of your sad condition in consequence of the terrible
and needless war that is now spreading misery, desolation, and perhaps
famine all over the Empire, just to gratify the unbounded ambition of
one man. We wish you and your three children could fly over to us and be
in safety. Really, if you get at all alarmed, do not hesitate to come,
all of you, with as much of your property as you can pack and bring; we
can and shall be pleased to find you refuge from any pending evil you
may be dreading. Dear P. G., you would find your articles about the
state of your country had got copied into the 'Manchester Courier,' but
we wish to caution you about what you put in them. Remember whose iron
heart could punish you, and what would become of your wife and family if
you were cast into prison.

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