A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Philip Gilbert Hamerton

P >> Philip Gilbert Hamerton et al >> Philip Gilbert Hamerton




"All these are first-rate, especially the two last, published by the
Society for the Promotion of Useful Knowledge, together with some
others, under the title of 'Lives of Eminent Persons.'

"The 'Biographie Universelle' will give you, no doubt, references as to
the best works under each head.

"We did not go abroad this year, but buried ourselves in absolute
solitude in Surrey--near Haslemere, if you know the lovely region; and
there I worked like a man going in for the Senior Wranglership, and Mrs.
Lewes, who was ailing most of the time, went on with her new work. This
work, by the way, is a panorama of provincial life, to be published in
eight parts, on alternative months, making four very thick vols. when
complete. It is a new experiment in publishing. While she was at her
art, I was at the higher mathematics, seduced into those regions by some
considerations affecting my personal work. The solitude and the work
together were perfectly blissful. Except Tennyson, who came twice to
read his poems to us, we saw no one.

"No sooner did we return home than Mrs. Lewes, who had been incubating
an attack, _hatched_ it--and for five weeks she was laid up, getting
horribly thin and weak. But now she is herself again (thinner self) and
at work.

"She begs me to remember her most kindly to you and to Mrs. Hamerton.

"Ever yours truly,

"G. H. LEWES."

Almost in every letter that my husband received from Mr. Lewes, he had
this confirmation of what George Eliot had told him about the heavy
penalty in health attending or following her labors.

Mr. Lewes had not mentioned his lives of Goethe and Aristotle, but they
were ordered with the other books he had recommended, and I began to
read them aloud to my husband whilst he was etching the plates for an
illustrated edition of the "Painter's Camp," that he had always hoped to
see accepted by Mr. Macmillan.

M. Pelletier had been promoted from Vendôme to Lons-le-Saunier, and
after spending a month of the vacation at our house with his wife and
three children, now invited his host and family to go back with him for
the remainder of the holidays. However, the boys only went, for their
father was incapacitated for railway travelling, and the little girl May
could not be persuaded to leave her parents, even to go with her cousins
and her Aunt Caroline, whom she so much loved.

The nervous state into which my husband had been thrown back had
produced a morbid sensitiveness to noise and to the sight of movement
which isolated him more and more, even from his nearest friends, and
during these last vacations he had seldom been able to take _déjeuner_
with us. In consequence he had a little hut erected near the river, _au
buisson Vincent_, whither he retired almost daily, and to which I took
or sent him his lunch; there he read, wrote, or sketched, surrounded
only by silent and motionless objects. This morbid sensitiveness
decreased with the light of day, and when the sun had set we generally
joined him to admire the beauty of the after-glow fading slowly into
twilight in the summer evenings. He always dined with us all, and after
dinner he either listened to music, of which he was very fond, or even
played a little himself on the violin, or walked out in company. We made
quite a little procession on the road now,--six children romping about,
my sister and her husband, my mother and my brother Charles, the master
of the house and myself; and since it had transpired that my husband was
not so well, some of his friends at Autun or in the neighborhood came as
often as they could to make him feel less out of the world. He has said
himself: "The intellectual life is sometimes a fearfully solitary one.
Unless he lives in a great capital the man devoted to that life is more
than other men liable to suffer from isolation, to feel utterly alone
beneath the deafness of space and the silence of the stars. Give him one
friend who can understand him, who will not leave him, who will always
be accessible by day and night,--one friend, one kindly listener, just
one,--and the whole universe is changed." In his case the friendly and
intelligent intercourse kept up with his wife's relatives alleviated in
a great measure the sense of isolation.

The life in the hut, together with the botanical studies and the
formation of the herbarium, suggested the plan of the "Sylvan Year," and
thereby lent additional interest to these pursuits, though at that time
his main work was the prosecution of "The Intellectual Life," now that
he had finished the correction of the handbook on etching. [Footnote:
Contributed to the "Portfolio," and afterwards published separately.]
This last work brought him many pleasant letters from brother artists,
but I shall only quote what Mr. Samuel Palmer said about it, because it
was his praise, and that of Mr. Seymour Haden, which gave the author the
greatest satisfaction, coming from authorities on the subject.

"REDHILL. _January_, 1872.

"DEAR MR. HAMERTON,--Had I thanked you earlier for your 'handbook,'
which came long ago, I could not have thanked you so much: for it is the
test of good books, as of good pictures, that they improve with
acquaintance. I had a little 'Milton' bound with brass corners, that I
might carry it always in my waistcoat-pocket--after doing this for
twenty years it was all the fresher for its portage. Your invention of
the positive process is equally useful and elegant; useful because the
reverse method lessens the pleasure of work, elegant because the
materials are delicate and the process cleanly and expeditious."

In this letter Mr. Palmer expressed his desire to publish a translation
of Virgil's "Eclogues" in verse, and asked for his correspondent's
advice about it. Another source of satisfaction to Gilbert was the
increasing success of his works in America. In January, 1872, he had a
letter from Roberts Brothers, in which they said:--

"We have mailed you a copy of 'The Unknown River.' It has proved a
success, and has been generally admired. It is a charming book, and we
should like to bring out a popular edition. 'Thoughts about Art' is
selling better than we expected--it has given a start to the 'Painter's
Camp,' which we are now printing a second edition of.

"We think you are getting to be well known and appreciated in this
country."

Enclosed in the letter was a remittance for £49 8_s_., which proves that
an author has need of a good many successes to pay his way; still, these
remittances from America made a difference in Mr. Hamerton's
circumstances, and were exclusively devoted to the education of his
boys. Though unambitious, he was not indifferent to the increase in his
reputation, for he had written in "The Intellectual Life," "Fame is
dearer to the human heart than wealth itself." He certainly cared
infinitely and incomparably more for his reputation--such as he wished
it to be, pure, dignified, and honored--than for wealth; his only desire
about money, often expressed, was "not to have to think about it."




CHAPTER XII.


1873-1875.

Popularity of "The Intellectual Life."--Love of animals.--English
visitors.--Technical notes.--Sir F. Seymour Haden.--Attempts to resume
railway-travelling.

The dedication of "The Intellectual Life" was a perfect surprise to me
when I first opened my presentation copy: the secret had been well kept.
I felt grateful and honored to be thus publicly associated by my husband
in his work, though my share had been but humble and infinitesimal--more
sympathetic than active, more encouraging than laborious. Our common
dream had been to be as little separated as possible, and he had
attempted soon after our marriage to rouse in me some literary ambition,
and to direct my beginnings. I first reviewed French books for "The
Reader," and he was kind enough to correct everything I wrote; then he
induced me to try my hand at a short novel, reminding me humorously that
some of my father's friends used to call me "Little Bluestocking." He
took a great deal of trouble to find a publisher for my second novel,
and was quite disappointed to fail. He wrote to encourage me to
persevere:--

"The reviews of your first novel have all been favorable enough, but the
publishers told me they had _never_ published a one-volume novel that
had succeeded, and that they had now made up their minds _never_ to
publish another, no matter who wrote it. I rather think they would
publish your new novel, but I earnestly recommend you to try ... _I am
quite sure_ you have something in you, but you want wider culture,
better reading, and more of it, and the difficulty about household
matters is for the present in your way, though if I go on as I am doing
now we will get you out of that."

A copy of "The Intellectual Life" was sent to Aunt Susan, who received
it just as she was going to visit her sister, Mrs. Hinde, whom she
found in failing health, and who died shortly after. It was a new grief
for my husband, to whom she had always been very kind. As soon as
tranquillity was re-established in France, after the war and Commune,
Mr. Hamerton had renewed a regular correspondence with his friends, and,
being greatly interested in the technique of the fine arts, consulted
those friends whose experience was most to be relied upon. Mr. Wyld's
letters are full of explanation about his own practice, as well as that
of Decamps, Horace Vernet, Delaroche, and Delacroix. In one of them I
find this interesting passage:--

"I very much doubt if the talent of coloring can be _learnt_. I think it
is a gift like an ear for music, which if not born with you can never be
perfectly acquired (I, for instance, _I am sure_, could never have
_perfectly_ tuned a violin). Doubtless if the faculty exists
intuitively, it may be perfected, or at all events much improved by
study and practice, but he that has it not from birth, _I_ think, can
never acquire it."

Mr. S. Palmer, in a long letter also devoted to the technical part of
painting and etching, turns to literature to say:--

"My pleasure in hearing of the success of 'The Intellectual Life' is
qualified only by the comparative apathy of the English. Of such a book
one edition here to three in America is something to be ashamed of."

The sale of the book was rapid, both in England and in America, but the
American sale continued to be incomparably the larger. As early as
February, 1874, Roberts Brothers wrote:--

"'The Intellectual Life' is a complete literary success in America; it
has been the means of making you almost a household god in the most
refined circles. We are now selling the fifth thousand. Our supply of
the English 'Chapters on Animals' [Footnote: Contributed to the
"Portfolio," and afterwards published separately.] is all sold, and we
are now stereotyping the book. We hope to sell a good many."

The motive which prompted my husband to write these "chapters" was
purely his love and pity for all dumb creatures. He never could do
without a dog--and the dog was always the favorite, being even preferred
to the saddle-horse; and when out of compassion for its infirmities it
had to be out of pain, his master never shirked the painful duty, but
performed it himself as mercifully as he could. One of his dogs, which
had long been treated for cancer, was at last chloroformed to death, his
master helping the veterinary surgeon all the time. Another, who became
suddenly rabid, and could not be prevented from entering the house, to
the imminent peril of us all, he met and stunned at a blow with a log of
wood, having no weapon ready. Poor Cocote was not sold when she became
useless, but allowed to divide her old age peacefully between the
freedom of the pasturage and the comfort and plenty of the stable, till
her master asked the best shot of the place (a poacher) to assist him in
firing a volley, which quickly put an end to her life, as she was
unsuspectingly coming out of the field. And he only came to this
decision when we left the country. Out of love or pity my husband was
interested in all animals, and I believe that animals were instinctively
aware of it. Dogs always sought his caresses; he used to remove _with
his hands_ toads from the dangers of the road, and they did not seem
afraid. He never was stung by bees, though he often placed his hand flat
in front of the opening in the hive, so that they were obliged to alight
upon it before entering. Of the rat only he had a nervous horror, but it
remained unconquerable; he disliked the sight of one, and if he met one
accidentally, he always experienced a disagreeable shock. When he tried
to find out the reason, he was inclined to attribute it to the
disquieting rapidity and restlessness of its movements.

In 1874 Mr. Hamerton began to write for the "International Review,"
principally on the fine arts, and continued his contributions till 1880.
Roberts Brothers expressed a wish that he would reserve the publications
in book form to their firm, which had done so much for his reputation.

At the beginning of April he heard from Boston that they were printing
the sixth thousand of the "Intellectual Life," and had written to
Messrs. Macmillan that they were willing to unite in bringing out a new
edition of "Etching and Etchers." In October the seventh thousand of the
"Intellectual Life" was being printed; the second edition of "Chapters
on Animals" and the second of "Thoughts about Art" were about half gone,
and "A Painter's Camp" was going off quite freely. About the last
Roberts Brothers added: "This book ought to sell better. We have reason
to congratulate ourselves that it so fascinated us that we ventured to
republish it. We are Nature lovers, and delight to keep the company of
one who loves her and is able to tell of it as you can."

Of course we cheered Aunt Susan with the list of these successes, and
she answered: "I wish, my dear P. G., that all your admirers would be as
generous with their money as they are with their flattery, for flattery
is not a commodity to supply a family with means of subsistence." In the
same letter she told of Mr. Hinde's death and funeral, and of her hopes
of seeing her nephew, Ben Hinde, succeed to his father's living.

Early in 1874 Mr. Hamerton had the pleasure of becoming personally
acquainted with one of the most distinguished of the contributors to the
"Portfolio,"--Mr. Sidney Colvin, who now came to pay a visit to the
editor, after nursing his friend R. L. Stevenson through one of his
dangerous attacks of illness. My husband esteemed highly Mr. Colvin's
knowledge and acquirements. During his short stay this esteem expanded
into personal regard, and in after years, whenever a meeting with him
was possible, it invariably afforded gratification.

In the summer our house was turned into a sort of temporary hospital by
an epidemic of measles brought to it by the boys from their college.
Having had it in my youth, I luckily was spared to nurse in succession
the three children and my husband, whose case was by far the most
serious. However, he would not take to his bed, but remained in his
study with a good fire at night, sleeping upon an ottoman or in an
arm-chair, wrapped up in his monk's dress, and the head covered with an
Algerian chechia. In due course he got through the distemper without
accident, but for fear of chills he continued to wear the chechia and
monk's dress in the house some time after his recovery, and he was so
discovered by Mr. and Mrs. Mark Pattison when they paid us an unexpected
visit. It happened thus. I had driven my sister and her youngest boy to
Autun, where he had been invited to stay a few days at his godmother's,
and as we alighted in the courtyard of the hotel I was told that an
English gentleman and his wife had ordered an omnibus to call upon Mr.
Hamerton, and were on the point of starting. On learning that I was at
the hotel they came to propose that I should go back to La Tuilerie with
them, which proposition I accepted with pleasure. I left the
pony-carriage, told my sister that I would fetch her in the evening, and
drove off with Mr. and Mrs. Pattison, the latter very much interested by
what I could point out to her on the way,--the Temple of Janus, the
Roman archways, the double walls of the town, and Mont Beuvray.

The drive from Autun to La Tuilerie is a short one, and we soon arrived
at the garden gate. As we stopped, the study window was quickly, almost
violently, thrown open, my husband's anxious face appeared through it,
and he shouted to the bewildered coachman, "What has happened?" At the
sight of an omnibus he had been afraid of an accident (not at all
unusual with Cocote's tendency to take fright, run away, and upset
carriage and all), and had fancied me hurt, and brought back laid upon
the cushioned seat. But as soon as he saw me safe and sound, and noticed
my companions, he hastened down to receive his visitors. We spent the
afternoon very pleasantly, but as it was getting cooler and a little
damp after sunset, my husband, who was not fully recovered, had to
excuse himself from accompanying Mr. and Mrs. Pattison back to Autun,
and to let me go instead. I had the pleasure of a second meeting with
them on the following morning at the hotel, when we took leave of each
other.

I have always remembered an incident in connection with this visit that
Mr. and Mrs. Pattison never knew of. There had been in our entrance hall
for the last four months at least, a manuscript notice written very
legibly by Mr. Hamerton, and carefully pasted up with his own hands, in
a very good light by the side of the drawing-room door, to this effect:
"English visitors to this house are earnestly requested not to stay
after seven o'clock p.m. if not invited to dine; and when invited to
dine, not to consider themselves as entitled to the use of a bedroom,
unless particularly requested to remain."

This had been done in a moment of legitimate anger and vexation (of
course without consulting me), and I had thought it the best policy to
ignore it for some time--particularly during winter, when it was put up,
for there was little probability of English visitors at that time. As to
French visitors, it was unlikely that they could make out its meaning,
and if they did, as it did not concern them, they would consider it as a
humorous _boutade_. After a fortnight, however, I begged my husband to
remove the "notice;" but his anger had not cooled a bit, and he said in
a tone that I knew to admit of no opposition that the "notice" was meant
to remain there _permanently_. And there it remained, at first
partially, and by degrees almost entirely, covered up by the shawls or
mantles that I artfully spread as far as possible over the obnoxious
manuscript, till, emboldened by non-interference, and under pretext that
the wall-paper about the door was soiled, I got leave to have a new
piece hung, and took care to have it laid _over_ the notice. This took
place on the very day that Mr. and Mrs. Pattison paid their friendly
visit.

I must now explain the cause of my husband's temporary ukase. As I have
said before, M. Bulliot, President of the Société Eduenne, was a friend
of his, and on one occasion, a Scotchman having applied to him for
permission to see a precious book kept in the archives of the learned
society, M. Bulliot, finding him well-bred and interesting, took the
trouble of bringing him to La Tuilerie, in the hope that Mr. Hamerton
and Mr. W---- would derive pleasure from the meeting. It was so, and Mr.
W----'s researches at Autun requiring a few days only, he was invited to
dinner for the morrow. He duly arrived and dined, but as he gave no sign
of going away, I asked him a little before ten if he was a good walker,
as the hotels at Autun closed at eleven. He merely answered, "No
matter." Looking already like an old man, and weak besides, I felt
certain that he could not possibly reach the town in time for a bed, and
I quietly retired to mine. My husband told me in the morning that he had
shown Mr. W---- to the spare room, unwilling to turn an old man out in
the cold and mist of an early morning. I foresaw a repetition of what
had happened at Pré-Charmoy. And so it proved, for Mr. W---- quartered
himself upon us for two days, and it is impossible to say how much
longer he would have stayed if my husband had not at last insisted
peremptorily on driving him back to Autun.

On reaching home Gilbert immediately went up to his study to write his
"Notice to English visitors," and without saying a word securely pasted
it up at the entrance. A few days later he heard from the proprietor of
the Hótel de la Poste, that before leaving Mr. W---- had said, "Mr.
Hamerton will settle the bill."

It was a good thing for my husband that he gave so much consideration to
the bringing up of his children, for indirectly he derived from it some
benefit to his own health; for instance, not wishing them to be always
confined to college, he used often to drive them to and from Autun; and
in the summer, as he came back, he would just stop the pony for a few
minutes at our gate to pick up the rest of the family and a hamper, then
take us to a cool and shady dell divided from a little wood by the river
Vesvre--the coldest water I ever bathed in; and as soon as Cocote was
taken out of harness and left in the enjoyment of the fresh grass, we
all tumbled into the icy water, and swam till our appetites were
thoroughly sharpened for a hearty dinner in the lingering twilight.

The children were also taken by their father to the hills, where they
climbed about whilst he sketched; his little daughter Mary liked nothing
better than to spend a day "au Pommoy" above the beautiful valley of the
Canche, where the parents of our servant-girl lived. They were farmers
in a very humble way, but they offered us heartily the little they
possessed,--the new-laid eggs, the clotted cream, which the children
delighted in, thickly spread upon black bread, and which the mother
prepared in perfection; also frothy goat's milk, with walnuts and
chestnuts in their season. Cocote, too, had free access to the dainty
grass and crystal spring of their pasturage in the hollow behind the
cottage. Whilst my husband painted and I read to him, we watched the
children, who, bare-footed and bare-legged, turned up the stones in the
river-bed seeking for trout and crayfish. In the course of these
pleasant excursions Gilbert entered into conversation with every one he
met--farmers, shepherdesses, cow-boys, and even beggars, learning what
he could of their lives and thoughts, sympathizing with their labors and
their wants, often conveying useful information to their minds,
frequently on politics, sometimes on geography or science. He tried to
explain to them the railways and telegraph, for many of the dwellers in
these hilly regions had never seen a railroad, especially the old folk,
who could no longer walk any great distance, and remembered Autun only
as it was in the time of the diligences. He liked the polite,
deferential manners of the French peasants and their quiet dignity; and
they felt at ease with him because of his serious interest in what
concerned them, and total absence of pride in the superiority of his
station or learning. Wherever he went he liked to see the parish church,
and generally found it worth his while, either artistically or
historically. The cure was frequently to be met with, and not sorry to
talk with a person better informed than most of his parishioners: it was
for Gilbert another field to glean from, and on such occasions he
generally managed to bring home a sheaf with him. It was most remarkable
to see how well he got on with the Roman Catholic clergy, although his
religious opinions were never hidden from them, and his attitude by no
means conducive to hopes of conversion; but on the other hand, he was
not aggressive, and did not turn into ridicule ceremonies or beliefs to
which he remained a stranger. Perfectly firm in his own convictions, he
respected those of other people, because his large sympathy understood
the different wants of different natures, even when he had no share in
them. He was always on visiting terms with _our_ curé (the one
officiating at Tavernay--the nearest village to La Tuilerie), and on
friendly terms with the Aumônier de l'Hôpital and the Aumônier de
Collège (although the boys were not under his spiritual direction, their
father considering it as a duty to let them choose their own religion
when they were of age); later on l'Abbé Antoine, professor at the
seminary, became a faithful and welcome visitor to La Tuilerie; even
Monseigneur the Bishop of Autun gave a signal proof of his respect for
Mr. Hamerton's character, which will be related in due course, and
visited him afterwards so long as we remained in the Autunois.

The technical difficulties of painting, which were giving my husband so
much trouble to conquer, led him to speak not unfrequently of the
advantages formerly afforded to students by the privilege of working in
the same studios with their masters, and even of having some portions of
the masters' pictures to execute under their personal and invaluable
direction. He realized what a gain it would be, not only for beginners,
but even for artists, to be acquainted with the best methods of the best
artists, and at last, counting upon their well-known generosity, he
resolved to make a general appeal to their experience. They were almost
unanimously favorable to the idea, and furnished valuable notes, the
substance of which was published in the "Portfolio." The letters are too
technical, though very interesting, to be quoted here, but the eminent
names of the writers will be a proof of the importance attached to the
subject. I find those of Sir Frederick Leighton, Sir John Gilbert,
Watts, Holman Hunt, Samuel Palmer, Calderon, Wyld, Dobson, Davis,
Storey, etc., etc., in the notes still in my possession.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.