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Philip Gilbert Hamerton

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However, after having passed a successful examination it was Richard
who, of his own accord, told his father that he felt very doubtful about
the ultimate result of his artistic studies. He believed they were begun
too late, and that his chances against students who had several years'
start were very small--they had been drawing and painting since the age
of thirteen or fourteen, whilst he was preparing himself for his
degrees. The ease with which he had carried off the _Certificat
d'aptitude_ made him sanguine about being ready for the _Agrégation_ in
the course of a year, after which he would be entitled to a post in the
University. He would not abandon art, he said, but would not follow it
as a profession.

It was a great relief that the resolution should have been his own; but
it surprised Mr. Seeley considerably, and he wrote to my husband:--

"From what you tell me of his want of enjoyment in the practice of art,
the determination seems wise. I suppose we take it for granted that a
man must take pleasure in doing whatever he can do well; but there is no
reason in the world why ability and inclination should always go
together. A man with a good eye and that general ability and power of
application which make a good student may easily be a draughtsman above
the average, but it is quite intelligible that he should take more
pleasure in other studies."

At the end of August Gilbert went with Stephen and his eldest nephew,
Maurice Pelletier, for a cruise of ten days on the Saône. They were on
the new catamaran "L'Arar," and enjoyed their voyage thoroughly.

On October 2, Richard left us to go to Paris to have the benefit of _les
Cours de la Sorbonne_, as a preparation for _L'Agrégation d'Anglais_;
and in December Stephen asked for a year's leave of absence from his
post, in order to pursue his English studies in London. It is therefore
conceivable that the father's health should have been impaired by
anxiety and his brain overtaxed by the numerous works he had undertaken
to meet his responsibilities. He was at the same time writing "Human
Intercourse" for Messrs. Macmillan, "Paris" for the "Portfolio," and the
book on "Landscape" was begun.

In November he had written a very long letter to Miss Betham-Edwards,
mainly in explanation of the word "sheer" used for boats, then about our
doings, and he says:--

"We have had the house upset by workpeople, but we are settled again
after a great bother, which I dreaded before, as Montaigne used to dread
similar disturbances; but now it is over I feel myself much more
comfortable and orderly, though the reform has cost me a considerable
loss of time. The rooms look prettier and are less crammed.

"I got the other day a letter of twenty pages from a cousin in New
Zealand who had never written to me for thirty years. It was the most
interesting biography of struggle, adventure, danger, hard work, and
final success. It is a great pity that the men who go through such lives
have not the literary talent to make autobiographies that can be
published. I have another cousin whose history is _quite_ as good as
'Robinson Crusoe,' and I have engaged him to write it, but he never
will. If I lived near him I could gradually get the material out of him;
but at a distance I cannot get him even to write rough notes. On the
other hand, we literary people are quite humdrum people in our ways of
life, and our autobiographies would generally be of little interest.

"I have been reading Ariosto lately in Italian, and am struck both by
his qualities and deficiencies. He is all on the surface; but what a
wealth of inventive power, and what a well-sustained, unflagging energy
and cheerfulness! The descriptions are frequently superb, and there is a
go in the style generally that is very stimulating. It is like watching
the flow of a bright, rapid, brimming river. I don't think we have any
English poet of the same kind. Spenser is rather like, but heavier, and
just lacking that brightness in combination with movement. Spenser and
Byron together contain many of the qualities of Ariosto."

The first note in the diary for 1884 says: "I must try to economize time
in all little things where economy is possible without injury to the
quality of work. I cannot economize it very much in the work itself
without risk of lowering quality."

It was a pleasure for my husband to see that his articles on the
architecture of Paris had been so favorably noticed as to bring requests
for contributions from "The Builder" and "L'Architecte." Mr. Seeley
wrote to him: "I think it is a feather in your cap that your
architectural notes should have brought you invitations to write for
professional journals."

My brother-in-law, M. Pelletier, had left Algiers, and was now Économe
at the Lycée at Marseilles. He had suggested that, it being possible to
go from Chalon to Marseilles by water, we might pay him a visit and see
the course of the Rhône at the same time. My husband felt greatly
tempted to accept, for more than one reason: he would be able at the
same time to take notes and to make observations on the way for the book
on "Landscape," and to come to a conclusion about the possibility of the
Rhône scheme. We might divide the places of interest into two series,
and see one of them in going and the other in coming back, with a
pleasant time of rest at our friend's in the interval.

The itinerary was carefully prepared to miss nothing on the way, and on
April 8 we left my mother in charge of the house, whilst my husband,
myself, and Mary started from Chalon, where we went on board the steamer
for Mâcon. My husband having often seen the town, was left to his
writing whilst I took Mary to see the church of Brou. From Mâcon to
Lyons we enjoyed the landscape from the deck of the steamer,
particularly Trévoux, and L'Ile Barbe as we neared Lyons.

Note in the diary: "We passed through some lovely scenery, but I came to
the conclusion never to boat with the 'Arar' below Courzon."

So long as he remained on the water or in little out-of-the-way places,
Gilbert was well enough and enjoyed himself exceedingly, but as soon as
we were obliged to stay in large towns he began to suffer; at Lyons,
having attempted to go to the Museum when it was crowded, he had to
hurry out, and it is a miracle how he managed to reach the hotel, where
he went through one of the worst attacks of nervousness in his life. It
did not last very long, and when he was well again I took Mary to
Fourvières.

By rail we proceeded to Vienne, then to Valence and Pierre-latte,
where it was pitch dark as we got out, and raining heavily. To our
dismay we saw no sign of either omnibus or carriage. However, a man was
coming up to us in a leisurely way with a broken lantern, and he
explained that the "'bus had not come because it was raining." He led us
to a very queer--apparently deserted--hotel, where the getting of sheets
for the narrow beds seemed to be an almost insurmountable difficulty;
and as to cases for the pillows, in sheer despair of ever getting any,
we had to use clean towels out of our bags in their stead. The
double-bedded room was adorned with a gallery of pastel portraits so wan
and faded that they looked by the faint gleam of moonlight through the
shutters like a procession of ghosts; and there were so many chairs in
Mary's room, and such an immensely long table, that it must surely have
been used by the ghosts as a dining-hall. Nevertheless, we slept
soundly, had a charming excursion in the morning, and a good, though
late, _déjeuner_ afterwards, for it chanced to be the drawing of lots
for the conscription, and the hotel was crowded by famished
officials--Mayor, _adjoints_, gendarmes, officers, etc. Of course there
was nothing for unofficial people like us but to wait and catch the
dishes as they left the important table, and appropriate what might
remain upon them. There was enough for us, and the wine was
excellent,--so good indeed that we thought of having a cask sent to La
Tuilerie. The great people having departed, we were able to talk at our
leisure with the landlady, but all of a sudden we became aware that it
was getting time to go, and asked for the bill. "Oh! there was no need
for a bill, she could reckon in her head--but there was no hurry." We
explained that there was some hurry, as the carriage we had ordered
would be at the door presently.

"Mais pourquoi? pourquoi vous en aller?" exclaimed the simple woman,
with an air of consternation; "est-ce que vous n'êtes pas bien ici?"

Bourg St. Andéol, where we stopped next, is a very interesting place. My
husband was particularly pleased with the little town and the Hôtel
Nicolai. Our arrival created quite a stir in the sleepy, regular routine
of the little bourg, and the doors and windows it can boast of became
alive with curious eyes as we passed along the deserted streets. In an
open carriage we were driven to Pont St. Esprit, and noticed the long
lines of mulberry trees on each side of the roads; the driver explained
that they are planted to feed the silkworms, and that in two months they
would be leafless. We took the steamer again at Pont St. Esprit, late in
the following day, for Avignon. In the morning of Sunday we all went to
hear High Mass in the Cathedral, then to the Palace of the Popes, and
round the walls. In the afternoon we visited the tomb of John Stuart
Mill, and my husband left his card at the house of Miss Taylor. We then
heard music in the open air, and saw the old bridge.

It was a very pleasant fortnight that we spent at Marseilles with our
relations, the only drawback being Gilbert's uncertain health, which
prevented him from going out much; though close to the expanse of the
Mediterranean, I suppose he had the feeling expressed in the preface to
"Landscape" in these words: "The lover of wilderness always feels
confined among the evidences of a minutely careful civilization."

Towards the end of the day, when the blinding glare of sunshine was
softened, we generally went to the Vieux Port, where there was an
uninterrupted succession of picturesque scenes among sailors of all
nations and ships of every description; or to La Joliette, to watch the
arrival or departure of the Chinese vessels and other curious craft. At
other times we walked in the Pare Borelli or on the Corniche.

A novel feature in our life was the frequent visits to the theatre with
our friends. It was most remarkable that my husband should take such a
sudden fancy to the Opera; he could not account for it himself, except
by noticing that "he felt at home in it." We invariably took _fauteuils
d'orchestre_, so that he only saw the musicians, actors, and
scenery--hardly any of the occupants of the theatre, except those in the
stage-boxes. It is a curious fact that in the space of a fortnight he
heard more operas than in all the rest of his life.

He wrote the greater part of the day in a very quiet room, which M.
Pelletier, who was well acquainted with his tastes, had fitted up
accordingly at the very beginning of our visit.

On our return we stopped to see Tarascon and Beaucaire, where we had
still some friends. In the last place the director of the gas-works
obligingly showed us through the house which had been my father's. We
also visited Nîmes, Orange, and Montélimart, giving a whole day to each
place. It was already very hot in the south, and the perfume of the
acacias in full bloom everywhere was almost more than we could bear,
especially at Montélimart. At Orange, after seeing the noble Roman
remains, we partly ascended the hill to see the Ventoux range of
mountains; then went on to Valence for the night. We were on board the
steamer at five in the morning, and had a delightful voyage to Lyons,
during which Gilbert took copious notes in the map-book he had prepared
on purpose. After resting a day, we went straight on to Chalon by boat,
and had a pleasant day with the captain, who invited us to _déjeuner_
with him on board.

On the whole, we were satisfied with our journey; but the information my
husband had collected on the way convinced him that the Rhône project,
as he had planned it, was utterly impracticable.

We were soon in great anxiety about our relatives at Marseilles, for we
learned that cholera had broken out there early in July. Gilbert,
without the least hesitation, immediately wrote to M. Pelletier,
inviting him and his children to La Tuilerie, where they would be safe
from the terrible scourge. Our brother-in-law readily availed himself of
the invitation for his children; but thought it his duty to remain at
his post, and set an example to the panic-stricken population.

The arrival of our nephews and niece from the very centre of
contamination did not tend to augment our popularity in the
neighborhood, and we were made to understand--very plainly--that the
house was tabooed, along with ourselves. Our milk from the farm just
opposite to our house was brought to us half-way, and deposited in the
middle of the road, where our servant had to go and fetch it--no one
amongst the inmates of the farm being sufficiently courageous either to
bring it within our walls, or to deliver it to a servant who had
approached "les Marseillais."

Ever since Richard had come home he had been steadily preparing himself
for his examination, with the help of his father. Every day they read
English poetry together, and Gilbert gave him all the necessary
information as to the meaning, rhythm, and structure.

In moments of relaxation he joined the family circle, frequently
enlivened by the presence of a young couple, M. and Mme. Pochon, who had
recently come to live at the schist-works, where the husband was
managing engineer. The lady had a charming voice, and used to sing in
the church with Mary, who played the harmonium. This led to an intimacy,
and with an additional singer and pianist in the person of my niece we
often organized private concerts, in which my husband took great
pleasure. There was nothing he enjoyed more than such private
recreation, except perhaps the satisfaction of taking trouble to make
things agreeable to others. Here is an instance among many.

On a fearfully hot day in August he overheard a _cantinière_ who,
talking to her husband from the top of a wagon which had just stopped
near La Tuilerie, was lamenting her inability to find a shady place for
the _déjeuner_ of the officers, who would shortly arrive. He saw at once
that he might offer these hot and weary warriors the unexpected pleasure
of a cool resting-place. So he went to the _cantinière_, and proposed to
have the officers' table set upon the lawn, under the shady elder trees.
The woman could hardly credit such a charitable offer, and warned him
that the fresh-looking grass would certainly suffer from it; but he only
smiled, saying that it could not be helped, but that he hoped to induce
the grass to grow again with copious watering.

The table was set, chairs were brought from the house, also live
charcoal for the portable stove, and we witnessed a very entertaining
scene from behind the shutters when the regiment halted.

The Colonel began to swear and scold at sight of the white, dusty,
sultry road where the _cantinière_ had stopped, and for a few moments
refused to listen to her explanations; but when he saw Mr. Hamerton
coming out of the garden gate to invite him inside with his brother
officers, he dismounted to salute him, and stood fixed in a state of
ecstacy before the inviting white table-cloth, looking so fresh and cool
between the green grass of the lawn and the green leaves of the trees.
The other officers shared this pleasant impression, and were profuse in
their thanks. After a short talk with the master of the house--who was
called away to his own _déjeuner_ by the bell--they drank his health,
and sat down with unfeigned satisfaction to their meal.

It was not only the lawn which was thus invaded; for there being in the
courtyard a deep well of deliciously cold water, the soldiers were not
slow to find their way to it, and after quenching their thirst and
filling up their _bidons_, they stretched themselves at full length upon
the ground wherever there was shade, either from tree or wall.

This general enjoyment of an hour's delicious rest amply compensated my
husband for the havoc done in the garden.

We were rather a numerous household then, at meal-times, with the
addition of my mother, M. Pelletier and his three children, my brother,
his wife and two little girls, so that when the youngest officer entered
the dining-room--as spokesman--to reiterate the thanks of his brother
officers, he felt abashed by so many eyes fixed upon him; still, he
managed to get through his duty--somewhat hurriedly--and soon after the
regiment was marching off; the men, now rested and refreshed, singing
lustily at the top of their voices, and waving their _képis_ towards La
Tuilerie.

Stephen arrived for the vacation towards the middle of August; but the
suspense in which we were kept about Richard's examination was most
unfavorable to the health of his father. At last there were great
rejoicings when a telegram conveyed to us his brilliant success. He came
out second on the list, the first being a lady--Miss Williams--of whom
he had often spoken to us in high terms, having been with her as a
student at the Sorbonne, and who has since become directress of that
most useful institution, the Franco-English Guild.

We were told that Richard was the youngest _agrégé_ in France, and of
course we were proud of it. Mr. Seeley wrote: "I heartily congratulate
you on Richard's great success. It is not often that a young man can so
speedily justify his choice of a career."

"Human Intercourse" was published in September, and sold well, in spite
of its cold reception by the Press. Mr. Hamerton did not allow
unfavorable criticism to disturb him much. There was only one kind of
attack that he did not bear patiently, I believe, and that was being
told that he had no _genius_. "I don't pretend to have genius; I never
said I had; then why make it a reproach?" he used to say.

There was a second edition as early as December, and I give here a
fragment of one of the numerous letters the author received, which may
prove that public opinion was more favorable to the book than the
critics:--

"You have given me some pleasant hours as I read and pondered over
remarks of yours in 'Human Intercourse.' It is not the first time that
you have tinted the current of my life. I hereby certify to my
gratitude, not that I am of any account in the world, but because it
seems to me a sort of duty, and because, were our positions reversed, it
would please ME to know that I was appreciated even by a stranger. What
you say about priests and women interests me deeply as a clergyman...."

The letter contained eleven pages of confidential talk, mostly about
personal experiences in the discharge of professional duty; clearly
showing that the subject had not been treated in vain in "Human
Intercourse."

There had been a serious strike at the schist-works of La Comaille
(close to Pré-Charmoy), and the hands, now that the winter was coming
upon them, were distressed and greatly disheartened. Mr. Hamerton tried
his best to mollify the engineer and to reason with the men, and make
them see that the strike could not bring them any advantage. At last the
workmen asked to be allowed to return to their work; but the engineer
refused to take back the promoters of the strike, among whom was the
husband of one of our former servants. The poor woman came in tears to
beseech her "bon Monsieur" to obtain M. Pochon's forgiveness, for if her
husband were kept out of work much longer her three little children
would have to starve. The landlord having already threatened to turn
them out, my husband had paid the rent of their cottage for a year, and
now he pleaded so warmly the cause of the deluded workmen to Madame
Pochon,--asking for her influence in their favor,--that together they
carried their point, and so gave comfort to several poor families. With
the exception of the two ringleaders, who had used threats and violent
language, all the hands were taken back again. Our former servant's
gratitude still survives; one of her children never fails to send the
united wishes of the family for the New Year, and the letters always
begin with, "Nos chers bienfaiteurs."

The great kindness and generosity of "L'Anglais" were so well known in
our neighborhood that the people had no hesitation in applying at La
Tuilerie for clothing, medicines, or help of any kind. Even the beggars
who came regularly, lingered after pocketing their penny in the hope of
seeing him personally as he crossed the courtyard or went out on the
road, for then--as an old woman confided to one of the maids--"On est
sûr d'une pièce blanche." He was entirely free from false pride, and
looked down upon no one deserving respect. One girl whom we had had in
our service for five years, and who only left us to be married, begged
as a great favor that Mary should be godmother to her child. He gave his
leave at once, being the first to recall how attached and devoted she
had been to our daughter when a baby. And when she called with her
husband, he always shook hands with them both, and offered them
refreshments.

He showed the same ready sympathy to the class of young authors and
artists in want of help and advice, trying to get them employment, and
helping them to improve their work. He often accepted for the
"Portfolio" articles which greatly increased his labors; for he had to
correct and to rewrite parts--if he perceived some promise of talent in
their authors. He also took the trouble of criticizing minutely numbers
of etchings and drawings, pointing out possible alterations which might
make them acceptable to the public, and by so doing he helped to form
and encouraged a great number of artists.

Mr. Seeley was anxious that the book on "Landscape" might be out in good
time for the Christmas sale, and explained the many reasons which made
it desirable; but although the author had done his best to be ready, he
began to doubt of the possibility. Having been anxious about it and
hurried, he became subject to painful attacks of palpitation. As soon as
Mr. Seeley heard of it he wrote:--

"Pray do not run any risk of ruining your health. Tell me exactly how
you stand, how much remains to be written. Then we will face the
position like sensible people, and consider what is best to be done. You
must neither risk your health by overwork nor your reputation by hasty
work. What a pity it is that you don't enjoy games! I find tennis such a
relief from worries. I have also a double tricycle, on which I ride
every morning with my garden boy. It is a capital exercise; the steering
occupies one's thoughts almost as well as a game. One can't think much
of business while going seven or eight miles an hour with the
probability that any considerable swerve will lead to an upset."

Gilbert sometimes went on a velocipede, and liked it, but did not
possess one at that time.

In November there was good news for the boys. Richard had been told by
M. Pelletier that a post at Marseilles would soon be vacant, and that he
might apply for it. He did so, and got it, whilst Stephen replaced him
at Poitiers, so that now they were both provided with good situations.




CHAPTER XVII.


1884-1888.

"Landscape."--The Autobiography begun.--"Imagination in landscape
painting."--"The Saône."--"Portfolio papers."

In October, 1884, all the five hundred large-paper copies of "Landscape"
had been ordered except fifty; but the last pages of MS. were not sent
off until January 30, 1885.

The author wrote to the publisher: "At last I have the pleasure of
sending you a page of MS. with 'The End' written upon it;" and as if
relieved from his task he went on to relate the following incidents:--

"There has been a curious attempt at assassination here yesterday. A
doctor named Vala was stopped by what seemed to be a nun, who asked for
a place in his gig. He stretched out his hand to take a parcel belonging
to the nun, took it, and then offered her his hand. He touched it,
thought 'That's the hand of a man,' whipped his horse, and drove off at
full speed. When at a distance he examined the contents of the parcel,
which turned out to be a loaded revolver and a dagger. He thinks the
project was to assassinate him _en route_.

"Other curious story.

"Night before last a strange man got tipsy in our village and began to
blab and talk. He asked for a bottle without a bottom, and for some
woollen rags. He was suspected of having a dynamite project, and the
mayor was fetched at one in the morning to look after him, so he
arrested him and took him to Autun at two a.m. On the way the man
coolly confessed that he was one of a dynamite gang of ten, and
threatened the mayor and the village when he got out of prison.

"So you see we have our dangers as well as you."

"Human Intercourse" was more popular in America than in England. Roberts
Brothers wrote: "We have been selling three thousand copies of 'Human
Intercourse;' does not that speak well for your popularity here? As yet
the pirates have left it alone, although the 'Intellectual Life' has
been pirated." Still, the author continued to receive many letters
testifying to the appreciation of the book by his countrymen. Mr. Wyld
said: "I have read 'Human Intercourse' from end to end, and intend to do
so more than once, taking and considering each essay separately."

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