Philip Gilbert Hamerton Part 15

On returning home after my engagement I was greeted very affectionately at the front door by my dear guardian, who expressed many wishes for my future happiness; but her sister sat motionless and rigid in an arm-chair in the dining-room, and did not seem disposed to take any notice of me. From that time until long after my marriage she treated me with the most distant coldness, varied occasionally by a bitter innuendo.

I said nothing and bore all patiently, looking forward to a speedy deliverance. There was much in the circ.u.mstances to excuse my aunt, who was intensely aristocratic and intensely national. She was the proudest person I ever knew, and would have considered any marriage a misalliance for me if my wife's family had not had as long a pedigree as ours, and as many quarterings as the fifteen that adorned our s.h.i.+eld. Being a stanch Protestant, she was not disposed to look favorably on a Roman Catholic, unless she belonged to one of the old English Catholic families. Her ideas of the French nation were those prevalent in England during the wars against Napoleon. She had probably counted upon me to do something to lift up a falling house, and instead of that I was going to marry she knew not whom. It is impossible to argue against national and cla.s.s prejudices; the fact was simply that my wife's family belonged to the educated French middle cla.s.s. Her uncle was a well-to-do attorney in Dijon, [Footnote: Very nearly in the same social position as my own father. His daughter afterwards married the grandson and representative of the celebrated Count Francais de Nantes, who filled various high offices in the State, and was grand officer of the Legion of Honor and Peer of France. A fine portrait of him by David is amongst their family pictures.] and her father had gone through a perfectly honorable political career, both as deputy and prefect. My wife herself had been better educated than most girls at that time, and both spoke and wrote her own language not only correctly, but with more than ordinary elegance,--a taste she inherited from her father. As to her person, she dressed simply, but always with irreproachable neatness, and a scrupulous cleanliness that richer women might sometimes imitate with advantage. These were the plain facts; what my aunt imagined is beyond guessing.

Before my marriage I went to Loch Awe, to prepare the house on Innistrynich and furnish it. Of all strange places in the world for a young Parisienne to be brought to, surely Innistrynich was the least suitable! My way in those days was the usual human way of thinking, that what is good for one's self is good for everybody else. Did I not know by experience that the solitude of Loch Awe was delightful? Must not my Paradise be a Paradise for any daughter of Eve?

It was a charming bachelor's paradise the morning I left for Paris, a bright May morning, the loch lying calm in its great basin, the islands freshly green with the spring. At Cladich the people, who knew I was going to fetch a bride, threw old shoes after the carriage for luck. It did not rain rice at Loch Awe in those days.

I was an excellent traveller then, and did not get into a bed before arriving in Paris. There was a day in London between two nights of railway, a day spent in looking at pictures and making a few purchases.

At Paris I went to a quiet hotel in the Cite Bergere. I was utterly alone; no relation or friend came with me to my marriage. Somebody told me a best man was necessary, so I asked a French acquaintance to be best man, and he consented. The morning of my wedding there was a _garcon_ brus.h.i.+ng the waxed oak floor on the landing near my door. I had a flowered white silk waistcoat, and the man said: "Monsieur est bien beau ce matin; on dirait qu'il va a une noce." I answered: "Vous avez bien devine; en effet, je vais a une noce." It was unnecessary to give him further information.

The marriage was a curious little ceremony. My wife's father had friends and acquaintances in the most various cla.s.ses, who all came to the wedding. Some men were there who were famous in the Paris of those days, and others whom I had never heard of, but all were alike doomed to disappointment. They expected a grand ceremony in the church, and instead of that we got nothing but a brief benediction in the vestry, by reason of my heresy and schism. The benediction was over in five minutes, and we left in the pouring rain, whilst a crowd of people were waiting for the ceremony to begin. My wife, like all French girls, would have liked an imposing and important marriage, and lo! there was nothing at all, not even an altar, or a censer, or a bell!

However, we had been legally married at the _mairie_ with the civil ceremonial, and as we were certainly blessed in the vestry, n.o.body can say that our union was unhallowed. I shall always remember that benediction, for, brief as it was, it cost me a hundred francs.

[Footnote: Including what I had to pay for being called a schismatic by the Archbishop of Paris, or his officials.] A magnificent ma.s.s on my daughter's marriage cost me only sixty, which was a very reasonable charge.

Words cannot express how odious to me are the fuss and expense about a wedding. There was my father-in-law, a poor man, who thought it necessary (indeed, he was compelled by custom) to order a grand feast from a famous restaurant and give a brilliant ball, as if he had been extremely happy to lose his daughter, the delight of his eyes and the brightness of his home. Everything about our wedding was peculiarly awkward and uncomfortable. I knew none of the guests, I spoke their language imperfectly, and was not at ease, then, in French society; we had to make talk and try to eat. The family was sad about our departure, the sky was gray, the streets muddy and wet. In an interval of tolerable weather we went for a drive in the Bois de Boulogne to get through the interminable afternoon.

It was pleasanter when, a day or two later, my wife and I were looking out upon the sea from Dieppe. She had never seen salt water before, and as it happened to be a fine day the vast expanse of the Channel was all a wonderful play of pale greens and blues, like turquoise and pale emerald. There were white clouds floating in the blue sky, and here and there a white sail upon the sea. My wife was enchanted with this, to her fresh young eyes, revelation of a novel and unimaginable beauty. It was a new world for her, and that hour was absolutely the only hour in her life during which she thoroughly enjoyed the sea; for she is the worst of sailors, and now cannot even endure the smell of salt water at a distance.

The first thing we did in London was to go and see the Exhibition of the Royal Academy. My wife, like her father, took a keen interest in art, and had been rather well acquainted with French painting for a girl of her age. When she got into an English Exhibition she looked round in bewildered amazement. It was, for her, like being transported into another planet. In 1858 the difference between French and English painting was far more striking than it is to-day. French color, without being generally good, was subdued; in fact, most of it was not color at all, but only gray and brown, with a little red or blue here and there to make people believe that there was color. The English, on the other hand, were trying hard for real color, but the younger men were in that crude stage which is the natural "ugly duckling" condition of the genuine colorist. The consequence was an astounding contrast between the painting of the two nations, and to eyes educated in France English art looked outrageous to a degree that we realize with the greatest difficulty now. At a later period my wife became initiated into the principles and tendencies of English painting, and then she began to enjoy it. I took her to see the Turner collection in 1858, and that seemed to her like the ravings of a madman put on canvas; but a few years later she became a perfectly sincere admirer of the n.o.blest works of Turner. I may add that in 1858 my wife was already, in spite of her difficulty in understanding what to her were novelties, far more in sympathy with art generally than I was myself. She had lived in a great artistic centre, whilst I had lived with nature in the north, and cared, at that time, comparatively little about the art of the past, my hopes being concentrated on a kind of landscape-painting that was to come in the future, and to unite the effects I saw in nature with a minute accuracy in the drawing of natural forms. The kind of painting I was looking forward to was, in fact, afterwards realized by Mr. John Brett.

My wife's first impressions of London generally were scarcely more favorable than her impressions of English painting, but they were of a very different order. If the painting had appeared too bright, the town appeared too dingy. London is extremely dismal for all French people, whose affection for their own country leads them to the very mistaken belief that the skies, in France, are bright all the year round. My wife now prefers London to any place in the world except Paris; in fact, she has a strong affection for London, the consequence of the kindness she has received there, and also of the enlightened interest she takes in everything that is really worth attention.

We went straight from London to Glasgow, and thence to Loch Awe, which happened at that time to be enveloped in a dense fog that lasted two days, so that when I told my wife that there was a high mountain on the opposite side of the lake she could hardly believe it. In fact, nothing was visible but a still, gray, sh.o.r.eless sea.

I was now, as it seemed, in a condition of great felicity, being in the place I loved best on earth with the person most dear to me.

Unfortunately, the union of many different circ.u.mstances and conditions is necessary to perfect happiness, if happiness exists in the world. The element lacking in my case was success in work, or at least the inward a.s.surance of progress. There was our beautiful island home, in itself as much a poem as a canto of "The Lady of the Lake," with its ancient oaks, its rocky sh.o.r.e, its green, undulating, park-like pasture; there was the lake for sailing and the mountain for climbing, and all around us a country of unlimited wealth of material for the sketcher. Amidst all this, with a too earnest and painful application, I set myself to do what had never been done,--to unite the color and effect of nature to the material accuracy of the photograph.

MEMOIR

OF

PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON

1858-1894

CHAPTER I.

1858.

My first sight of Loch Awe.--Arrival at Innistrynich.--Our domestic life.--Difficulties about provisions.--A kitchen garden.

When Philip Gilbert Hamerton asked me to marry him, he conscientiously attempted to explain how different my life would be in the Highlands of Scotland from that to which I had been accustomed in Paris. He said how solitary it was, especially in the winter-time; how entirely devoid of what are called the pleasures of a metropolis--to which a Parisian lady has the reputation of being such a slave (he knew, however, that it was not my case); and already his devotion to study was such that he requested me to promise not to interfere with his work of any kind that he deemed necessary,--were it camping out, or sailing in stormy weather to observe nature under all her changing aspects, either of day or night.

Still, the picture he drew of our future existence was by no means all in dark colors, for with the enthusiasm of an artist he described the glories of the Highlands, the ever-varying skies, the effects of light and shadow on the mountains, the beauties of the lovely isles, and the charm of sailing on the moonlit and mysterious lake. He also made me acquainted with the numerous legends of Loch Awe (he had told them in verse, but I was ignorant of English), which would lend a romantic atmosphere to our island-home. He was so sensitive to the different moods of nature that his descriptions gave to a town-bred girl like me an intense desire to witness them with my own eyes; and when I did see them there was no _desillusion_, and the effect was so overpowering that it seemed like the revelation of a new sense in me. The first glimpse I had of Loch Awe, from the top of the coach, was like the realization of a fantastic and splendid dream; I could not believe it to be a reality, and thought of some mirage; but my husband was delighted by this first impression.

We reached Innistrynich shortly before nightfall, and I was taken to the keeper's cottage to warm myself, whilst the luggage was being conveyed across the bay to the house. Though it was the end of May, the weather had been so cold all the way that I felt almost benumbed after the drive; for, being accustomed to the climate of France, I had taken but scanty precautions in the way of wraps, believing them to be superfluous at that time of the year. My husband, having begged the keeper's wife to take care of me, she carried her a.s.siduities to a point that quite confused me, for I could not remonstrate in words, and she was so evidently prompted by kindness that I was fearful of hurting her by opposing her well-meant but exaggerated attentions. She swathed me in a Scotch plaid, and placed the bundle I had become in a cus.h.i.+oned and canopied arm-chair by the peat-fire, the smoke and unaccustomed odor of which stifled me; then she insisted upon removing my boots and stockings, and chafed my feet in her hands, to bring back a little warmth. Lastly, she hospitably brought me what she thought the best thing she had to offer, a hot whiskey toddy. To please her, and also to relieve my numbness, I tried my best to drink what seemed to me a horrid mixture, but I could not manage it, and could not explain why, and the poor woman remained lost in sorrowful bewilderment at my rejection of the steaming tumbler. Just then my husband came back, and after thanking the keeper's wife, rowed me over to Innistrynich.

It was then quite dark, and impossible to see the island, even the outside of the cottage; but when the door was open, it showed the prettiest picture imaginable: the entrance was brilliantly illuminated, and our two servants--a maid and a young lad ("Thursday" of the "Painter's Camp"), both healthy and cheerful-looking, were standing ready to relieve us of our wraps. The drawing-room had an inviting glow of comfort, with the generous fire, the lights of the elegant candelabra playing amongst the carvings of the oak furniture, and the tones of the dark ruddy curtains harmonizing with the lighter ones of the claret-colored carpet; an artistic silver set of tea-things, which my husband had secretly brought from Paris with the candelabra, had been spread on the table ready for us, and my appreciation of the taste and thoughtfulness displayed on my behalf gladdened and touched the donor.

I had never before partaken of tea as a meal, but it was certainly a most delightful repast to both of us.

After a short rest, my husband showed me the arrangements of the house, rich in surprises to my foreign notions, but none the less interesting and pleasant.

Our drawing-room was to serve as dining-room also, for the orthodox dining-room had been transformed into a studio and sitting-room; they stood opposite to each other. A little further along the corridor came the two best bedrooms, which, at first sight, gave to a Parisian girl a sensation of bareness and emptiness, corrected later by habit.

Everything necessary was to be found there,--large bra.s.s bedsteads with snowy coverings, all the modern contrivances for the toilet, chests of drawers, each surmounted by a bright looking-gla.s.s; even a number of tiny and curious gimcracks ornamented the narrow mantelpiece; but to a French eye the absence of curtains to the bed, and the unconcealed display of was.h.i.+ng utensils, suggested a _cabinet de toilette_ rather than a bedroom. This simplicity has now become quite fas.h.i.+onable among wealthy French people, on account of its healthiness: the fresh air playing more freely and remaining purer than in rooms crowded with stuffed seats, and darkened by elaborate upholstery.

On the upper story were four other rooms, used as laboratory, store-room, and servants' rooms; whilst on the ground-floor we had a scullery, a large kitchen, a laundry,--that I used afterwards as a private kitchen, when my husband provided it with a set of French bra.s.s pans and a charcoal range,--a spare room, which was turned into a nursery by and by, and lastly, a repository for my husband's not inconsiderable paraphernalia.

The first days after our arrival were devoted to sailing or rowing on the lake, to acquaint me with its topography; soon, however, we made rules to lose no time, for we had both plenty of work before us.

My husband, at that time, knew French pretty well; he could express everything he wished to say, and understood even the _nuances_ of the language, but his accent betrayed him at once as an Englishman, and there lingered in his speech a certain hesitation about the choice of words most appropriate to his meaning. As for me, my English had remained that of a school-girl, and my husband offered me his congratulations on my extremely limited knowledge, for this reason--that I should have little to unlearn. We agreed, to begin with, that one of us ought to know the other's language thoroughly, so as to establish a perfect understanding, and as he was so much more advanced in French than I in English, it was decided that for a time he should become my pupil, and that our conversations should be in my mother-tongue.

On my part I devoted two hours a day to the study of English grammar, and to the writing of exercises, themes, and versions. This task was fulfilled during my husband's absence, or whilst he was engaged with his correspondence; and in the afternoon I used to read English aloud to him, while he drew or painted either at home or out of doors. It was his own scheme of tuition, and proved most satisfactory, but required in the teacher--particularly at the beginning--an ever-ready attention to correct the p.r.o.nunciation of almost every word, and to give the translation of it, together with a great store of patience to bear with the constantly recurring errors; for not to mar my interest in the works he gave me to read, I was exempted from the slow process of the dictionary. He was himself the best of dictionaries--explaining the differences of meaning, giving the life and spirit of each term, and always impressing this truth, that rarely does the same expression convey exactly the same idea in two languages. He frequently failed to give word for word, because he would not give an approximate translation; but he was always ready with a detailed explanation, and so taught me to enter into the peculiar genius of the language; so that if I did not become a good translator, I learned early to think and to feel in sympathy with the authors I was studying.

If the weather allowed it, Gilbert generally took me out on the lake, and according to the prevailing wind, chose some particular spot for a study. These excursions lasted about half the day or more, and then some sort of nourishment was required; but as my ignorance of the language prevented me from giving the necessary orders, the responsibility of the commissariat entirely devolved upon him; and I may candidly avow that the results were a continual source of surprise to me. Being unacquainted with English ways, I presumed that it was customary to live in the frugal and uniform fas.h.i.+on prevalent at Innistrynich; namely, at breakfast: ham or bacon; sometimes eggs, with or without b.u.t.ter, according to circ.u.mstances; toast--or scones, if bread were wanting--and coffee. At lunch: dry biscuits and milk. At tea-time, which varied considerably _as to time_, ranging from five if we were in the house, to eight or nine if my husband was out sketching: ham and eggs again, or a little mutton--chop or steak, if the meat were fresh, cold boiled shoulder or leg if it was salted; and a primitive sort of crisp, hard cake, which Thursday always served with evident pleasure and pride, being first pastry-cook and then partaker of the luxury. I often wondered how Englishmen could grow so tall and so strong on such food; for I was aware within myself of certain feelings of weakness and sickness never experienced before, but which I was ashamed to confess so long as men whose physical organizations required more sustenance remained free from them. One day, however, the reason of this difference became clear to me. My husband had proposed to show me Kilchurn Castle, which he was going to sketch, and we started early after the first light breakfast, with Thursday to manage the sails. On turning round Innistrynich we met a contrary wind, and had to beat against it: it was slow work, and at last I timidly suggested that it might perhaps be better to turn back to get something to eat; but Gilbert triumphantly said he was prepared for the emergency, and had provided ... a box of figs!!!... yes, and he opened it deliberately and offered me the first pick. I could not refrain from looking at Thursday, whose face betrayed such a queer expression of mingled amus.e.m.e.nt and disappointed expectation that I burst out laughing heartily, at which my husband, who had been meditatively eating fig after fig, looked up wondering what was the matter. I then asked if that was all our meal, and he gravely took out of the box two bottles of beer and a flask of sherry, the look of which seemed to revive Thursday's spirits wonderfully. As for me, who drank at that time neither beer nor wine, and whose taste for dry figs was very limited, I hinted that something more--bread, for instance--would not have been superfluous. The opportunity for ridding himself of cares so little in harmony with his tastes and artistic pursuits was not lost by my husband, and I was then and there invested with the powers and functions of housekeeper.

This was the plan adopted for the discharge of my new duties. In the morning I studiously wrote, as an exercise, the orders I wished to give, and, after correction, I learned to repeat them by word of mouth till I could be understood by the servants. It succeeded tolerably when my husband was accessible, if an explanation was rendered necessary on account of my foreign accent; but there was no way out of the difficulty if he happened to be absent.

Ever since I knew him I had noticed his anxiety to lose no time, and to turn every minute to the best account for his improvement. Throughout his life he made rules to bind his dreamy fancy to active study and production; they were frequently altered, according to the state of his health and the nature of his work at the time; but he felt the necessity of self-imposed laws to govern and regulate his strong inclination towards reflection and reading. He used to say that when people allowed themselves unmeasured time for what they called "thinking," it was generally an excuse for idle dreaming; because the brain, after a certain time given to active exertion, felt exhausted, and could no longer be prompted to work with intellectual profit; that, in consequence, the effort grew weaker and weaker, till vague musings and indistinct shadows gradually replaced the powerful grasp and clear vision of healthy mental labor.

On the other side, it must be said that he was too much of a poet to undervalue the state of apparent indolence which is so favorable to inspiration, and that he often quoted in self-defence the words of Claude Tillier,--"Le temps le mieux employe est celui que l'on perd."

Aware of his strong propensity to that particular mental state, he attempted all his life to restrict it within limits which would leave sufficient time for active pursuits. His love of sailing must have been closely connected with the inclination to a restful, peaceful, dreamy state, for although fond of all kinds of boating, he greatly preferred a sailing-boat to any other, and never wished to possess a steamer, or cared much to make use of one.

Still, he took great pleasure in some forms of physical exercise: he could use an oar beautifully; he was a capital horseman, having been used to ride from the age of six, and retained a firm seat to the last; he readily undertook pedestrian excursions and the ascent of mountains.

He often rode from Innistrynich to Inverary or Dalmally (when our island became a peninsula in dry weather, or in winter when the bay was frozen over); but he found little satisfaction in riding the mare we had then, which was mainly used as a cart-horse to fetch provisions, for the necessaries of life were not very accessible about us. We had to get bread, meat, and common grocery from Inverary, and the rest from Glasgow, so that we soon discovered that the whole time of a male servant would be required for errands of different kinds. Not unfrequently was the half of a day lost in the attempt to get a dozen eggs from the little scattered farms, or a skinny fowl, or such a rare delicacy as a cabbage. Sometimes Thursday came back from the town peevish and angry at his lost labor, having found the bread too hard or too musty, and mutton unprocurable; as to the beef which came occasionally from Glasgow, it was usually tainted, except in winter-time, and veal was not to be had for love or money, except in a condition to make one fearful of a catastrophe.

There was also the additional trouble of unloading the goods on the side of the road, of putting them into the boat, to be rowed across the bay; then they must be carried to the house either by man or horse. Merely to get the indispensable quant.i.ty of fuel in such a damp climate, when fires have to be kept up for eight or oftener nine months in the year, was a serious matter, and my husband complained that he was constantly deprived of Thursday's services. He then decided to take as a gardener, out-of-door workman, and occasional boatman, a Highlander of the name of Dugald, whom he had employed sometimes in the latter capacity, for he knew something of boats, having been formerly a fisherman.

There were some outbuildings on the island; one of them contained two rooms, which Dugald and his wife found sufficient for them (they had no children), and this became the gardener's cottage. Another was used as a stable, and the smallest as a fowl-house and carpenter's shop, for now we had come to the conclusion that we could not possibly live all the year round on the island without a small farm, to provide us, at least, with milk, cream, b.u.t.ter, and eggs; so we bought two cows, and also a small flock of sheep, that we might always be sure of mutton--either fresh or salted. This did not afford a great variety of _menus_, but it was better than starvation.

Vegetables, other than potatoes and an occasional cabbage, being unseen--and I believe unknown--at Loch Awe, and my husband's health having suffered in consequence of the privation, we had the ambition of growing our own vegetables, and a great variety of them too. Dugald was set to dig and manure a large plot of ground, though he kept mumbling that it was utterly useless, as nothing could or would grow where oats did not ripen once in three years, and that Highlanders, who knew so much better than foreigners, "would not be fashed" to attempt it.

However, as he was paid to do the work, he had to do it; and it was simple enough, for he had no pretensions to being a gardener; the choice of seeds and the sowing of them were left to Gilbert, who had never given a thought to it before, and to me, who knew absolutely nothing of the subject. In this emergency we got books to guide us, bought and sowed an enormous quant.i.ty of seeds, and to our immense gratification some actually sprouted. Our pride was great when the doctor came to lunch with us for the first time, and we could offer him radishes and lettuce, which he duly wondered at and appreciated. Of course we had to put up with many failures, but still it was worth while to persevere, as, in addition to carrots, onions, turnips,--which grew to perfection,--potatoes and cabbages, we had salads of different kinds, small pumpkins, and fine cauliflowers. I soon discovered that peat was extremely favorable to them, so we had a trench made in peaty soil, where they grew splendidly.

Although very well satisfied on the whole with our attempt, we thought it absorbed too much of my husband's time, and he soon requested me to go on with it by myself, and frankly avowed that he could not take any interest in gardening, even in ornamental gardening. This lack of interest seemed strange to me, because he liked to study nature in all her phenomena, but it lasted to the end of his life; he did not care in the least for a well-kept garden, but he liked flowers for their colors and perfumes,--not individually,--and trees for their forms, either n.o.ble or graceful, and especially for their shade. He could not bear to see them pruned, and when it became imperative to cut some of their branches, he used to complain quite sadly to his daughter--who shared his feelings about trees--and he would say: "Now, Mary, you see they are at it again, spoiling our poor trees." And if I replied, "But it is for their health; the branches were trailing on the ground, and now the trees will grow taller," he slowly shook his head, unconvinced. When we took the small house at Pre-Charmoy, he was delighted by the wildness of the tiny park sloping gently down to the cool, narrow, shaded river, over which the bending trees met and arched, and he begged me not to interfere with the trailing blackberry branches which crept about the roots and stems of the superb wild-rose trees, making sweet but impenetrable thickets interwoven with honeysuckle, even in the midst of the alleys and lawns.

And now to return to the domestic arrangements arrived at by mutual consent. Upon me devolved the housekeeping, provisioning, and care of the garden, with the help of a maid, occasionally that of Dugald's wife as charwoman, and pretty regularly that of Dugald himself for a certain portion of the day; that is, when he was not required by my husband to man the boat or to help in a camping-out expedition. It was agreed that Thursday should be considered as his master's private servant.

CHAPTER II.