Philip Gilbert Hamerton Part 21

"J'ai recu la visite de Haden hier, il m'a plus enseigne relativement a l'eau-forte en une demi-heure de conversation que dix ans de pratique ne l'auraient fait. Voici mes engagements:--

"Samedi, diner chez Leslie.

Dimanche, tantot chez Lewes.

Lundi, diner chez Pearce.

Mardi, " " Mackay.

Mercredi, " " Shaw.

Jeudi, " " Woolner.

Vendredi, toute la journee avec Woodward.

Samedi, soiree chez Marks.

Lundi, diner chez Haden.

Mardi, " " Constable fils:

"et il n'y a pas de raison pour que cela s'arrete, excepte mon depart pour West Lodge qui sera, je crois, pour mercredi."

However, he had to postpone his departure on account of a distressing and alarming disturbance of his nervous system. Mr. Haden recommended him to give up all kind of work immediately, which he did, and for a few days he only wrote short notes.

"NORTHUMBERLAND STREET. _Wednesday Morning_.

"Je suis toujours faible, mais je crois que je puis supporter le voyage aujourd'hui. Si j'etais une fois a West Lodge je m'y reposerais bien. Si je me sentais fatigue je m'arreterais n'importe ou. La surexcitation cerebrale est _completement pa.s.see_, mais je n'espere pas etre remis avant un mois."

From West Lodge he wrote, in answer to one of my letters:--

"Our present business is to look simply to the question, what will be most economical? I have no objection to any arrangement which will save my keeping a man, but I have a decided objection to that. [It was about the garden, one half of which I proposed to cede on condition of having the other half cultivated free of charge.] Any arrangement you make _that does not involve my keeping a man_ has my approbation beforehand.

"I saw Macmillan again before leaving, and now he is for bringing out the new edition of the 'Painter's Camp' in May. It will be a pretty little book, but I can't get Macmillan to go to the expense about ill.u.s.trations. Colnaghi will publish etchings for me, and after all the hints and instructions received from Haden, I feel quite sure that I shall succeed in etching.

"I expect to be at Pre-Charmoy in a few days, when I shall be delighted to see you all, my treasures."

Having returned to London, he writes:--

"I spent last evening with Beavington Atkinson, who was to have come to see us in France; you remember Woodward wrote about him. He and his wife are most agreeable people, and I like him really; there is something so intelligent and pleasing in his manner.

"Yesterday I went through Buckingham Palace to see the pictures. There is a fine Dutch collection. Then I went to the British Museum to see the Rembrandt etchings, and was accompanied by a collector, Mr. Fisher. This evening I am to spend with Haden again; he has a magnificent collection of etchings, and will help me very much with my book. So now I am sure of the right quant.i.ty of a.s.sistance in my work.

"I was with the editor of the 'Sat.u.r.day' this afternoon; nothing could exceed his kind, trustful way.

"Still, I wish I were back with you; but I shall hurry now and come back fast."

Two days later:--

"Je me sens de nouveau fatigue. J'ai cause aujourd'hui avec l'aubergiste de Walton-on-Thames, et il m'a dit qu'il nous nourrirait et nous logerait tous les deux pour 2 par semaine. On y est tres bien, il y a un jardin, et des etudes a faire en quant.i.te. Mr. Haden pense que la peinture ne fatiguerait pas autant le cerveau que la litterature.

"Si je t'avais avec moi, et si je restais plus longtemps, je n'aurais pas besoin l'annee prochaine de revenir au mois de juillet. Voila le reve que j'ai fait. Je viendrais a Londres une ou deux fois par semaine seulement, et je t'aurais la-bas. Je ne pense pas vivre sans toi, je meurs d'ennui."

The kind of life we led at Pre-Charmoy suited perfectly my husband's tastes, and he was soon restored to health. He would have been entirely happy but for pressing cares; still, thanks to his philosophical disposition, he contrived to enjoy what was enjoyable in his life. He was extremely fond of excursions in the country, and we often used to set off with nurse and children in the farmer's cart, to spend the day in some picturesque place, where he could sketch or paint. We had our provisions with us, and both lunched and dined on the gra.s.s under the fine chestnuts or oaks, so numerous in the Morvan, by the side of a clear stream or rivulet; for running water had a sort of magic influence upon Gilbert, and instinctively, when unwell from nervous exhaustion, he sought its soothing influence. We generally rambled about the country after each meal, and whilst he drew I read to him, leaving the children to their play, under the charge of the nurse.

So far we had taken upon ourselves the teaching of the boys, but for some time past I had perceived that it was becoming inadequate to their present requirements, and I told their father that I thought they should be sent to college,--any rate the eldest, who was nearly eight years old; but he demurred, not seeing the necessity for it. He had a notion that they could be much better educated at home, according to a plan of his own: Latin and Greek would be reserved for their teens, because it was a clear loss of time before, and they would be taught modern languages early, together with science and literature. To this I objected, that, if successful, it might be a very good education for boys who were certain of an independence, but that it did not seem a good way towards the degrees necessary for almost every one of the liberal professions. Besides, who was to teach the boys when he was away? and would he always find spare time to do it, and regular hours also? I was certain he would never be punctual as to time; only he did not like to be told so, because, being aware of this shortcoming, he made earnest efforts to correct it, and constantly failed. It was difficult to him to bear any kind of interruption, or any compulsory change of work--involving loss of time--and on that score very trying to one who wanted always to finish what he had in hand. He hardly ever came down at meal-times without the bell being rung twice, and often when he did come down, he used to say: "That bell was getting angry," and he was met with this stereotyped phrase from us: "And it made you abandon the refractory sentence at last!"

Well, he acknowledged there was some weight in my objections to home instruction, but "he could give tasks to be done in his absence, and correct them afterwards." I asked, who could help the young students when they were in a fix? and would they be always inclined to apply themselves steadily to their tasks without supervision? That was expecting too much, but it seemed natural to him to expect it, as study and work had ever been both a necessity and a pleasure to him. However, he yielded, but so strong was his disapproval of public school teaching as it was carried on, that at first he would have nothing to do with it.

I had to go to the princ.i.p.al of the college, and make terms and arrangements; the only condition he made was that the boys should come home every Sat.u.r.day night, and remain till Monday morning, and the same from Wednesday to Friday regularly, for their English lessons and for their health. I desired nothing better, and the princ.i.p.al agreed to it.

Whenever the boys complained of anything about their college life afterwards, their father used to say good-humoredly: "I have no responsibility in the matter; _I_ did not want you to go to college, you know--it was your mother."

Pre-Charmoy being four kilometres distant from the town of Autun, and five from the college, where the boys had to be in time for the eight o'clock cla.s.s, summer and winter, it became necessary to have some means of conveying them to and fro, for they were still very young,--Stephen a little over eight, and Richard hardly seven. The eldest boy went alone at first, but his brother soon insisted on going too. We decided to do like most of our country neighbors, that is, to have a little donkey-cart, because it would have been both inconvenient and expensive to hire the farmer's so frequently. Accordingly we bought a small, second-hand carriage with its donkey, and I was taught to drive; my husband would have preferred a pony, but I was nervous at the idea of driving one, although I had been told that it was much easier to manage than a donkey, and discovered afterwards that it was the truth.

The little cart proved a great convenience for my husband's studies, as he could start with it at any time, and there was no trouble about the care of the donkey, the servant-girls being accustomed to it from infancy--almost every household in the vicinity being in possession of this useful and inexpensive animal. There is a Morvandau song, known to all the little shepherdesses, in ill.u.s.tration of the custom:--

"Mes parents s'y mariant tou Me j'garde l'ane (_bis_).

Mes parents s'y mariant tou Me j'garde l'ane taut mon saoul!

"Mais quand mon tour viendra Gardera l'ane (_bis_).

Mais quand mon tour viendra Gardera l'ane qui voudra."

At first we had a swift little animal, which could not be stopped at all when he was behind another carriage, till that carriage stopped first.

It was an advantage in some cases,--for instance, when preceded by a good horse; but if the horse went further than our destination, one of us had to jump out and hold back the fiery and stubborn little brute by sheer force, till his sense of jealous emulation was appeased.

The load upon the cart, when we were all together, was found excessive for the animal, and my husband, who was always deeply concerned about the welfare of dumb creatures, decided to have a bigger and stronger donkey. He bought a very fine one, strong enough to pull us all, but he did it in such a leisurely fas.h.i.+on that he received the expressive name of "Dort-debout." This led my husband to write to me sometimes from London, after a hard day's work: "Here is a very short note, but I am like our donkey, je dors debout."

The editor of the "Sat.u.r.day Review" asked Mr. Hamerton to be present at the opening of the Paris Exhibition of 1867, and to write a series of articles on the works of art exhibited; then to proceed to London for a review of the Academy. He wished me very much to go with him, and I being nothing loth, we started together, and received in Paris the following letter from Aunt Susan:--

"WEST LODGE. _April_ 20, 1867.

"MY DEAR NEPHEW,--I am very glad indeed to hear from you, as I now know where to direct my long-intended epistle to you; your uncle thought you would not like to come to the exhibition in its very unfinished state, and I thought you would like to be at the opening of it, and so the matter was resting quite unacted upon. I grieve very much to tell you of the sad tidings we have of poor Anne Gould; there has been a consultation with her medical men, and they p.r.o.nounce her case very serious,--in fact, incurable. She grows thinner and weaker almost every week, and one lung is said to be affected. A confinement is expected in July, and I cannot but still hope that she may possibly come round again; but it has been sorrowful news. We shall be very glad to see you _both_ at West Lodge when you can make it convenient, and I do hope and trust we shall be able to enjoy the antic.i.p.ated pleasure of your company. You will have left home with comparative comfort, the boys being both at college, and, I expect, grandmamma with the little sister.

I was very glad when you wrote 'before _we_ can be in England,' as it a.s.sured me the little wife was not to be sent homeward from Paris, instead of accompanying you to West Lodge, where we shall be very glad to see her."

Nevertheless, I had to go homewards, for about three weeks after our arrival in Paris I heard that my little daughter Mary was ill with bronchitis, and I hastened to her whilst my husband was leaving for London. I was doubly sorry, because he was very reluctant to go alone; but although he felt a sort of instinctive dread of the journey he did not attempt to detain me. He had borne the sight-seeing very well, and the crowds, which he disliked; but it was mainly because he had been spared hotel life, for we had lodged with a former servant of ours, who was married at Pre-Charmoy, and now lived at La Glaciere, in Paris. It was by no means a fas.h.i.+onable quarter, and our lodgings left much to be desired in the way of comfort, but it will be seen how much he regretted it all when alone at Kew, where he had taken lodgings after much suffering from fatigue, over-work, and depression. Still, the first news from London was very gratifying:--

"Un mot seulement pour te dire que _toutes les huit eaux-fortes_ sont recues a l'Academie et bien placees. Ces Academiciens commencent a devenir gentils.

"Ce matin je suis alle de bonne heure a l'Academie, comme d'habitude; j'ai maintenant ma carte d'exposant dont je suis tres fier."

But after a fortnight he wrote:--

"PEt.i.tE CHeRIE,--Aujourd'hui je vais me donner le plaisir de m'entretenir longuement avec toi. Combien je prefererais te parler de vive voix. Je suppose que je suis tres bien ici; c'est-a-dire j'ai tout ce que j'aime materiellement: le bon air, la belle nature, un pet.i.t appartement d'une propriete vraiment exquise, une belle riviere tout a cote, et des canots a ma disposition. Et cependant, malgre cela je suis d'une tristesse mortelle, et j'ai beau me raisonner la-contre. Nous avons ete si heureux ensemble a Paris, malgre notre sale pet.i.te rue que je vois bien la verite de ce que tu m'as dit qu'il vaudrait mieux vivre dans n'importe quel tandis, ensemble, que dans des palais, et separes.

Si je croyais a l'immortalite de l'ame, je regarderais avec effroi la possibilite d'etre au ciel pendant que tu resterais sur la terre. Je crois que ma maladie est due princ.i.p.alement a la tristesse et je tache de lutter la-contre. Je vais faire quelques eaux-fortes et aquarelles dans mes moments de loisir pour m'empecher, autant que possible, de penser a ma solitude.

"J'ai eu un peu de fievre dans la nuit, et ce matin je suis calme, mais fatigue. Il ne faut pas t'en alarmer cependant; le voyage et l'exposition reclamaient une reaction, et elle arrive naturellement au premier moment ou j'ai la possibilite du repos. Quant au repos, je m'en donne aujourd'hui pleinement; je ne fais rien; mais je me reposerais mieux si tu etais ici pour me dire que tu m'aimes et pour mettre tes douces mains sur mon front. Je deviens par trop dependant de toi, je voudrais etre plus fort--et pourtant je crois qu'on est plus heureux etant triste a cause d'une separation d'avec la femme aimee que si l'on etait insensible a cette separation. Allons! je ne voudrais pas vendre ma tristesse pour beaucoup! elle s'en ira le jour ou je te verrai; en attendant je la garde volontiers."

Then follows a minute description of his lodgings, of Kew itself--the gardens, the river, the different boats upon it--and he concludes:--

"Tiens, voila que je redeviens un peu gai, ce qui est bon signe; peut- etre, quand j'aurai recu une lettre de toi cela ira mieux. Ainsi, ta-ta, good-bye; embra.s.se bien les chers enfants pour moi et dis a ma pet.i.te Marie que je lui rapporterai une pepem [for _poupee_, which she could not yet p.r.o.nounce clearly] ou autre chose de beau."

A few days later:--

"Je suis alle aujourd'hui au musee Britannique continuer mes etudes. Le systeme que j'ai adopte parait bon, et ca va bien. Je limite rigoureus.e.m.e.nt mes travaux en choisissant seulement la creme de la creme des planches.

"Je me suis promene ce soir au jardin de Kew; ces promenades me rendent toujours triste, parce qu'a chaque bel arbre ou jolie fleur, je me figure combien tu en jouirais si tu etais avec moi. Quand on s'est si bien habitue a vivre a deux il est difficile de redevenir garcon. Dans ces moments de tristesse je pense toujours a la separation eternelle, et au sort de celui de nous qui restera. Enfin j'apprends ici une chose qui me servira toujours, c'est que pour moi maintenant tout est vanite sans toi. J'ai un jardin Royal a ma disposition, des collections d'oeuvres d'art superbes, les plus jolis canots, une belle riviere, de bons livres a lire, du succes avec les editeurs et une reputation en bonne voie, et pourtant cette existence ne vaut pas la peine de vivre. Il est bon de savoir ces choses la et de se connaitre. a Paris ou notre existence materielle etait pleine d'ennuis, j'etais pourtant heureux. Il ne faut pas de ton cote etre triste parce que je le suis, du moins si tu peux l'eviter. C'est une affaire de deux ou trois semaines, voila tout. De mon cote je suis si occupe que je n'ai pas le temps de penser a moi- meme, et je travaille avec la regularite d'un homme de bureau. C'est lorsque je rentre chez moi que je souffre de ne point t'avoir.

"Quant a ma sante, elle va mieux. Je connais l'etat de mon systeme nerveux et l'effet que le chemin-de-fer lui produit. Aujourd'hui je n'en ai rien ressenti du tout. Quand je suis malade, la vibration et le mouvement des objets me font souffrir un peu."