Philip Gilbert Hamerton Part 24

He soon recovered his usual health, with occasional troubles of the nervous system; but he had grown careful about the premonitory symptoms, and used to grant himself a holiday whenever they occurred. Having been told whilst in London that novel-writing paid better than any other literary production, he now turned his thoughts towards the possibility of using his past experience for the composition of a story. It would be a pleasant change from criticism, he said, and would exercise different mental faculties. Very soon the plan of "Wenderholme" was formed, and we entertained good hopes of its success.

In the month of September, 1866, the wedding of my sister Caroline took place quietly at our house, Mr. Hamerton being looked upon as the head of the family since the death of my father. Although he prized his privacy above everything else, he was ready to sacrifice it as a token of his affection for his sister-in-law, and went through all the necessary trouble and expense for her sake. She married a young man who had formed an attachment for her ever since she was fifteen years old,--M. Pelletier,--and they went to live at Algiers, where he was then Commis d'economat at the Lycee. It was agreed that they should spend the long vacation with us every year.

There are a good many days of frost in a Morvandau winter, and the snow often remains deep on the ground for several weeks together; there was even more than usual in 1867, so my husband devised a new amus.e.m.e.nt for the boys by showing them how to make a giant. Every time they came home, they rolled up huge b.a.l.l.s of snow which were left out to be frozen hard, then sawn into large bricks to build up the monster. The delight of the boys may be imagined. Every new limb was greeted with enthusiastic shouts, they thought of nothing else; and, perched on ladders, their little hands protected by woollen gloves, they worked like slaves, and could hardly be got to eat their meals. But how should I describe the final scene, when in the dark evening two night-lights shone out of the giant's eyes, and flames came out of its monstrous mouth?... It was nothing less than wild ecstasy. Their father also taught them skating; there was very little danger except from falls, for they began in the meadows about the house, where they skated over shallow pools left in the hollows by rain-water or melted snow; but when they became proficient, we used to go to the great pond at Varolles. As my husband has said in one of his letters, all that was very good for him.

In January, 1868, he left again for London, and felt but little inconvenience on the way and during his stay. Knowing that I should be anxious, he formed the habit of sending me frequent short pencil notes, to say how he was. I give here a few of them:--

"LONDRES. _Vendredi soir_.

"J'ai ete tres occupe aujourd'hui au musee Britannique. Demain j'irai voir des expositions. Je compte partir dimanche pour Paris."

"_Samedi matin._

"J'ecris dans une boutique. Je vais bien. Je dine au Palais de Cristal avec un Club."

"_Samedi soir._

"Je vais bien. Pauvre pet.i.t Richard! embra.s.se-le bien pour moi; tu as du etre bien inquiete."

This was about a serious accident which had happened to our youngest boy. Whilst at play with his brother on the terrace, and in my presence, he ran his head against a low wall, and was felled senseless to the ground by the force of the blow; the temple was cut open, and his blood ran over my arm and dress when I lifted him up, apparently lifeless. The farmer's cart drove us rapidly to Autun, where we found our doctor in bed--it was ten at night. The wound was dressed and sewn up, and the pain brought back some signs of life. I asked if I ought to take a room at the hotel to secure the doctor's attendance at short intervals, but I was told that blows of that kind were either fatal or of little importance; the only thing to be done was to keep ice on the head and renew it constantly. The poor child seemed to have relapsed into an insensible state, and remained so all night. In the early morning, however, he awoke without fever, and was quite well in about three weeks.

I had asked my husband to take the opinion of an aurist about my increasing deafness, and he tenderly answered:--

"Serieus.e.m.e.nt je ne crois pas que ta surdite augmente. Avant de te rendre compte combien tu etais sourde, tu ne savais pas quels bruits restaient pour toi inapercus. Maintenant tu fais de tristes decouvertes; moi qui suis mieux place pour t'observer, puisque j'entends ce que tu n'entends pas, je sais que tu es tres sourde, mais je ne vois pas d'augmentation depuis tres longtemps et je crois que tu resteras a peu pres comme tu es. J'en ai parle aujourd'hui avec Macmillan dont une amie ete comme toi pendant longtemps et qui eprouve maintenant une amelioration graduelle, mais tres sensible. Tache surtout de ne pas trop t'attrister, parce qu'il parait que le chagrin a une tendance a augmenter la surdite. Quant a parler d'aimer mieux mourir, tu oublies que mon affection pour toi est bien au-dessus de toute infirmite corporelle, et que nous aurons toujours beaucoup de bonheur a etre ensemble; du moins je parle pour moi. Et meme si ta surdite augmentait beaucoup, nous aurions toujours le moyen de communiquer ensemble en parlant tres haut: en France nous parlerions anglais, et en Angleterre, francais."

He sympathized so much with my trouble that, unlike many other husbands, who would have been annoyed at having to take a deaf wife into society, he urged me to go with him everywhere, kindly repeated what I had not heard, and explained what I misunderstood. He always tried his best to keep away from me the feeling of solitude, so common to those who are deprived of hearing.

Just as I was rejoicing over the thought that my husband had prosperously accomplished this last journey, I had a letter from him, dated "Hotel du Nord, Amiens," in which he said he was obliged to stop there till he felt better, for he could eat absolutely nothing, and was very weak. The worst was that I dared not leave my poor little Richard yet, to go to his father: the wound on the temple was not healed, and the doctor had forbidden all excitement, for fear of brain-fever after the shock. I was terribly perplexed when the following letter reached me:--

"HoTEL DE L'AIGLE NOIR, FONTAINEBLEAU. _Mercredi_.

"Tu apprendras avec plaisir que j'ai regagne un peu d'appet.i.t hier soir. J'ai mange un diner qui m'a fait tant de bien que ce ne serait pas cher a une centaine de francs. Cet hotel est tres propre et la cuisine y est faite convenablement sans melange de sauces. Toute la journee de lundi a Amiens, j'ai vecu d'un pet.i.t morceau de pain d'epices. Le soir a 10 h. 1/2 j'ai mange une tranche de jambon. Je suis parti a minuit pour Paris ou je suis arrive a 4 h. du matin. Pour ne pas me rendre plus malade, je n'ai pas voulu rester dans la grande ville que j'ai traversee d'une gare a l'autre immediatement. J'ai pris une ta.s.se de chocolat et ecrit quelques lettres en attendant le train pour Fontainebleau qui est parti de la gare a 8 h. C'etait un train demi-express, mais je l'ai bien supporte. En arrivant a Fontainebleau je n'ai pas pu dejeuner et je n'ai rien mange jusqu'au soir quand j'ai bien dine. C'est tres economique de ne pas pouvoir manger. J'ai saute plusieurs repas, qui par consequent ne figurent nullement dans les notes.

"Hier soir je me suis promene un peu dans les jardins du palais qui est lui-meme vaste, mais c'est un amas de constructions lourdes et de mauvais gout, du moins en general. Cela me fait l'effet d'une caserne ajoutee a une pet.i.te ville. Les jardins, les arbres sont magnifiques. Je me trouve bien ce matin, mais un peu faible par suite du peu de nourriture que j'ai pu prendre depuis quelques jours. Enfin, je suis en train de me refaire. Je desire vivement etre chez moi, et j'y arriverai aussitot que possible sans me rendre malade. Embra.s.se pour moi les enfants et ta mere; a toi de tout coeur."

He reached home safely, but the fatigue and weakness seemed to last longer than previously, and insomnia frequently recurred. He did his best to insure refres.h.i.+ng sleep by taking more exercise in the open air, but it became clear that he must abandon work at night, because when his brain had been working on some particular subject, he could not quiet it at once by going to bed, and it went on--in spite of himself--to a state of great cerebral excitement, during which production was rapid and felicitous--therefore tempting; but it was paid for too dearly by the nervous exhaustion surely following it. It was a great sacrifice on his part, because he liked nothing better than to wait till every one had retired and the house was all quiet and silent, to sit down to his desk under the lamp, and write undisturbed--and without fear of disturbance--till dawn put out the stars.

He now changed his rules, and devoted the evenings to reading.

CHAPTER IX.

1868.

Studies of Animals.--A Strange Visitor.--Illness at Amiens.-- Resignation of post on the "Sat.u.r.day Review."--Nervous seizure in railway train.--Mrs. Craik.--Publication of "Etching and Etchers."-- Tennyson.--Growing reputation in America.

In the course of the years 1865-67 Mr. Hamerton had made the acquaintance of several leading French artists,--Dore, Corot, Daubigny, Courbet, Landelle, Lalanne, Rajon, Brunet-Debaines, Flameng, Jacquemart, etc. The etchers he frequently met at Cadart's, where they came to see proofs of their etchings; the painters he went to see for the preparation of his "Contemporary French Painters" and "Painting in France." Together with these works he had begun his first novel, "Wenderholme," and had been contemplating for some time the possibility of lecturing on aesthetics. I was adverse to this last plan on account of his nervous state, which did not seem to allow so great an excitement as that of appearing in public at stated times; I persuaded him at least to delay the realization of the project till he had quite recovered his health, despite the invitations he had received both from England and America. He continued to paint from nature, with the intention of resigning his post on the "Sat.u.r.day Review" in case of success, but now devoted more of his time to the study of animals, princ.i.p.ally oxen, as he liked to have models at hand without leaving home.

Desiring to be thoroughly acquainted with the anatomy of the ox, he bought one which had died at the farm, and had it boiled in parts till the flesh was separated from the bones, which were then exposed to dry in the suns.h.i.+ne. When thoroughly dried they were kept in the garret, and successively taken to the studio to serve for a series of drawings, of which I still possess several. As we had a goat, and sometimes kids, he also made numerous sketches from them, as well as from ducks, sheep and lambs, hens and chickens. There was also a Waterloo veteran who came weekly as a model, and who was painted in a monk's dress, which my husband used afterwards, and for a long time, as a dressing-gown.

This habit of sketching animals whenever he had a chance gave rise to some amusing incidents before our peasant neighbors knew that he "painted portraits of dumb beasts, as well as of Christians." Some farmers' wives, alarmed at the sight of odd pennies in the pockets of their offspring, accused them of pilfering, but on being told that the "gros sous" had been given them by "le pere anglais," came to our house to ascertain how and why; for, unlike the people of the South, they would not have tolerated begging. They were quieted by the a.s.surance that the money had been honestly earned by the children for holding their goat or donkey whilst its portrait was taken; nay, they even felt a little proud that an animal of theirs should have been thought worthy of such an honor.

Etching in all its forms was pursued at the same time with lithography and photography; even a new kind of transparent etching ground was invented by Mr. Hamerton, which made it possible for etchers to see the work already done upon a plate after having it grounded again for correction or additional work.

A strange incident occurred during this winter. My husband's rising reputation had, it appears, given to many people a desire for his personal acquaintance, or for intercourse by correspondence. The first desire brought him many unexpected visitors, the second quite an appreciable increase of work, as he hardly ever left a letter unanswered. To give the reader an instance of the extraordinary notions entertained by some people, I shall relate the true history of one visitor amongst others. Some letters at short intervals, from England, signed--let us say--Beamish, mentioned a mysterious project which could not possibly be explained otherwise than by word of mouth, and which might be both profitable and agreeable to Mr. Hamerton, if realized. He was asked to call upon the correspondent for an explanation if he should happen to go to London soon; if not, Mr. Beamish begged leave to come over and see him. Of course the leave was given, and the gentleman having written that on such a day he would be at such an hotel in Autun, Gilbert went to fetch him in the pony-carriage--for Dort-debout had tired out our patience, and had been replaced by a beautiful and energetic little pony called Cocote.

When we met Mr. Beamish, we found him a most prepossessing young man, of elegant manners and refined speech; in short, a gentleman. He begged me to allow his portmanteau to be placed in the carriage; and as I observed that he was not expected to dress for our family dinner, he answered that it only contained papers that he should want.

Two other friends, understanding English, joined us at dinner. The conversation was animated, but Mr. Beamish never hinted at the mysterious project. In the evening, engravings and etchings were shown to our guest, but failed to excite his interest, for he soon fell asleep on the sofa, and let our friends go without awaking. Unwilling to disturb him, we remained till nearly one o'clock, when I decided to retire, whatever happened afterwards; and I was so tired that after going to bed I never awoke till morning, when I asked my husband at what time Mr. Beamish had gone. "Gone," he answered; "why, I don't know that he has gone at all, for I left him after three, just where he was." I hardly dared peep into the drawing-room; however, it was empty; but when the breakfast-bell was rung, Mr. Beamish came in unconcernedly to have his share of the simple meal, during which he talked pleasantly and intelligently of his experiences in India, where he had spent the greater part of eighteen years. Nothing was said of the project, and after vainly waiting for some mention of it, my husband returned to his study, after letting Mr. Beamish know that he was not to be disturbed till eleven o'clock, for it was the time of his morning work. "Very well," answered our guest; "meanwhile I shall put my books and papers in order." At the same time he requested me to send rather a large table into the room where he had slept (it was the room in which his portmanteau had been put), and to tell the servants to be careful not to interfere in any way with what he would leave upon it, not even to dust, _so long as he remained with us_. I then believed that Gilbert had invited him to stay some time, but I was undeceived in the course of the day, and told that the mysterious project had been unfolded at last, and was a proposition that he should undertake a journey to Palestine in the company of Mr. Beamish, to join Holman Hunt, who was painting studies in the Holy Land. "But what made you think I was ready to undertake such a pilgrimage?" Mr. Hamerton had asked in great astonishment. "Because I read that you liked camping out," was the reply; "and thought also that, being an artist, you would be glad to meet with Holman Hunt, who, like you in the Highlands, works directly from nature. I thought, moreover, that, as I intend to go myself, you would be agreeable and profitable society."

Although my husband had declined to give the slightest consideration to this plan, Mr. Beamish still remained, and vaguely hinted that a still more mysterious project detained him at Autun.

He went on foot, alone, to the college, on three successive afternoons, begged to see our boys, and tipped them so generously that the princ.i.p.al thought it his duty to ask their father whether he had authorized these visits--clearly implying that he doubted the soundness of the visitor's mind.

We had learned in the course of conversation that our guest was of a benevolent and charitable disposition, and that he had spent much money in India in founding hospital-beds for poor women, whose sufferings he warmly compa.s.sionated. He was also full of sympathy for the Indian people, and spoke of their wrongs not without a certain degree of excitement, but still in a manner to arouse our interest. Altogether, although he was a self-imposed guest, we had already learned to like him, and were unwilling to remind him, with ever so little rudeness, that he was in the way. My husband said that his conduct might be explained by the fact that he had lived so long in India, where the dwellings of Europeans are often at great distances from each other, and where a visitor is always made at home and welcome; that Mr. Beamish was only acting as he had been accustomed to do for the greater part of his life, for he was still a young man of about thirty-six.

After about a week's stay, he began to talk of leaving us within a short time, but did not say when--that would depend on _certain_ circ.u.mstances. However, on a bitterly cold evening, with the snow deep on the ground, he requested to be driven to Autun, and took a friendly leave of us all without explanation. But the princ.i.p.al of the college related the following strange story to Mr. Hamerton:--

"Your friend, Mr. Beamish, whom I had met at your house, came here under pretext of seeing your sons, but called upon me, and asked point-blank if I would give him my help in a charitable deed of some importance.

'What is the nature of the deed?' was my first question. 'The salvation of a soul.' 'In what form?' I did not get a direct answer, but I was told that the idea had sprung from religious motives, and that knowing my strong attachment to religion--though it was the Roman Catholic religion--he hoped I should have sufficient moral courage to help him in his deed of mercy--in fact he had resolved to reclaim a fallen woman.

Vainly did I attempt to turn him from his generous but impracticable resolution. He threatened to act alone if I refused him the sanction of my presence, but he hoped that the Aumonier would see his action in its true light, and putting himself above popular suspicion, would accompany him 'to the very den of sin to offer salvation to a lost but _repentant sheep_.' It was useless to try to make him understand that it was impossible for the Aumonier to risk his character, even with the hope of doing good, and at last Mr. Beamish expressed a desire to meet him in my presence on the morrow. Our worthy Aumonier was horrified at the idea of the kind of sinners he would have to meet, and declined to have anything to do with the wildly charitable scheme."

The next news was brought to Autun four days later by the woman whom poor Mr. Beamish thought he had rescued at the cost of four hundred francs for her liberation from debt, and about two hundred more for decent clothing. He had taken her as far as Dijon, where he had left her in some kind of reformatory; but after enjoying the change, and with her purse replenished to carry her through the first difficulties of an honest life, she hastened back to the old haunt to gibe and jeer at her benefactor.

Another queer visitor was an English gentleman, past middle age, who could never find his way back to our house, but invariably appeared at meal-times in the dining-room of some neighbor, who had to escort him to Pre-Charmoy.

The opening of the Academy exhibition had come round again, and Mr.

Hamerton had to go and criticise it as usual; but after reaching Amiens, he felt so poorly that he resolved to send his resignation to the "Sat.u.r.day Review," and to return home as quickly as he could. Here is his letter to me:--

"HoTEL DU NORD, AMIENS. _Dimanche_.

"Bonne cherie.--Je suis arrive a Amiens samedi matin de bonne heure, ayant l'intention de me reposer un peu a l'hotel et puis de continuer mon voyage le tantot, mais en me levant j'ai senti que j'avais besoin d'un repos un peu plus prolonge apres les fatigues de Paris. Le plus ennuyeux c'est que je peux a peine manger quelque chose. Comme ce manque d'appet.i.t m'affaiblera inevitablement s'il continue longtemps et que l'affaibliss.e.m.e.nt amenerait probablement un mauvais etat du systeme nerveux, je crois que le plus sage serait de renoncer pour cette fois au voyage en Angleterre et de revenir au Pre-Charmoy comme un faux billet indigne de circuler. Mon intention est donc de retourner, et pour changer je prendrai probablement la ligne de Dijon, en m'arretant un jour a Sens pour voir Challard. [An artist who had copied some drawings of Jean Cousin for the "Fine Arts Quarterly Review."]

"Comme je te l'ai promis, je fais ce qui me semble etre le plus sage. Je reviendrai le plus vite que je pourrai sans hasarder ma sante.

"J'ai loue un pet.i.t bateau hier avec lequel j'ai explore la riviere d'Amiens--la Somme--en haut de la ville. Il est impossible d'imaginer rien de plus pittoresque. Il y a une grande quant.i.te de pet.i.tes maisons et baraques au bord de l'eau et je vais prendre la le materiel d'une eau-forte. J'espere que cette retraite n'est pas trop ridicule. Un bon general, dit-on, se distingue tout autant dans la retraite que dans l'avance; et comme par le fait il y a manque de vivres--puisque je ne peux pas manger--il me semble que la prudence conseille ce que les Americains appelaient 'un mouvement strategique' quand ils avaient ete battus."

"AMIENS. _Lundi matin_.

"Comme je n'avais pas encore regagne d'appet.i.t hier j'ai pense qu'il serait plus sage de rester ici encore un peu et je suis alle canoter sur la riviere.

"Mr. Cook avec une grande et charmante bonte m'a fait des remontrances: il me dit que le ton de ma lettre l'a blesse et que mes 'menaces' lui ont fait de la peine; qu'il n'a jamais manque de largesse envers ses ecrivains et que l'excedent de mes depenses en livres, voyages, etc., sera toujours defraye par la Revue. J'ai ete reellement touche de la maniere affectueuse dont il m'a fait ses observations auxquelles il a su joindre des compliments, en me disant que j'avais decouvert la meilleure facon de faire la revue des expositions et que mes articles sont precis.e.m.e.nt ce qu'il lui faut. J'ai repondu que quant a la peine que cela avait pu lui faire, je le regrettais sincerement, mais que les 'menaces' etaient tout simplement l'expression d'une resolution tres decidement prise, et dans un moment ou j'etais a la fois trop malade et trop presse pour proceder avec plus de formes.

"Comme ma promenade sur l'eau m'a fait du bien hier je vais la renouveler.

"Ton mari, qui te reverra bientot."