The author had the satisfaction of receiving another letter from Roberts Brothers, dated July 21, 1871, in which this pa.s.sage occurs: ""Thoughts about Art" is quite popular; you have many very dear friends in this country, and the number is increasing."
In September of the same year Mr. Haden wrote, in reference to the projected "Etcher"s Handbook":--
"Your new processes interest me immensely, and I am glad you are going to give us a handbook on the whole subject. Let it be concise, and even dogmatic, for you have to speak _ex cathedra_ on the matter, and people prefer to be told what to do to being reasoned into it."
Ever anxious to improve himself, my husband had asked Mr. Lewes to advise him about his reading preparatory to the new book he had begun to write on the Intellectual Life. Here is the answer:--
"THE PRIORY, 21 NORTH BANK, REGENT"S PARK.
"_Nov_. 2, 1871.
"MY DEAR HAMERTON,--We so often speak of you and your wife, and were so very anxious about you during the war, that we have asked right and left for news of you, and were delighted at last to get such good news of you both.
"As to the books to be suggested for your work, partly the fact that no one can really suggest food for another, partly the fact that I don"t clearly understand the nature of your work--these perhaps make a good excuse if the following list is worthless. It is all I have been able to gather together.
"Littre, "Vie d"Auguste Comte."
St. Hilaire, "Vie et travaux de Geoffroy St. Hilaire."
Ga.s.sendi, "Vita Tychonis Brahei, Copernici."
Bertrand, "Fondateurs de l"Astronomie Moderne."
Morley, "Life of Palissy" (pa.s.sionate devotion to research).
Morley, "Life of Cardan."
Berti, "Vita di Giordano Bruno."
Bartholmess, "Vie de Jordano Bruno."
Muir"s "Life of Mahomet."
Stanley"s "Life of Arnold."
Mazzuch.e.l.li, "Vita di Archimede."
Blot"s "Life of Newton."
Drinkwater"s "Kepler and Galileo."
"All these are first-rate, especially the two last, published by the Society for the Promotion of Useful Knowledge, together with some others, under the t.i.tle of "Lives of Eminent Persons."
"The "Biographie Universelle" will give you, no doubt, references as to the best works under each head.
"We did not go abroad this year, but buried ourselves in absolute solitude in Surrey--near Haslemere, if you know the lovely region; and there I worked like a man going in for the Senior Wranglership, and Mrs.
Lewes, who was ailing most of the time, went on with her new work. This work, by the way, is a panorama of provincial life, to be published in eight parts, on alternative months, making four very thick vols. when complete. It is a new experiment in publishing. While she was at her art, I was at the higher mathematics, seduced into those regions by some considerations affecting my personal work. The solitude and the work together were perfectly blissful. Except Tennyson, who came twice to read his poems to us, we saw no one.
"No sooner did we return home than Mrs. Lewes, who had been incubating an attack, _hatched_ it--and for five weeks she was laid up, getting horribly thin and weak. But now she is herself again (thinner self) and at work.
"She begs me to remember her most kindly to you and to Mrs. Hamerton.
"Ever yours truly,
"G. H. LEWES."
Almost in every letter that my husband received from Mr. Lewes, he had this confirmation of what George Eliot had told him about the heavy penalty in health attending or following her labors.
Mr. Lewes had not mentioned his lives of Goethe and Aristotle, but they were ordered with the other books he had recommended, and I began to read them aloud to my husband whilst he was etching the plates for an ill.u.s.trated edition of the "Painter"s Camp," that he had always hoped to see accepted by Mr. Macmillan.
M. Pelletier had been promoted from Vendome to Lons-le-Saunier, and after spending a month of the vacation at our house with his wife and three children, now invited his host and family to go back with him for the remainder of the holidays. However, the boys only went, for their father was incapacitated for railway travelling, and the little girl May could not be persuaded to leave her parents, even to go with her cousins and her Aunt Caroline, whom she so much loved.
The nervous state into which my husband had been thrown back had produced a morbid sensitiveness to noise and to the sight of movement which isolated him more and more, even from his nearest friends, and during these last vacations he had seldom been able to take _dejeuner_ with us. In consequence he had a little hut erected near the river, _au buisson Vincent_, whither he retired almost daily, and to which I took or sent him his lunch; there he read, wrote, or sketched, surrounded only by silent and motionless objects. This morbid sensitiveness decreased with the light of day, and when the sun had set we generally joined him to admire the beauty of the after-glow fading slowly into twilight in the summer evenings. He always dined with us all, and after dinner he either listened to music, of which he was very fond, or even played a little himself on the violin, or walked out in company. We made quite a little procession on the road now,--six children romping about, my sister and her husband, my mother and my brother Charles, the master of the house and myself; and since it had transpired that my husband was not so well, some of his friends at Autun or in the neighborhood came as often as they could to make him feel less out of the world. He has said himself: "The intellectual life is sometimes a fearfully solitary one.
Unless he lives in a great capital the man devoted to that life is more than other men liable to suffer from isolation, to feel utterly alone beneath the deafness of s.p.a.ce and the silence of the stars. Give him one friend who can understand him, who will not leave him, who will always be accessible by day and night,--one friend, one kindly listener, just one,--and the whole universe is changed." In his case the friendly and intelligent intercourse kept up with his wife"s relatives alleviated in a great measure the sense of isolation.
The life in the hut, together with the botanical studies and the formation of the herbarium, suggested the plan of the "Sylvan Year," and thereby lent additional interest to these pursuits, though at that time his main work was the prosecution of "The Intellectual Life," now that he had finished the correction of the handbook on etching. [Footnote: Contributed to the "Portfolio," and afterwards published separately.]
This last work brought him many pleasant letters from brother artists, but I shall only quote what Mr. Samuel Palmer said about it, because it was his praise, and that of Mr. Seymour Haden, which gave the author the greatest satisfaction, coming from authorities on the subject.
"REDHILL. _January_, 1872.
"DEAR MR. HAMERTON,--Had I thanked you earlier for your "handbook,"
which came long ago, I could not have thanked you so much: for it is the test of good books, as of good pictures, that they improve with acquaintance. I had a little "Milton" bound with bra.s.s corners, that I might carry it always in my waistcoat-pocket--after doing this for twenty years it was all the fresher for its portage. Your invention of the positive process is equally useful and elegant; useful because the reverse method lessens the pleasure of work, elegant because the materials are delicate and the process cleanly and expeditious."
In this letter Mr. Palmer expressed his desire to publish a translation of Virgil"s "Eclogues" in verse, and asked for his correspondent"s advice about it. Another source of satisfaction to Gilbert was the increasing success of his works in America. In January, 1872, he had a letter from Roberts Brothers, in which they said:--
"We have mailed you a copy of "The Unknown River." It has proved a success, and has been generally admired. It is a charming book, and we should like to bring out a popular edition. "Thoughts about Art" is selling better than we expected--it has given a start to the "Painter"s Camp," which we are now printing a second edition of.
"We think you are getting to be well known and appreciated in this country."
Enclosed in the letter was a remittance for 49 8_s_., which proves that an author has need of a good many successes to pay his way; still, these remittances from America made a difference in Mr. Hamerton"s circ.u.mstances, and were exclusively devoted to the education of his boys. Though unambitious, he was not indifferent to the increase in his reputation, for he had written in "The Intellectual Life," "Fame is dearer to the human heart than wealth itself." He certainly cared infinitely and incomparably more for his reputation--such as he wished it to be, pure, dignified, and honored--than for wealth; his only desire about money, often expressed, was "not to have to think about it."
CHAPTER XII.
1873-1875.
Popularity of "The Intellectual Life."--Love of animals.--English visitors.--Technical notes.--Sir F. Seymour Haden.--Attempts to resume railway-travelling.
The dedication of "The Intellectual Life" was a perfect surprise to me when I first opened my presentation copy: the secret had been well kept.
I felt grateful and honored to be thus publicly a.s.sociated by my husband in his work, though my share had been but humble and infinitesimal--more sympathetic than active, more encouraging than laborious. Our common dream had been to be as little separated as possible, and he had attempted soon after our marriage to rouse in me some literary ambition, and to direct my beginnings. I first reviewed French books for "The Reader," and he was kind enough to correct everything I wrote; then he induced me to try my hand at a short novel, reminding me humorously that some of my father"s friends used to call me "Little Bluestocking." He took a great deal of trouble to find a publisher for my second novel, and was quite disappointed to fail. He wrote to encourage me to persevere:--
"The reviews of your first novel have all been favorable enough, but the publishers told me they had _never_ published a one-volume novel that had succeeded, and that they had now made up their minds _never_ to publish another, no matter who wrote it. I rather think they would publish your new novel, but I earnestly recommend you to try ... _I am quite sure_ you have something in you, but you want wider culture, better reading, and more of it, and the difficulty about household matters is for the present in your way, though if I go on as I am doing now we will get you out of that."
A copy of "The Intellectual Life" was sent to Aunt Susan, who received it just as she was going to visit her sister, Mrs. Hinde, whom she found in failing health, and who died shortly after. It was a new grief for my husband, to whom she had always been very kind. As soon as tranquillity was re-established in France, after the war and Commune, Mr. Hamerton had renewed a regular correspondence with his friends, and, being greatly interested in the technique of the fine arts, consulted those friends whose experience was most to be relied upon. Mr. Wyld"s letters are full of explanation about his own practice, as well as that of Decamps, Horace Vernet, Delaroche, and Delacroix. In one of them I find this interesting pa.s.sage:--
"I very much doubt if the talent of coloring can be _learnt_. I think it is a gift like an ear for music, which if not born with you can never be perfectly acquired (I, for instance, _I am sure_, could never have _perfectly_ tuned a violin). Doubtless if the faculty exists intuitively, it may be perfected, or at all events much improved by study and practice, but he that has it not from birth, _I_ think, can never acquire it."
Mr. S. Palmer, in a long letter also devoted to the technical part of painting and etching, turns to literature to say:--
"My pleasure in hearing of the success of "The Intellectual Life" is qualified only by the comparative apathy of the English. Of such a book one edition here to three in America is something to be ashamed of."
The sale of the book was rapid, both in England and in America, but the American sale continued to be incomparably the larger. As early as February, 1874, Roberts Brothers wrote:--
""The Intellectual Life" is a complete literary success in America; it has been the means of making you almost a household G.o.d in the most refined circles. We are now selling the fifth thousand. Our supply of the English "Chapters on Animals" [Footnote: Contributed to the "Portfolio," and afterwards published separately.] is all sold, and we are now stereotyping the book. We hope to sell a good many."
The motive which prompted my husband to write these "chapters" was purely his love and pity for all dumb creatures. He never could do without a dog--and the dog was always the favorite, being even preferred to the saddle-horse; and when out of compa.s.sion for its infirmities it had to be out of pain, his master never shirked the painful duty, but performed it himself as mercifully as he could. One of his dogs, which had long been treated for cancer, was at last chloroformed to death, his master helping the veterinary surgeon all the time. Another, who became suddenly rabid, and could not be prevented from entering the house, to the imminent peril of us all, he met and stunned at a blow with a log of wood, having no weapon ready. Poor Cocote was not sold when she became useless, but allowed to divide her old age peacefully between the freedom of the pasturage and the comfort and plenty of the stable, till her master asked the best shot of the place (a poacher) to a.s.sist him in firing a volley, which quickly put an end to her life, as she was unsuspectingly coming out of the field. And he only came to this decision when we left the country. Out of love or pity my husband was interested in all animals, and I believe that animals were instinctively aware of it. Dogs always sought his caresses; he used to remove _with his hands_ toads from the dangers of the road, and they did not seem afraid. He never was stung by bees, though he often placed his hand flat in front of the opening in the hive, so that they were obliged to alight upon it before entering. Of the rat only he had a nervous horror, but it remained unconquerable; he disliked the sight of one, and if he met one accidentally, he always experienced a disagreeable shock. When he tried to find out the reason, he was inclined to attribute it to the disquieting rapidity and restlessness of its movements.
In 1874 Mr. Hamerton began to write for the "International Review,"