The solitude of our lives had also been considerably increased by the deaths of five Autunois friends, and by the departure of M. Schmitt with his family. My husband wrote to him:--
"Vous me demandez des nouvelles d"Autun, mais depuis votre depart nous y allons le moins possible. Je n"ai rien a y faire, presque plus personne a y voir. Je crains meme qu"au bout d"un certain temps cet isolement ne produise un facheux etat dans mon esprit. Je me plonge dans le travail, le refuge des gens isoles."
Shortly after Easter there came an attack of gout, this time in one knee, and Gilbert was naturally disturbed by the conviction that the disease had become more threatening now that it was going up. He became more alive to the difficulties of our present conditions of existence in the country, and more willing to consider the desirability of a change.
The business of the "Portfolio" would be so much more easily and promptly transacted if he were in Paris; correspondence with England so much more rapid, and the length of journeys to London diminished so appreciably that all these considerations were of great weight in the final decision, as well as others of a different nature.
I could not hope to hide from Gilbert the void left in my life by the loss of one of my sons, and the absence of a daughter who had never left me before for any length of time; nor the sorrowful recollections incessantly awakened by the surrounding scenes and objects, and he began to think that to break the chain of such painful a.s.sociations might be beneficial to me. This, I believe, dictated his letter of May 8 to Mary, in which he told her that she might make serious inquiries for a house, as he had definitely decided to go and live near Paris.
Mr. Seeley was very glad to hear that the editor of the "Portfolio"
would be nearer to England; he said: "I hope you will get comfortably settled in the suburbs of Paris. If I may judge by my own experience I do not think you will regret the change. I have never done so for a moment, although I was fond of Kingston."
Since he had been last at Burnley, and had seen again the pictures painted at Sens for Mr. Handsley, my husband had been dissatisfied with them. The development of knowledge, skill, and the critical faculty made him intolerant of the shortcomings of that early period, and hopeful of doing better work now. So he wrote to Mr. Handsley, and proposed to paint him two new pictures to replace the old ones. In the reply he was begged to think of no such thing, as although the pictures might not be quite satisfactory to him, the owner valued them as among the earliest productions of the artist. But Gilbert insisted on being allowed to replace at least the view of Sens by another subject--already begun and about which he felt hopeful--and finally it was left to him to do as he liked.
It is a curious thing that, feeling as he did the pressure of work, he should have been always ready to undertake some additional task. At that moment, when he had so little spare time, he had promised (for an indefinite date, it is true), a picture of Mont Beuvray for M. Bulliot, and others of Pre-Charmoy for Alice Gindriez, his sister-in-law; Mary also was to have her share. The pictures intended for Alice Gindriez had been painted several times over, and destroyed, and the one for Mr.
Handsley had already pa.s.sed through various changes of effect, but it looked very promising. The artist intended to send it to the Salon, and had even ordered the frame; but our removal having interrupted painting for a long time, it remained unfinished; though it was taken up again at intervals.
It is my belief that artistic work, in spite of its disappointments, proved a relief and a distraction to my husband; but it is much to be regretted that his own standard should have been so high, for it prevented him from completing and keeping many etchings and pictures which, if not perfect, still possessed great charms. It is also a subject for regret that he should have been led to undertake large pictures of mountain scenery--so difficult to render adequately. If the time spent in fighting against these difficulties had been bestowed upon smaller canvases and less ambitious subjects, he would undoubtedly have succeeded in forming quite a collection. The greater part of his studies are graceful in composition, harmonious in color, tender and true in sentiment--why should not the pictures have possessed the same qualities? The main reason for his failing to express himself in art, is that he was too much attracted by the sublime in Nature, and that the power to convey the impression of sublimity has only been granted to the greatest among artists.
In May there came a triumphant letter from Mary saying that she had discovered the _very_ house wanted by her father, uniting in incredible perfection every one of the conditions he had laid down. Once, being hard pressed to give his consent to a change of residence, he had playfully spread a plan of Paris on the table, and had stuck a pin in it, saying at the same time: "When you find me a suitable house _there_, in this situation and at that distance from you, I promise to take it."
It was considered as a joke, but Mary now affirmed that the Villa Clematis was at the exact distance from the Rue de la Tour (where she lived) that her father had mentioned. Moreover, the roads in the avenues leading from Clematis to Pa.s.sy were excellent for a velocipede, or he could reach her in a charming walk of less than an hour--through the Bois de Boulogne--and by rail three minutes only were required from the station of Boulogne to that of Pa.s.sy. The rent was moderate, and although higher than our present one, would still be within our means, if it were taken into consideration that neither horse nor carriage would be necessary.
The villa was in the Parc des Princes, which offered several advantages.
No shops or factories of any kind being allowed within the park, its peacefulness was never disturbed by the noise of traffic. The houses, which varied in sizes from the simple ordinary villa to the hotel or chateau, were each surrounded by a garden, small or large; and long avenues of fine trees so encircled the park that its existence was not much known outside. Quite close to it, however, was the town of Boulogne, with its well-provided market and shops, and at a distance of a few minutes the _chemin-de-fer de ceinture_, a line of tramways, one of omnibuses, and the steamboats not very far off. Clematis had a very _small_ garden--a recommendation to my husband--but was still sufficiently isolated from the neighboring villas by their own grounds on each side. There was a veranda looking over the little garden, and a large balcony over the veranda; the dining and drawing-rooms were divided by double folding doors, and both had access to the veranda by _porte-fenetres_; the low and wide marble chimney-pieces were surmounted by plate-gla.s.s windows affording a sight of trees and flowers, and giving a most light and cheerful effect to the rooms. There were several well-aired bedrooms, and under the house vaulted cellars to keep it healthy and dry.
Such was the description sent us, which we found perfectly accurate when we visited the house the very day of our arrival at Pa.s.sy, on June 1, 1891. The diary says about it: "Went to Boulogne to see the Villa Clematis. On the whole pleased with it." As for me, I was charmed with it after all the inconveniences I had had to put up with, hitherto, in our rough country houses.
We had been told that the rents were low at Billancourt, and we went there to ascertain, but we did not like the horrid state of the roads, nor the unfinished streets, the result of house-building all over the place.
We also saw Vanves and the Chateau d"Issy, in which there were two pavilions to let. Gilbert"s fancy was so much taken by one of them that I began to dread he might want to live in it. He wrote in the diary: "The place seemed curious and romantic. Three very fine lofty rooms, a number of small ones. Plenty of s.p.a.ce. Not much convenience; wife not at all pleased with it." It would have been much worse than anything I had experienced before. The house was dark, being surrounded and over-topped by a small but dense park climbing up an eminence above it; all the rainwater coming down this slope remained in stagnant pools about the lower story, the stones of which were of a dull and dirty green, being covered with moss. There was a queer circuitous kitchen round the base of the stairs, and the dishes prepared in it would have had to be carried up the stairs through an outside pa.s.sage before arriving on the dining-room table. Then I wondered how the "fine, lofty rooms" (damp with moisture and cold with tiled floors) could be warmed in winter, and also lighted; for they all looked upon the tree-clad hill rising up hardly a few feet from the windows. All that was nothing to Gilbert, who only saw in perspective so many s.p.a.cious studios and workrooms. At last I noticed that a paved road wound round the outside of the pavilion, and just as I was pointing it out, there came several heavily laden carts thundering along, and shaking the whole building quite perceptibly. My husband had enough of it after that, and I rejoiced inwardly at the opportune appearance of those carts. The day after, the diary says: "Went in the afternoon to Sevres. Found the place divided into two parts: the lower, which smells badly, and the upper, which is all but inaccessible, being up a steep hill. Renounced Sevres."
Besides looking about for a house, we went frequently to the Salons, there being two now, and my husband regularly continued his work. Mr.
Seeley wrote: "The quickness with which your letters come gives me a pleasant feeling as regards the future."
To my inexpressible delight "Clematis" was chosen for our future abode, after other fruitless researches; indeed, in my opinion it was impossible to find anything better suited to our wants--and what sounds almost incredible, the situation of the Parc des Princes was found to be exactly where Gilbert had p.r.i.c.ked the pin in the plan of Paris.
The little garden looked very pretty now in June, with the pillars of the veranda all blue with flowers of the climbing clematis, and the cornice loaded with the pink and white bouquets of roses. The wild clematis, Virginia creeper, and honeysuckle clothed the trunks of every tree, whilst their roots were hidden by flowers and ferns of various kinds.
Another pleasant feature of the park was the quant.i.ty of singing birds; there were larks, blackcaps, white-throats, and blackbirds, no doubt attracted by the security and peace they enjoyed all the year round--no shooting being allowed either in the park or in the Bois de Boulogne.
My husband wished to appropriate all the upper story of Clematis to his work, so as to have within easy reach everything he wanted for it, and at the same time to escape from all household noises. The large middle room with the balcony would be his study and atelier, only he required more light for painting, and a tall window was made for him. One of the small rooms was to be a laboratory, the other a sort of storeroom for papers, panels, frames, canvases, colors, etc., and one of the garrets a joiner"s shop. Bookcases were to be placed against all the walls of the studio, which would serve as a library at the same time.
CHAPTER XX.
1891-1894.
Removal to Paris.--Interest in the Bois de Boulogne.--M. Vierge.--"Man in Art."--Contributions to "Scribner"s Magazine."--New form of "The Portfolio."--Honorary degree.--Last Journey to London.--Society of Ill.u.s.trators.--Illness and death.
We were no sooner home again than the transformation of my husband"s study and laboratory furniture began. He had carefully taken all the necessary measurements, and he now set two joiners to work under his direction.
Of course we had some months of discomfort and fatigue, with the packing up and the sale which preceded our departure. At one time I was almost in despair of ever getting through, Gilbert being so very exacting about the packing that we had to wrap up each single book separately, and to fold up carefully every sheet or bit of paper without creases. It was one of his characteristics, this respectful care he took of books and papers; it went so far that he could hardly bring himself to destroy waste-paper; and when he had not quite filled a page with his writing, he would cut off the white piece and lay it aside in a drawer for further use; nay more, after making use of these fragments of paper for notes which had been copied out, he drew a line of red or blue pencil across the writing, and returned the paper to another drawer to be used _on the other side_. And it was not for the sake of economy, for he was frequently indulging in the purchase of note-books, pocket-books, memorandum-books, etc. No; it was a sort of instinctive respect. If any one held a book carelessly, or let it fall, he was absolutely miserable, and could not refrain from remonstrating. When we unpacked, he directed a man to fold up the papers which had been used as wrappers, and when I told him that the papers were not worth the man"s wages and had better be thrown into the street, he looked surprised, and reluctantly allowed them to be stuffed into the empty boxes; but be could not bring himself to remain while it was being done.
It was hard to break away from the a.s.sociations of so many years, and the last meal we took _tete-a-tete_ in the dining-room, emptied of all its furniture except a small table and two chairs, was a melancholy one.
I swallowed many a tear, and Gilbert"s voice was somewhat tremulous when he attempted to talk.
Roberts Brothers had inquired early in the year if Mr. Hamerton had decided about a new book, and had been answered in the affirmative. They now said: "We hasten to reply to your query. Yes, we think "The Quest of Happiness" an admirable t.i.tle for a book destined for the popular heart--so happy that it will of itself sell it. Don"t meditate about doing it too long."
Messrs. A. and C. Black had also proposed that Mr. Hamerton"s articles for the "Encyclopaedia Britannica" should be revised and enlarged so as to make an interesting and valuable "Hand-book to Drawing and Engraving," and the author had agreed to undertake the work. They were so considerate as to send a copy of the "Encyclopaedia" to the writer, who had long desired to possess it, and who valued it as a treasure. He had a special bookcase made for it, with many divisions, to preserve the volumes from too much rubbing, and was pleased with their handsome appearance in his library.
A letter received in the autumn may offer some interest to the reader.
It tells of a rather curious occurrence. The writer had been occasionally in correspondence with the author of "Wenderholme," and, living in Lancashire, had greatly appreciated the accuracy of the descriptions and characters in that locality. Two years before he had discovered "Thursday," and under his guidance had visited the site of the first camp at Widdup, and noted the changes; now he wrote again, giving an account of his experiences during a little visit to the Bronte country, and explaining at some length that he was "driven by bad weather to the "house" (you will remember the sense in which the word is used in the district) occupied by the wrangling drunkard. The talk turning upon a hut which had been erected by a _mon_ through Halifax for the grouse-shooting, evoked a reminiscence from the only (relatively) sober member of the party, of another mon--a hartist--who, aboon thirty year sin", built a hut at Widdup, and hed a gurt big dog, and young h.e.l.liwell, ower at Jerusalem, wor then a lad, and used to bring him (the mon) milk, and in the end gat ta"en on as sarvant, and went wi" him to Scotland and all ower--you may imagine my delight....
"I was sorry to hear that Thursday was not in very good health. He is, however, married, and the proud father of a little girl--Mary Alice. He seems very comfortable, and has promised me a photograph of himself by way of a frontispiece to my copy of the "Painter"s Camp."
"I trust I am not boring you; but I thought that you might like to know that you and your encampment are still remembered in the district."
It always pleased Gilbert to have news of the people and places a.s.sociated in his mind and affections with his youth, and his interest in them never grew cold with years.
Our new installation at Clematis was much simplified by the fact that everything from La Tuilerie had been sent in advance.
In order not to keep Gilbert too long from his work, the study was first arranged, and he was well pleased with it; indeed, he said he had never been so conveniently or comfortably established "for his work" before; but still I saw, with pain, that he looked depressed in spite of himself.
New Year"s Day saw us established in the new house, and regular habits of work resumed.
Having two spare bedrooms, our children came to use them during the Christmas holidays, and we had some pleasant meetings with M. Pelletier and his family. It was by a sort of tacit understanding that almost every Sunday we lunched, in turn, at each other"s houses,--once at Clematis, then at Madame Halliard"s, and afterwards at M. Pelletier"s.
After lunch we had a long walk either in the Bois de Boulogne, Parc de St. Cloud, Jardin du Luxembourg, or Jardin des Plantes; but although Gilbert enjoyed these strolls, they did not make up for the loss of the country; neither did the Seine replace the Saone, and Mr. Seeley said: "I am sorry the Seine is not what it ought to be. You will miss your old amus.e.m.e.nt of sailing, for which steaming will be a poor subst.i.tute."
We all tried to find something that might take his fancy, and we went to see the Marne. He said it afforded refreshing and pretty scenes; but he was not enthusiastic about its character. I plainly saw that what I had feared had come to pa.s.s--namely, that this new way of life did not suit him so well as the old, and that, despite the greater facilities, he did not seem to work to his own satisfaction, and felt dull. This lasted for some time. Mr. Seeley humorously teased him about it, and suggested that he should write for an American magazine an article on "The Dulness of Paris." He went on: "If you could only run over here to roam about our Kentish hills, you would soon be all right again. They are covered with millions of wood anemones, violets, primroses, cuckoo flowers, and blue-bells; and the low ground is gay with marsh-marigolds." Alas! the Bois offered all this in profusion, but for flowers Gilbert never really cared; he merely appreciated their _valeur_ in the harmony of a landscape. He thus explained his feelings, in answer to Mr. Seeley:--
"My complaints about the dulness of Paris refer to the peculiar state of mind the place always induces in myself, that is, _ennui_. Now, the _ennuye_ state of mind is the worst possible for a writer, because his interest in things ought always to remain keen and lively; he ought to have the intelligence of a man with the interest of a child. I believe Paris to be, on the whole, the most endurable of great cities, that in which the disagreeables of such places are most successfully palliated.
For instance, I can go from here to the Louvre in magnificent avenues all the way. But, for a writer, it is not enough to find life endurable; he ought to be keenly interested. My life at Autun was pleasant and refreshing; at Loch Awe it was an enchantment. However, I did not come here for my pleasure."
And work was crowding upon him; besides "Man in Art," which had been put aside since the interruption necessitated by the removal, the editor of the "Forum," Mr. Walter H. Page, asked for an article on the "Effects on Popular Education of Great Art Collections." He said: "I am glad to be able to tell you that some of the best American newspapers have discussed your article on the "Learning of Languages," and that I have many evidences of the appreciation of a large number of our most cultivated people."
The editor of the "Ill.u.s.trated London News" also wished for a series of articles on "French Life," and was very sorry that Mr. Hamerton could not undertake them for want of time, and the publisher of the "Portfolio" would have been pleased to get reviews of the annual Salons from the editor"s pen.
Early in the spring, as soon as the weather permitted it, we began to go regularly with M. and Mme. Raillard to the prettiest places in the neighborhood of Paris to spend the Thursdays and Sundays. We were frequently joined by the Pelletier family, and had picnics together in sheltered nooks. We started early in the morning, carried our provisions with the exception of beer, wine, and bread, which could always be bought anywhere, and roamed about or rested till the end of the day. In this pleasant and independent manner we saw St. Germain,--the forest and chateau,--by which my husband was much impressed; the lakes and Bois de Vincennes; the park at Marly, L"Yvette; the mills of Meaux, St. Remy: the Chateau de Chevreuse, Bougival, Ville d"Avray, La Celle St. Cloud, La Terra.s.se de Meudon, Le Vesinet, Nogent-sur-Marne; the ponds at Garches, L"Abbaye des Vaux-de-Cernay, Mareuil-Marly, Melun, and L"Etang de St. Cucufa, with its surroundings of luxuriant vegetation and n.o.ble trees.
These walks in the country--much more of the real country than my husband had ever expected to find so near Paris--began to reconcile him to his new life; but what helped most towards this reconciliation was the Bois de Boulogne, with its hidden charms and beauties, which he had the pleasure of discovering for himself, never having heard of them. For the parts of the Bois best known and always offered to admiration are the most artificial, and the resorts of fashion, equipages, and crowds; the cascade, the lakes, the Allee des Acacias, the Pre-Catelan, and La Grande Pelouse, while there are enough solitary nooks and unfrequented alleys, thick underwoods, open vistas, and groups of graceful and handsome trees to interest a lover of landscape for miles and miles, without any other disturbance than a chance meeting with a timid rabbit or a curious deer.
No sooner had Gilbert found out that there existed in the Bois real and extensive woodland scenery--almost untrodden and unexplored, than it became a pleasure to start on his tricycle, followed by his dog, for an early ride under the dewy branches, in the light and fragrant mist rising from the moist mosses and wild-flowers under the first rays of the sun. From these healthy rides he returned to his first _dejeuner_ much exhilarated, having breathed fresh air without the sensation of confinement so painful to him. Gradually he came across various scenes which he felt attracted to paint, and then his liking for the Bois was formed. There were among others, La Mare d"Auteuil, the incomparable group of grand old oaks, a single branch of which would have made a fine tree; the ponds of Boulogne; the varied views of the Seine, with the gay and sunny slopes from the walks running parallel to the river. Then the mill and its surrounding fields, quiet at times with browsing cows knee-deep in the rich gra.s.s, or at other times alive with merry mowers and hay-makers. Several views of Mont Valerien, looming in the haze of the after-glow, or in dark contrast with the splendor of the afternoon sunshine, also caught my husband"s attention; as well as numberless other places without a name, which pleased him for one sort of beauty or another. After each new discovery, he wanted me to go with him to see, and whenever it was possible, and at a walking distance from the house, I took a book with me and read to him as he sketched. By a few notes in the diary it will be seen that his explorations extended to rather long distances from the house:--
"Went to L"Alma on the tricycle. Found capital place for studying boats not far from the Pont d"Iena."
"Went round by Bois to Rothschild"s, till I came to bridge of St. Cloud and to the house--lovely play of lights on the water and upon the heights."