Vicat Cole, Mr. Alma Tadema, Sir G. Reid, Mr. W. E. Lockhart, Mr. J.

MacWhirter, Professor Legros, M. Paul Rajon, M. Leopold Flameng, etc.

The testimonials are too numerous to be given here, but they all agreed in the expressed opinion that Mr. Hamerton would be "the right man in the right place," or "the very man."

Although the "Life of Turner" had first appeared in the "Portfolio," it was again well received by the public in book form, and greatly praised by the press, particularly in America. The "Boston Courier" said:--

"We have found this volume thoroughly fascinating, and think that no open-minded reader of 'Modern Painters' should neglect to read this life. In it he will find Turner dethroned from the pinnacle of a demi-G.o.d on which Ruskin had set him (greatly to the artist's disadvantage); but he will also find him placed on another reasonably high pedestal, where one may admire him intelligently and lovingly, in spite of the defects in drawing, the occasional lapses in coloring, and the other peculiarities which are made clear to his observation by Mr. Hamerton's discussion."

He had found it a difficult subject to treat because of the paucity of incidents in Turner's life; but the painter's genius had made so deep an impression upon him in his earlier years that he had eagerly studied his works and sought information about his personality from the friends who had, at some time or other, been acquainted with the marvellous artist.

I believe that my husband hardly ever went to the National Gallery without visiting the Turner Room, and that is saying much, for during his sojourns in London he seldom missed going every day it was open, and sometimes he went twice,--once in the morning, and again in the afternoon. Great as was his admiration of Turner's oil pictures, I believe it was equalled by his delight in the same master's water-colors and drawings. When in the lower rooms, where they are exhibited, he could hardly be prevailed upon to go upstairs again, and I had to plead fatigue and hunger to recall him to the realities of life. Although his appreciation of Constable was high, it could not be compared to what he felt for Turner, because "Turner was so wide in range that he was the opposite of Constable, whose art was the expression of intense affection for one locality."

CHAPTER XV.

1880-1882.

Third edition of "Etching and Etchers."--Kew.--"The Graphic Arts."--"Human Intercourse."

Once rid of the perturbation occasioned by the affair of the election, Mr. Hamerton was free to devote himself energetically to the preparation of a new and splendid edition of "Etching and Etchers," for which he spared neither thought nor pains,--being generously entrusted by Messrs.

Macmillan with the necessary funds, and given _carte blanche_ for the arrangement. Mr. Craik had said, in a letter dated Jan. 10, 1880: "We are disposed to make it a very fine book, and not to grudge the outlay.

We must leave all the details for you to arrange." In another, of May 29, he said again: "We are particularly anxious to make it a beautiful book; and I think the plan of making each edition completely different from the preceding, gives it an interest and value that will make the book always sought after. The first edition is a scarce and valuable book. The second will rise in value."

Being allowed to do exactly as he liked, the author of "Etching and Etchers" set to his task with delightful antic.i.p.ation of the result.

At the same time he was also giving a good deal of time to the annotation of certain engravings and etchings presented by himself and some friends to the Manchester Museum, in which he took great interest.

When the vacation brought the boys home in August, it was decided to have a trial trip on the Saone in the "Morvandelle;" but after behaving well enough on the water, she filled and sank at anchor whilst her captain was quietly enjoying dinner with his sons at the nearest inn.

The boat being made of wood, and divided into a great many compartments to hold stores and luggage, let the water into those compartments as the wood dried and shrank. It became, therefore, necessary to exchange the wooden tubes for iron ones, for it was a double boat. So the crew had to come back home, and Mr. Hamerton sent to a periodical a relation of his impressions and adventures in this brief voyage and shipwreck.

In the summer there was an exhibition at the Glasgow Inst.i.tute of Fine Arts, and my husband was asked to send something if possible; but being almost overwhelmed with work, he was obliged to decline the invitation.

Mr. R. Walker, the secretary of the Inst.i.tute, wrote to say how sorry he was not to have his name in the catalogue, and added:--

"Our collection of etchings is very good, and during the short time we have been open the people of Glasgow have learned more about etching than ever they knew before. Your book has been a source of infinite delight to many here. A short time ago we all hoped to have you among us. The loss is ours. Sometimes I trust we may have the pleasure of seeing you in Glasgow. You would find us not altogether wanting in appreciation of what is right in art, and there is an increasing number of people here who believe that ledgers are not the only books worth studying."

Although the "Portfolio" was now generally acknowledged to be at the head of artistic periodicals in England, it was the desire of both its editor and publisher to improve it still further. In one of his letters Mr. Craik had said: "What an important part the 'Portfolio' is playing!

I believe you are affecting the public, and compelling them to recognize the best things in a way they never did before. I think your conduct of the monthly admirable."

It was now proposed to add to its artistic value by giving more original etchings. Hitherto the peculiar uncertainty of the art of etching had hindered the realization of this desire, for there being no certainty about the quality of an etching from a picture, the risk is immensely increased when a commission is given for an original etching. The celebrity of an etcher and his previous achievements can only give hopes that he _may_ be successful once more, but these hopes are far from a certainty. Even such artists as Rajon and Jacquemart,--to mention only two of the most eminent,--who constantly delighted the lovers of art by masterpieces of skill and artistic feeling,--and were, moreover, painters themselves,--were not safe against failure, and repeated failure, even in copying.

When a commission has been given to an artist, the stipulated price has to be paid whether the result is a success or a failure, unless the artist himself acknowledges the failure--a very rare occurrence; at best he admits that some retouching is desirable, and consents to undertake it; but too often with the result that the plate loses all freshness.

Such considerations, and many more, made it necessary for the publisher and editor of the "Portfolio" to discuss the subject at length and without hurry. In addition to the affairs of the "Portfolio," there was the choice of ill.u.s.trations for the book on the Graphic Arts, which was to be published by Mr. Seeley, and for which the presence of the author in London was almost a necessity.

It was then decided that, both our boys having situations, we would take our daughter with us and seek for lodgings somewhere on the banks of the Thames, probably at Kew. Mr. and Mrs. Seeley, with their usual kindness, invited us to stay with them until we had found convenient accommodation.

We started in October, and as soon as we reached Paris we heard from our younger son Richard that he was far from pleased with his present situation. Instead of having to devote only a few hours a day to teaching English, as he had been promised, the whole of his time was taken up by the usual drudgery which is the lot of an under-master, so that he could not study for himself. The first thing his father did was to set him free from that bondage, and to devise the best means to enable him to pursue the study of painting which the boy wished to follow as a profession. They went together to consult Jean Paul Laurens, who said that the most efficacious way would be--not to study under one master, but to go to one of Juan's ateliers, where students get the benefit of sound advice from several leading artists. In conformity with this counsel my husband saw M. Juan, and after learning from him the names of the artists visiting the particular atelier where Richard was to study, he got him recommended to Jules Lefebvre and to Gerome by an intimate friend.

Paul Rajon, as usual, did not fail to call upon us, and we were very sorry to notice a great change for the worse in his appearance. He said he had been very ill lately, and was still far from well; he seemed to have lost all his buoyancy of spirits, and to look careworn. He alluded to pecuniary difficulties resulting from the early death of his brother-in-law, which left his sister, and a child I believe, entirely dependent upon him. Without reckoning on adverse fortune or ill-health, he had built himself a house with a fine studio at Auvers-sur-Oise, to escape from the incessant interruptions to his work when in Paris. But of course the outlay had been heavier than he had intended it to be, and these cares made him rather anxious. Being very good friends, we had formerly received confidences from him about the dissatisfaction created by the loneliness of his home and the want of a strong affection--in spite of his success in society and the flattering smiles and speeches of renowned beauties. In answer to my suggestion that marriage would perhaps give him what he wanted, he had answered: "No doubt; but where shall I find the wife? The girl I introduce into society as _my_ wife must be very beautiful, else what would society think of my taste as an artist?... She must also be above the average in intelligence, to meet with the _elite_ and keep her proper place; and lastly, she must also be wealthy, for my earnings are not sufficient for the frame I desire to show her in." He was quite serious, but I laughed and said: "I beg to alter my opinion of your wants. The wife you describe would be the mere satisfaction of your vanity, and if you were fortunate enough to meet with the gifts of beauty, intelligence, and wealth in the same person it would be very exacting to expect that in addition to all these she should be domestic, to minister to your home comforts, and sufficiently devoted for your need of affection."

"I told you I thought it very difficult," he sighed.

"If you take other people's opinion about the choice of a wife," my husband said, "you are not ripe for matrimony; no man ought to get married unless he feels that he cannot help it,--that he could not live happily without the companionship of a particular woman."

There had been an interval of a few years between this conversation and our present meeting; but M. Rajon had not forgotten it, for he said with a shade of sadness: "It is now, Mrs. Hamerton, that I feel the want of a domestic and devoted wife, such as you advised me to choose; but marriage is out of the question. I am an invalid."

We tried to cheer him up, and my husband's serene philosophy seemed to do him good. He repeated to Paul Rajon his usual comparison of the events of life to a very good cup of coffee to which a pinch of salt is always added before we are allowed to taste it. "Your reputation and talent," he said, "make a capital cup of coffee; but your illness has seasoned it with rather a heavy pinch of salt."

The journey to England was got through without any serious accident to my husband's health, but we had to be very careful in adhering to our rules of slow trains and night travelling and frequent stoppages.

It was the first visit of our daughter to England, and her father watched her impressions with great interest. She spoke English timidly and reluctantly; but Mrs. Seeley was so kindly encouraging that she overcame her timidity.

Mr. Seeley received us in his pretty, newly built house at Kingston, which, being quite in the country and very quiet, suited my husband's tastes admirably. The proximity of a beautiful park was very tempting for rambles, and when at leisure we much enjoyed going all together for a stroll under its n.o.ble trees. Mr. Seeley and his friend sometimes went off to London together in the morning, but it was more desirable for my husband to go to town only in the afternoon, because he felt less and less nervous as the day wore on, and was quite himself in the evening.

We left Kingston to go and stay for a few days with Mr. and Mrs.

Macmillan. The evenings after Mr. Macmillan's return from business were very animated with conversation and music.

Sometimes Mr. Macmillan gave us some Scotch and Gaelic songs with remarkable pathos and power; and invariably, after every one else had retired, he remained talking intimately, often confidentially, with my husband far into the night.

A pretty incident occurred before we left Knapdale. One afternoon we found Mrs. Macmillan very busy putting the finishing touches to an embroidered and be-ribboned baby's frock, intended as a present to her husband's first grandchild, on his first visit to Knapdale, which was to be on that very day. After dinner the little man made his appearance in the decorated frock, and took his place upon his grandfather's shoulders. Then we all formed a procession, headed by the still erect form of the grandsire supporting the infant hope of the family, and leading us--parents, relatives, and guests--to the cheerful domain of the cook. She proudly received the company, standing ladle in hand, by an enormous earthen vessel containing a tempting mixture, in which candied fruits, currants, and spices seemed to predominate. We were expected, every one, to bring this medley to greater perfection by turning over a portion of it with the ladle. It was duly offered first to the little stranger, whose grandsire seized and plunged it into the savory depths, whilst the tiny baby hand was tenderly laid upon his own.

The second part of the ceremony--tasting--had likewise to be performed by proxy, for the young scion of the house peremptorily refused to trifle with any temptation in the form of mincemeat. We all in succession performed the ancient rite, and my husband said to me afterwards what a capital subject for a picture of family portraits the scene would afford. The contrast in the attire of the cook and her maids with the toilettes of the ladies, together with the picturesque background of the bright kitchen utensils, made a subject in the style of an old Dutch master, with a touch of modern sentiment.

After seeing different places on the banks of the Thames we decided again for Kew, but this time we required larger lodgings--not only on account of Mary, but also for Miss Susan Hamerton and our cousins, Ben and Annie Hinde, whom we had invited to join us there. They had gladly accepted the invitation, and our meeting was happy and cheerful. We had been very fortunate in our lodgings, which were s.p.a.cious, clean, and with a good view of the Green. Our landlady was a very respectable and obliging person, and she let us have, when we wished, the use of a chaise and a fast-trotting little pony, which greatly added to Aunt Susan's enjoyment of the country, for her nephew drove her to the prettiest places in the neighborhood, and through Richmond Park whenever the weather allowed it. The beautiful gardens received almost a daily visit from us, and were a most agreeable as well as a convenient resort for our aged aunt, as she could either walk in the open grounds when it was mild enough, or else visit the numerous hot-houses if she found the outside air too keen for her.

We had been fortunate in this choice of Kew for our temporary residence; not only did we like the place in itself, but we met with so hospitable and flattering a reception from several resident families, that they contrived to make us feel unlike strangers among them, and ever after, our thoughts turned back to that time with mingled feelings of regret, pleasure, and grat.i.tude; and whenever we came to contemplate the possibility of moving to England, Kew was always the place named as being preferred by both of us.

Here we again met Professor Oliver, whom my husband had known since he came to Kew alone for the first time. Being greatly interested in painting, and possessing a collection of fine water-colors by Mr. Alfred Hunt, he took pleasure in showing them to Mr. Hamerton, as well as the Herbarium, of which he was Director.

Professor Church and his wife showed themselves most friendly and untiringly hospitable. Very interesting and distinguished people were to be met at their house, where the master was ever willing to display before his guests some of his valuable collections of jewels, rare tissues, old laces, and j.a.panese bronzes. We often had the pleasure of meeting at this friendly house Mr. Thiselton Dyer, now Director of Kew Gardens, and his wife, the daughter of Sir John Hooker--a most charming person, who reminded both of us of the lovely women immortalized by Reynolds.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The third edition of "Etching and Etchers," now on sale, had fulfilled all expectations, and was universally admired and praised. It was a great satisfaction to the author, who had never before enjoyed such a complete recognition. His reputation and popularity increased rapidly, and if he had liked he would have been a good deal lionized; but although far from insensible to this success, he remained true to his studious habits--going with Mr. Seeley to the National Gallery, British or Kensington Museums, to choose ill.u.s.trations for the "Graphic Arts,"

or quietly writing at his lodgings, and only accepting invitations from his friends and publishers.

In December Mr. Macmillan gave a dinner at the Garrick Club in honor of the author of "Etching and Etchers," who was warmly congratulated by the other guests invited to meet him.

I have still in my possession the menu belonging to Mr. Alma Tadenia who said to my husband: "I dare say Mrs. Hamerton would like to have a _souvenir_ of this evening--present her with this in my name," and he handed his menu, on the back of which he had quickly and cleverly drawn a little likeness of himself in caricature, and the guests had signed their names on it. A facsimile is given on the opposite page.

As he had given us an invitation to visit his curious house we did not fail to go, and Mary was especially attracted by the famous grand piano, inscribed inside with the signatures of the renowned musicians who had performed upon it. Knowing that our daughter was seriously studying music, Mrs. Alma Tadema generously expressed the hope of seeing sometime the signature of Miss Hamerton by the side of the other names.

My husband also took Mary to Mrs. Woolner's, and she enjoyed greatly the society of the children, who spoke French very creditably, and who were interested in the details she could give them about French life and ways. They took her to their father's studios, and showed her his works.

When dinner-time came, however, she was unprepared for being waited upon by her new friends, and in consequence felt somewhat ill at ease. It was a fancy of Mr. Woolner's to make his children wait upon his guests. They offered bread and wine, and directed the maids, their duty consisting chiefly in seeing that every guest received perfect attendance. It reminded one of the pages' service in mediaeval times, and was accepted by people of mature age as a gracious courtesy of their host, though it proved rather embarra.s.sing to a girl of fifteen. I don't know how long the custom prevailed, but I did not notice it in succeeding years.

Our cousin, Ben Hinde, had joined us only for a few days, his duties as a clergyman not allowing of a long absence, but our meeting had been very pleasant and cordial. He had left with us his sister Annie, to whom my husband endeavored to show what was most worthy of attention in the metropolis. And just as we were thus enjoying our fragrant "cup of coffee," the "pinch of salt" was thrown into it with a heavy hand--for we heard from Richard that he was lying so dangerously ill that he could not move in bed. He had only written a few words in pencil to let us know that the doctor thought our presence unnecessary, because the danger would be past, or the illness prove fatal, before we could arrive.