While the "Painter's Camp" was progressing, which was to be the foundation of my husband's success, three pictures had been sent to the Academy and rejected; but after the first feeling of disappointment he was cheered up again by a favorable opinion from Millais about those pictures—one of them in particular, a sailing-boat on Loch Awe in the twilight, which was pronounced true in effect and color. Aunt Mary wrote to him soon after: "I am so very glad of the account you give of your pictures, and of Millais' opinion of them; it is very encouraging. I do hope truly that they will attract gain, good-will, and success for you."
As it would have been very expensive to have the pictures sent to and fro, with the deterioration of the frames, packing, etc., Mr. Hamerton begged a friend who lived in London to keep them in one of his empty rooms (he had a whole floor unfurnished) till there were a sufficient number of them for a private exhibition, in which he intended to give lectures on artistic subjects.
The mill, after thorough and expensive repairs, had been let, but there was bad news from the tenant of the coal-mine, who refused to pay the rent any longer, under pretext that the mine was exhausted. This looked very serious, as, after referring the matter to his uncle, who was a solicitor, my husband learned that the lease made during his minority did not specify the quantity of coal that the tenant was allowed to extract from the mine, and, of course, as much as possible had been taken out of it. Still, as there was an agreement to pay the rent during twelve more years, the tenant's right to withdraw from the signed agreement might be contested, and the affair had to be put into the hands of a lawyer. This was a cause of great anxiety, and it was not the only one. The health of my father had become very unsatisfactory of late, and his situation was no longer secure. He had been on most excellent terms with the English gentlemen who were at the head of the firm in which he was cashier, but they were retiring from business, and my father did not know what was coming next. He wrote on October 9, 1859:—
"Enfin je commence à respirer; depuis bientôt six semaines je ne savais pas vraiment où donner de la tête. Nous avons eu transformation de société, inventaire, assemblée d'actionnaires, tout cela m'a donné un effrayant surcroit de besogne et de fatigue, et je n'avais pas le courage de reprendre la plume lorsque je rentrais au logis, harassé et souffrant. Aujourd'hui nos affaires commencent à reprendre leur cours normal."
On the 28th of the same month I find this phrase in one of his letters: "Ma position est plus tendue que jamais et les changements survenus dans notre administration me donnent des craintes sérieuses pour l'avenir." Then we learned that a project for lighting Bucharest with gas was on foot, and that my father was to go there to ascertain the chances of success. Some outlay was necessary, and my husband, who had heard of it through a friend, generously offered to defray the preliminary expenses; his offer, however, was declined for the time, there being as yet no certainty of profit.
Early in 1860 Gilbert had to leave Innistrynich to visit his property and receive the rents. He always felt reluctant to go there, because of the painful reminiscences of his early youth, and of the dreariness of the scenery. There was also another reason, still more powerful,—he was not made to be a landlord, being too tender-hearted. How often did it happen that, instead of insisting on getting his rent from a poor operative, he left some of his own money in the hand of wife or child?—frequently enough in hard times, I know.
He was staying at "The Jumps," and went from there to Shaw, Burnley, and Manchester; he never missed writing to me every day, either a short note or a long letter, according to his spare time. In one of them he says:—
"Ma tante Marie est bien bonne, mais nous ne parlons jamais de choses sérieuses—toujours des riens. Comme la vie est étrange! à quoi bon aller loin pour voir ses amis quand ils vous disent simplement qu'il fait froid!… ma tante Susan est assez gracieuse, mais j'ai vu des nuages. Je suis allé hier à Manchester où j'avais à faire; j'y ai vu quelques tableaux et je suis de plus en plus convaincu que la meilleure chose pour moi est de peindre plutôt dans le genre des vrais peintres Français que dans celui de nos Pré-Raphaelites, ces réalistes impitoyables qui ne nous épargnent pas un brin de gazon."
This letter contains a strong proof of his mind's artistic evolution.
In the course of the summer we had several unexpected visitors, among them Mr. and Mrs. Mackay, Mr. Pettie the artist, and the gentleman described in the "Painter's Camp" as Gordon, who frequently called,—sometimes with his son, sometimes alone, and on such occasions generally remained for the night. Being an early riser, and indisposed to remain idle till breakfast time, he was found in the morning knitting an immense woollen stocking, which he afterwards took into use, and found most comfortable wear for grouse-shooting, as he took care to inform me.