Forty Years Of Spy Part 23

Nor must I forget to mention the very popular K.C. member for Cambridge, Mr. P. P. Rawlinson.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIR ALBERT DE RUTZEN.

1909.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR PLOWDEN. _From an unpublished sketch._ 1910.]

CHAPTER X

THE CHURCH AND THE VARSITIES--PARSONS OF MANY CREEDS AND DENOMINATIONS

Dean Wellesley.--Dr. James Sewell.--Canon Ainger.--Lord Torrington.--Dr. Goodford.--Dr. Welldon.--Dr. Walker.--The Van Beers' Supper.--The Bishop of Lichfield.--Rev. R. J.

Campbell.--Cardinal Vaughan.--Dr. Benson, Archbishop of Canterbury.--Dr. Armitage Robinson.--Varsity Athletes.-- Etherington-Smith.--John Loraine Baldwin.--Ranjitsinhji.-- Mr. Muttlebury.--Mr. "Rudy" Lehmann.

Parsons of different creeds and denominations have been represented in _Vanity Fair_ from time to time--Anglicans, Romans, Wesleyans, Congregationalists and others. My method with a clerical subject is to go to his church and watch him in the pulpit, but it is not always easy to catch a Bishop, because he has not, so to speak, a home of his own. I remember making an excursion to St. Botolph's to study the Bishop of Kensington, only to find he was not preaching there that day but at St. George's, Camden Hill. Back west I went and after the sermon I waited outside the vestry door. Presently the Bishop came out, bag in hand, and walked down the hill. I hastened on ahead with the intention of doubling back and securing a good near view, but he turned into the Tube Station. I followed and secured a seat opposite him, and made the mental notes which resulted in the cartoon which was published very shortly afterwards in _Vanity Fair_.

Now and again I have been put to considerable trouble in stalking my man. I remember particularly well the peculiar circ.u.mstances under which I studied Dean Wellesley of Windsor, who was rather an eccentric looking old gentleman. I was staying at Windsor, in the Winchester Tower, with some friends who were officially connected with the Castle, and I learned that my best chance of seeing the Dean would be in the early morning when he was in the habit of taking a const.i.tutional around the Round Tower about 7.30 a.m. I welcomed the opportunity, rose early and went out. The Dean was already on the scene pacing to and fro in the snow, supporting himself by an umbrella in one hand and a walking-stick in the other. I did not follow him in an obtrusive manner, but after pacing round two or three times, I must have attracted his attention, for I feel sure he had never seen any other individual taking such an odd const.i.tutional at that hour. But of course he could not suspect my object. As he walked, I looked at him carefully, and especially observed his hat which, I had been informed, would be turned down according to the direction of the wind.

On this occasion, it was turned up in front, although I am sure that in walking round the Tower he must have been kept busy on such a cold and windy morning. In due time the caricature (which I always regard as one of my best) was published. Through the medium of my father, who was a very old friend of the Dean, I heard that he was very annoyed at the caricature.

Some time after, I was walking with my father in the High Street at Windsor when we met _the Dean_!

"Let me introduce my son," said my father. "He is the culprit and is responsible for your caricature in _Vanity Fair_."

"Oh indeed," said the Dean. "I'm very pleased to make his acquaintance--I shouldn't have been, had any one recognized the caricature as myself!"

An amusing sequel occurred a few days later when my mother met Mrs.

Wellesley, who told her that, thanks to the cartoon, the Dean had at last discarded the awful hat she had been vainly trying to get rid of for a quarter of a century.

I had another early morning experience in pursuit of Dr. James Sewell (Warden of New College, Oxford). I followed him into the college chapel and sat near his stall, but I felt I had not sufficiently impressed his features upon my memory to make a perfectly satisfactory caricature, so I inquired into his customs in hope of finding him again. I discovered that he also was in the habit of taking an early morning walk, and at 8.30 the next day I awaited him at a suitable distance from his door. After getting tired of waiting what seemed a very long time, I knocked at his door and asked the servant if Dr.

Sewell was in.

"No," he replied; "the Doctor started a _long_ time ago, but he went out by the other door this morning."

I felt rather sold, but determined to keep my vigil at an earlier hour the next morning. Accordingly I watched again, and this time saw him come out in all the glory of his beautiful white collar and cravat (which had earned him the nickname of "The s.h.i.+rt"), and a red handkerchief, as usual, hanging from the pocket of his coat tail. I "stalked" him discreetly, and with success. After a final glimpse of him, walking down one of the paths of the gardens of Oxford, I hurried home to make a note of my observations.

During my frequent visits there, I usually stayed at "The Mitre," for I liked the old place. The staircase was crooked with age and the bedroom floors extremely uneven. On the occasion of one of my sojourns in that charming town, I recollected with considerable pleasure a standing invitation from Sir John Stainer, who had invited me, in the event of my coming to Oxford, to dine with him and taste some exceptionally fine old port that had been bequeathed him. I dined with Sir John and tasted the port, and enjoyed a very pleasant evening.

Returning to "The Mitre" I went into the coffee-room before retiring, and as I was feeling very fit and in excellent spirits, I entered into conversation with other occupants of the room, one of whom dared me to place a very ripe cheese that was standing on the table in the crown of somebody's silk hat. Being under the impression that it was the hat of my quondam acquaintance, I promptly plunged the cheese into it.

After some joking repartee, I retired to bed but could not help noticing how much more crooked the staircase seemed than usual and how the ceiling appeared to be falling. In my bedroom the floor was like the waves of the sea, and I experienced considerable difficulty in reaching land, but after the utmost perseverance I arrived at the bed, where, holding on to the post to ensure my safety, I fell into a perfect sleep. Imagine my surprise when the next morning I found myself lying on the floor fully dressed, with one arm firmly encircling the bed-post. Pulling myself together I realized that it was eleven o'clock, and that I felt in excellent form and ready to face anything the day might bring, since the effects of the old port had worn off. At breakfast the excellence of my appet.i.te was somewhat marred by a paper with which the waiter presented me, which, on opening, I found to be a bill from Foster's for a new silk hat. My acquaintance of the night before had disappeared, and a total stranger to me proved to be the owner of the damaged hat.

The same day I had the good fortune to meet one of my favourite subjects, namely, Canon Ainger, at Dr. Warren's (the President of Magdalen), where I was invited to lunch. I had depicted the famous preacher in the pulpit after paying many visits to the Temple Church, where I had divided my attention between his fine sermons and his interesting personality. He quite entered into the spirit of my caricature and congratulated me upon it.

About the period when a number of distinguished professors and schoolmasters had appeared in _Vanity Fair_, I happened to be on a visit to my people at Windsor, when I met Lord Torrington (a very courtly old gentleman of the old school), who was calling on them.

Formerly he had been Lord of the Bedchamber to William IV. and Governor of Ceylon, also a Lord in Waiting to the Queen, and had been selected to escort the Prince Consort to England.

In the course of conversation my caricatures were referred to, and Lord Torrington remarked to me, in fun, "You've had such a lot of schoolmasters and professors in your paper. I do not think they're particularly interesting. How should I do for a change?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: 1892. CANON AINGER (MASTER OF THE TEMPLE).]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 16TH MARQUIS OF WINCHESTER.

_"(Cap of Maintenance." Premier Marquis.)_]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ARCHDEACON WILBERFORCE. 1909.]

I privately decided that the suggestion was an excellent one, and as it had not yet occurred to me in those days to ask my subject to sit to me, I lost no time in observing him as he talked and made a mental note of every trait and peculiarity. After his departure I immediately made a caricature and sent it off to _Vanity Fair_.

The next time Lord Torrington came to Windsor he failed to make his customary call upon my mother, who met him some time afterwards in the neighbourhood.

"How is it, Lord Torrington," she asked after the usual polite formalities, "that you have not been to see me?"

"Because, Mrs. Ward," he replied in deeply offended tones, "I shouldn't be responsible for my actions if your son were in the house."

"Then," said my mother, rea.s.suringly, "I'll take good care if he is there next time, that he shall be locked in his room!"

To which he replied, "Even that a.s.surance does not satisfy me!" And true to his word, he never called again.

I have always considered one of my best early caricatures to be that of the Rev. Dr. Goodford, Provost of Eton, whom I stalked in the High Street. I had remembered him, of course, when a small boy at Eton as Headmaster. When he saw the caricature he protested rather indignantly against my having depicted him with his umbrella over his shoulder--on the grounds that it was not his habit to walk in this way. A short time after the publication of the cartoon he was pa.s.sing down the High Street with his wife when his reflection caught his eye in Ingleton Drake's shop-window, and he stopped suddenly to gaze in astonishment at what he saw therein. Running after Mrs. Goodford, who had walked on oblivious of his distraction, he exclaimed, "My dear ... 'Spy' was quite right after all--I do walk with my umbrella over my shoulder."

In later days when caricatures made way for characteristic portraiture I frequently met, for the first time, men whom I had "stalked" in earlier days. On one occasion I called upon a dignitary of the Church who had arranged to give me sittings. As I commenced to work he gave his opinions upon artists of the day, and he referred to a caricature of himself that had appeared in _Vanity Fair_.

"I can't think who did it," he said distastefully, "but it was a horrid thing. I'll show it to you."

Calling his secretary, he asked that the offending drawing should be found. The search, however, proved unsuccessful, at which fact I need not say that I was greatly relieved. I suggested to the reverend gentleman that I would rather he did _not_ discover it at all! "But why?" said he. "It is the best I ever saw." It had been intended for a caricature, and the Bishop's friends had been unanimous in proclaiming it to be in every way typical, and not over-caricatured.

Some of my subjects had fixed ideas as to their own characteristics. I remember I was bent on doing Dr. Welldon, then Headmaster of Harrow, in profile, but he suddenly wheeled round on his heel and remarked, as if in explanation, "I always look my boys straight in the face." I endeavoured to persuade him to return to his former position. "You must imagine your boys over there," I explained, pointing to a distant spot on a far horizon, and the plan worked well.

[Ill.u.s.tration: REV. J. L. JOYNES (Lower Master, Eton.) 1887.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: DR WARRE CORNISH (Vice Provost of Eton) 1901.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: DR GOODFORD (Provost of Eton) 1876.]

I took the opportunity of informing him that I sketched him in 1874, whilst studying the game of football at "the wall" at Eton, for a full-page drawing which the _Graphic_ had commissioned me to execute.

Mr. Frank Tarver refreshed my memory on all the points to enable me to be accurate, and afterwards at his request the team posed and Welldon was one of the group. Mr. Frank Tarver also wrote the letterpress which accompanied the picture.

While Dr. Walker, Headmaster of St. Paul's, was posing to me in cap and gown, he puffed a huge cigar, and I asked him if he smoked when he was interviewing his boys.

"Oh yes," he replied, "not in cla.s.s of course, but always in my study, even when the boys are there. I smoke when the boys happen to come in; as you see, a good big one, too!"

For many years, most of my time was employed either in making portraits, stalking a possible caricature, or travelling to the most likely or unlikely places to pursue a "wanted" subject for _Vanity Fair_. My work greatly extended my list of acquaintances, and often I found business and pleasure strangely bound together in one's daily life and occupation, and sometimes a little incongruously.

On one occasion I was due to stay with my old friends Mr. and Mrs.

George Fox (now Mrs. Dashwood) in order to study the Bishop of Lichfield with a view to making a drawing of him. The night before I was the guest at the never-to-be-forgotten supper given in honour of Jan Van Beers, the Belgian artist, an exhibition of whose remarkable work at one of the Bond Street galleries was just then arousing great interest. Van Beers was a delightful man and a clever artist, but although he could originate and portray the most extraordinary ideas, it is not by the weird and eccentric creations, but by his light and humorous work, that he is still remembered. When I was talking of him with Sir Alma Tadema, he remarked that it was a pity such unusual talent should be thrown away on such frivolous and unworthy subjects.