1904.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: STERLING STUART (_The Hatter_) 1904.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: FATHER BERNARD VAUGHAN.

1907.]

Not long after my cartoon of the Prince of Wales appeared, I was pa.s.sing by a tailor's shop and I saw a reproduction in the window.

Feeling slightly curious as to its exact object there, I went to look, and on closer examination found that the ingenious tailor was using it as a form of advertis.e.m.e.nt, and underneath was written:--

"The very best coat that I've seen the Prince wear Was drawn by the artist of _Vanity Fair_."

The sensitiveness of people with a tendency towards corpulency is also at times provocative of trouble. Sir Watkins William Wynn, who sat for me on one occasion, was quite a portly old gentleman, and, presumably in order to conceal his stoutness from my notice, he b.u.t.toned his coat before taking up his position. As an inevitable result, a number of well marked creases made their appearance in the region of his watch-chain, and these I naturally included in my drawing. When he subsequently saw the latter he refused at first to believe that so many creases existed, but after I had finally convinced him of their presence he went straight off to his tailor's and bestowed the blame on him. No doubt the tailor profited in the long run; however, I fancy, as a matter of fact, that I have been of service to a good many tailors in my time. For many of the notabilities I have cartooned seemed altogether unaware of their habilatory shortcomings till they were confronted with them in my drawings.

Self-conceit is the keynote of the story of a n.o.ble lord who called upon me at my studio with a view to my "putting him in _Vanity Fair_."

I was very busy at the time, and had consequently to suggest the postponing his appointment till a later hour, whereupon he took great offence and refused to return at all. But I was determined he should not escape me, and I took the opportunity at an evening party to study him thoroughly. When his caricature appeared he was so chagrined that he dyed his hair, which was white, to a muddy brown, in order that he should not be recognized.

An old gentleman of great position in the world who came to my studio, had a very red nose. After the sitting, as he was leaving, he said rather shyly:--

"I hope you will not be too generous with your carmine, as it might give the public a wrong impression, and it is an unfortunate fact that both my grandfathers, my father, and myself all have had red noses, and all are total abstainers."

Another subject was restless to a degree, and walked about the room instead of permitting me to draw him.

"Hope you won't keep me very long," he said, "I'm never still for a moment, I'm always walking about my room. You'd better do me with a book in my hand as though I were dictating to my clerk."

I was rather disconcerted, for this was not to be a caricature, but a characteristic portrait.

"But," I said, "your friends won't know you so. Anyway, go on walking."

I made little notes as I watched him, and after he had been walking some time I began to hope that he would be getting tired, when he stopped short and said:--

"No! You'd better do me with my hand on my waistcoat."

"Very well," I replied, "we'll begin again."

In this position I began a drawing of him, when he decided it would not do.

"Oh, well," I said, "sometimes you sit down, don't you? And it seems to me a very natural thing to do. Suppose I draw you that way?"

Mark Twain was another subject who came under the category of the "walkers." I had a good deal of difficulty in getting hold of him, but when I eventually caught him at his hotel, I found him decidedly impatient.

"Now you mustn't think I'm going to sit or stand for you," he told me, "for once I am up I go on."

The whole time I watched him he paced the room like a caged animal, smoking a very large calabash pipe and telling amusing stories. The great humorist wore a white flannel suit and told me in the course of conversation that he had a dress suit made all in white which he wore at dinner-parties. He had just taken his Honorary Degree at Oxford, and he rather wanted to put his gown on, but I preferred to "do" him in the more characteristic and widely-known garb. He struck me as being a very sensitive man, whose nervous pacings during my interview were the result of a highly strung temperament. The only pacifying influence seemed to be his enormous pipe which he never ceased to smoke.

When I think of all the good stories I have missed when I have been studying these really humorous people, I regret that my attention must be centred on my work regardless of the delightful personalities which sometimes it has been my good fortune to meet.

I should like to be able to wind up my sitters like mechanical toys, to be amusing to order. What a lot of trouble it would save!

A clever amateur caricaturist once wanted me to paint his portrait, and during his sittings gave me his views upon caricature. He informed me that he had no compunction whatever in doing a caricature upon the physical defects of his subjects, and that if, for instance, a man had ... well ... a decidedly large stomach, he would not hesitate to increase it.

After several sittings I made one of the best drawings and characteristic portraits I have ever done, as he appealed to me as a subject, for he was individual in his dress, and his hat had a character which is rare nowadays.

But during the progress of the work, he was self-conscious and awkward, which is a result curious in a man who had a clever gift of caricature, himself. However, I did not exaggerate my work to the extent of producing a caricature, and gave him more credit than to expect me to flatter him. But it seemed that I expressed his bulk more truthfully than was tactful, for it appeared he had undergone a dieting process and considered himself quite sylph-like in consequence. When the drawing was in the hands of the lithographers I went down to see the proof, and to my surprise this man turned up. He appeared to be very friendly, shook hands, and expressed the usual polite ba.n.a.lities. I was a trifle puzzled, but I heard afterwards that he went to the office the next day with his lawyer to look at the drawing, and said to him:--

"Don't you consider this to be a most offensive caricature of me?" (He imagined I was intending to insult him.)

This resulted in publication being forbidden, whereupon the lithographers informed him that the drawing was already finished, and all the expense of reproduction incurred. He accordingly paid what was necessary, and it was never published, so I heard no more of the matter.

Some time after I met his medical adviser, whom I told of this extraordinary hallucination as to my intentions. He appeared amused.

"Oh!" he said, "he is really a very good fellow; but it's been a mania with him to reduce his stomach, and he was under the impression that he'd succeeded."

My methods of studying my subjects vary considerably, and the most successful of my caricatures have been without exception those which were made without the knowledge of the persons portrayed. After all, this is nothing more than natural, for by watching a man unawares one more successfully catches his little tricks of manner, and to some extent his movements, all of which are carefully concealed when he comes in the guise of a complacent sitter to the studio. And so, for the purpose of frank caricature, one prefers to rely upon memory.

I have spent such a considerable time in public places of interest that I fear I am quite well known to the police. Not infrequently I have been detected in the act of obtaining my victims (by the pen), for I discovered the following account in a newspaper: "An amusing incident occurred one evening in the House of Commons Lobby in connection with the caricaturist and a victim. I had seen 'Spy'

silently and patiently stalking a new member (Mr. Keir Hardie) with a striking and tempting personality. The new member, however, was nervous, having apparently an instinctive idea that he was being pursued, for he moved restlessly about, casting suspicious glances all round him. An evening or two after I was surprised to see 'Spy' and his victim engaged in a friendly conversation, the artist taking advantage of the opportunity to examine every detail of face and figure. It seems that the new member thought he recognized a friend in his pursuer, and not knowing what he was after, he went up to him feeling that he had found refuge, and that here at least was one man who did not want to sketch him. I need hardly say that 'Spy' took full advantage of the chase, and not long after this the victim appeared in _Vanity Fair_."

That reminds me of the time when Lord Henry Lennox came up to me in the Lobby.

"My dear," he said in his usual characteristic manner, "you see that little man over there--I detest him--he caricatured me and made me appalling."

He took a violent dislike to Pellegrini, who had seized upon his obvious stoop with a wonderful touch, and converted it into one of his finest caricatures.

Cardinal Newman quite unconsciously placed me in rather an awkward dilemma. At the time when I was anxious to stalk him I heard he was in Birmingham; so I went to Euston Station, and had actually bought my railway ticket when suddenly I caught sight of his Eminence upon the platform. Here was an opportunity not to be missed! I saw him go into the buffet and followed him. He sat down at a small table and ordered soup. I took a seat opposite and ordered food also, studying him closely while he partook of it. But I was not altogether satisfied, and I felt anxious to see him again. So I travelled down to Birmingham, and on the following day I called at the Oratory and asked one of the priests there at what time the Cardinal was likely to go out. Evidently, in spite of my protests, the priest concluded that I wanted an audience with Cardinal Newman, for saying that he would apprize him of my visit, he disappeared. My object had been to perfect my former study by a further glimpse; and a personal interview was really the last thing I desired. There was accordingly nothing left for me but to bolt!

[Ill.u.s.tration: CANON LIDDON.

1876.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CARDINAL NEWMAN.

1877.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DEAN OF WINDSOR (WELLESLEY).

1876.]

My most comical search was probably one in which I was a.s.sisted by Mr.

Gibson Bowles. It took place in Holloway Gaol. The Rev. Arthur Tooth, "the Man of the Mount," and that most celebrated ritualist, was in durance vile.

"Awkward," said Mr. Bowles, "but we must certainly have him. Let me see.... I'm the Secretary to the Persian Relief Fund.... Come along, Ward."

What possible connection could exist between the Persian Relief Fund and the Rev. Arthur Tooth I failed utterly to see, but apparently Mr.

Bowles made the authorities at Holloway see it, for we got safely through, and I had the unique experience of observing the Reverend gentleman as he posed behind the bars.

I found Mr. Bowles an invaluable second when studying my subjects, he was so thoroughly a man of the world and withal so tactful and resourceful that I was glad when we worked in company. It was a great help for me, and I was able to employ my attention in observing while he took the responsibility of conversations and entertainment of the subject entirely off my hands. Sometimes I disconcerted my friends, who were all unaware of the promptings of the caricaturist's conscience. I was walking down St. James' Street one day with a friend discussing the subjects of the day with easy equanimity when I saw Brodrick the Warden of Merton (whom I had been hoping to catch for weeks). I suddenly grew quite excited, and, seeing him turn a corner, I rushed on in pursuit. My friend begged me to desist, and, finding me deaf to his entreaties, left me. I followed Mr. Brodrick into a shop, had one long look at him, and went home to complete a caricature that came with immediate success.

On occasions, disguise has been necessary for a "complete stalk"--when I was endeavouring to obtain a glimpse of Doctor Spooner (known to fame as the creator of Spoonerisms), I started by means of masquerading as a student in cap and gown, and as the renowned gentleman's sight was very bad indeed, he was a pretty safe man to tackle. My methods were, of course, well known to the real undergraduates who aided me to the best of their ability; but on this occasion one student in the front row nearly gave me away. Suddenly turning round in the middle of the lecture, he inquired in a loud stage whisper, "How are you getting on?"

"Hush! He'll see," I remonstrated.

"Oh!" exclaimed the undergraduate, "that's all right if he does. I'll tell him you're my guv'nor!"