[Ill.u.s.tration: _The portrait of a well-known character who claimed direct descent from the Stuarts. He wore gold b.u.t.tons and spurs with a red stripe down the side of his trousers, and was to be frequently seen in Piccadilly in the seventies._]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _At a country dance near Manchester._ 1872.

PORTRAITS.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: BUCKSTONE.

"_New Men and Old Acres._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _See page 202_.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _A Crusader at "Drury Lane"_.]

My father had an admiration for Ouless' method of painting a portrait, and with a slight acquaintance already that artist gave me good advice.

I was lucky in my first commissions for ladies' portraits, for they were of exceptionally pretty women, viz. Mrs. Miller Munday and Miss Chappell (Mrs. T. Caley), both hung in the Royal Academy. These were followed by equally attractive sitters in Lady Lucia Warner, the Countess of Loudoun, and (the first) Mrs. Harry McCalmont. A presentation picture shortly afterwards came my way, of Colonel Corbett of Longnor Hall (Shrewsbury), an extremely tall old gentleman of ripe years. I painted the picture on a full-length canvas, and after the first sitting or two he begged to be allowed to sit in a chair for the head; the experiment failed, for in less than half an hour the Colonel of the Shropshire Yeomanry, Master of Hounds, and formerly Officer in "the Guards" was fast asleep.

"No more of this," he said, when I roused him, "I'll stand to the bitter end," and he did, until the picture was completed.

It is a strange fact, though, that military men stand less well than would be expected of them, and tire sooner. For instance, an officer whom I was painting, sent his "soldier servant" to stand in the uniform he was to wear in my portrait of him, for one employs a soldier in preference to an ordinary model, because they are invariably correct in their knowledge of a uniform and how to put it on. The man showed signs of nervousness, which did not surprise me, but when, after standing a very short while, he turned from a healthy pink to a deathly white, I recommended a rest and a walk in the fresh air. When he returned to the position again, he became faint, so I offered him brandy. This he refused on the grounds that he was a teetotaller, but as his paleness showed no signs of abating, I with difficulty persuaded him to take a little stimulant. It seemed to have the desired effect, for the blood circulated again, and I rea.s.sured him, and continued painting without further complications. This was not by any means my first experience, for on another occasion a very tall and powerfully built man, an ex-soldier and "chucker-out" at a music-hall, came for the same purpose, and after standing for a time, from sheer exhaustion had to give it up.

But to return to my subject. When I was working for the _Graphic_, a portrait in which I took much pleasure was that of Millais. The sittings were most interesting, for in the course of conversation, I gained a considerable insight into his character, and gleaned much information as to his opinions, method of working, and views upon art.

Watts had been the idol of the Royal Academy students up till now, but Millais was taking his place in their estimation, and although he was well to the front as a portrait painter, the enormous compet.i.tion in this branch of art was scarcely evident yet. The time was approaching, however, when the art student had to consider how he could best live by painting. He was at first full of the n.o.blest intentions, and would frequently exclaim, "Art for Art's sake; that's my motto ... none of your pot-boilers for me." Unfortunately, the day for these very laudable sentiments was pa.s.sing, and, when men were dependent on their profession, something else had to be thought of. Hence the necessary study of portrait painting.

I remember Millais mentioned his belief in the pre-Raphaelites and their influence upon the young artist; but he considered it important that the student should gradually abandon the influence for a more masterly method of painting and a freer brush. This versatile genius must have puzzled his adorers not a little by his erratic experiments in style; his emulations of Reynolds in a modern portrait (of three ladies playing cards) were in direct contradiction to his previous work--the paint, I remember, was extremely thick, especially on the necks of the ladies. A portrait of Irving followed the next year, painted quite thinly. The students were puzzled and distracted, for in the meantime they had all followed the previous lead, and were still painting necks in foundation white laid on without discretion. Then Millais astonished his coterie by painting "Chill October" in his best manner.

I called upon him once on a matter of advice and discovered him puzzling over his picture called "Cherry Ripe." Something was wrong, and he could not place the fault, and he appealed to my "fresh eye" to find it. It occurred to me that something in the drawing of the head, which was covered with a mob-cap, was slightly out of drawing, and I called his attention to it.

"You've hit it, my boy," he said. "That's just what I thought myself, but I was not quite certain."

He paid me the great compliment of saying he had seen enough of my work to know he could safely ask my opinion, and I felt extremely flattered.

When Sir William Cunliffe Brooks commissioned him to paint the portrait of his daughter (the Marchioness of Huntly), a considerable stir was created in the art world when it became known that Millais had received 1000 for the painting, for up till that time such a figure was unheard of for a modern portrait. Sir William was delighted with the picture, but when he saw the completed portrait he was disappointed to find that his daughter's hands (which were most beautiful) were covered with gloves. He accordingly returned the picture, and expressed his desire that an alteration might be made and the hands shown in all their beauty. Millais made a compromise by repainting one of the hands ungloved.

Holl had discarded his pathetic subjects for portraits, and surprised the art world with a vigorous canvas of the celebrated mezzotint engraver, Samuel Cousins, which was followed by an equally strong portrait of Piatti the violoncello player. Consequently, he became quite the vogue and was until his death completely occupied with commissions. I think that of his many successes the painting of Lord Spencer was perhaps his finest portrait.

Holman Hunt (Ruskin's ideal painter) had no following as a portrait painter; his portraits were hard, "tinny," and laboured, and became singularly unpleasant on a large canvas, although his subject pictures were conceived from a high standpoint, and for that reason will last.

Old George Richmond was a highly accomplished draughtsman; many of his portraits in crayon were exquisite masterpieces,[5] and most of the great men of the day (especially the clergy) were depicted at one time or another by his refined pencil. William Richmond (now Sir William), his son, inherited his father's talent but in a different manner; foremost in my memory stands out a portrait of Lady Hood.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MRS GEORGE REYMOND MURRAY.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A STUDY.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HON. MRS ADRIAN POLLOCK.]

Ouless, the eminent portrait painter, like Millais, was a Jersey man, and both were highly successful students in their respective days at the R.A. Schools.

The painter of "The Doctor," now Sir Luke Fildes, exhibited a very beautiful portrait of his wife, which established him as a portrait painter at once, and it is unnecessary to say how many fine portraits he has painted since.

Lord Leighton showed what refinement meant in his delineation of a beautiful woman's head, and although his method of painting was scarcely adapted to portraits, he showed great force in a head of Richard Burton, the traveller.

When I was drawing Leighton for the _Graphic_ years ago, he amused me by saying:--

"Every one has his prototype, and some people resemble animals. What do I remind you of?"

When Lord Leighton compared his own head with that of a ram, I saw the resemblance at once: his hair curled like horns upon his forehead, and the general contour of his features was certainly reminiscent of that animal.

I must not forget the late Sir L. Alma Tadema, another subject painter, but one who did not often encroach upon the sphere of portraiture. When he did, I often traced a certain resemblance in his painting of the flesh to the marble he so perfectly expressed in his subject pictures.

Seymour Lucas is, I consider, one of our few and consistent historical painters who can mingle portraiture successfully with his own art.

Of course, Orchardson, Pettie, and Frank d.i.c.ksee are big examples of apt.i.tude in portrait painting by subject painters. Nowadays, however, there is a new generation, and the average standard is in a marked way higher, although _great men_ naturally only crop up once in a way. To mention all the names of the good portrait painters would be a hopeless task, for there are too many. Criticism would lead one into so many long lanes without any turnings, and would also involve the condemnation of some of the flights of the so-called art of the present day.

Of artists who are no longer with us, I should like to mention the late Sir George Reid, whose works are not sufficiently well known in London, but who was undoubtedly a great portrait painter.

The late Charles Furse, who showed such power and who was gaining ground every day, stood out as one of our strongest portrait painters; unfortunately, death cut short his efforts.

The late Robert Brough was fast becoming (if he had not already attained that position) another painter who deserves a place amongst our ablest men.

But I must not forget to mention the President of the Royal Academy, Sir E. Poynter, who exhibits many portraits.

When I was first beginning to paint, Mr. Peter Graham very kindly lent me his studio, where I made my earliest studies in oil. One of my first sitters was the uncle of my old friend, Edward Nash, of Rugby and 'Varsity fame, who made the stipulation that I should arrange a looking-gla.s.s in a position to allow of his watching me paint and to prevent him falling asleep. I found the demand rather embarra.s.sing, for I was not accustomed to attentions of this kind, being new to portraiture, and consequently feeling considerable restraint at being watched at my work.

Another early victim of my brush, thinking he had given me a sufficient number of sittings, suggested that I should promptly finish it, as his doctor had warned him that he was in danger of lead poisoning from the constant contact with oil colours; but when he was rea.s.sured on this point he allowed me to continue.

During a visit to Crewe, I painted more portraits. I remember my host, when a visitor called one day, said quite seriously:--

"Mr. Ward is getting on nicely with my picture. He is putting on the second coat of paint."

Another time I was staying at a country house in Staffordshire, painting my host in hunting-dress. I came down early one morning to look at it, preparatory to a last sitting, when I discovered to my astonishment my host's dog sitting up begging before his master's picture. I think this one of the sincerest compliments I was ever paid.

This was at the time when the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race was about to be rowed. I am always interested in the chances of the rival crews; still, my interest was nothing out of the common, and there was no particular reason why one night I should have had a most vivid dream, in which I saw the two crews racing ... until the Cambridge boat filled with water and swamped. The dream was most distinct, and I remembered it when I awoke, and related it at breakfast. My host's house was in a rather remote part of the country; and the London papers did not arrive until late. When they came, the first thing that struck my eye on opening the _Daily Telegraph_ was, "_Swamping of the Cambridge Crew at practice._"

When I became the owner of a studio myself, I was fortunate in my choice of a landlord. Mr. Augustus Savile Lumley had built the very fine studios in William Street, Lowndes Square, on his return from a military and diplomatic career in Europe. He was an artist, and was gifted in many ways, especially with great social abilities. For some time he was equerry to the d.u.c.h.ess of Teck, and he had been connected with the Royal Household for an indefinite period. During my acquaintance with him he became Marshal of the Ceremonies. He was considered a great authority on costume, and as such was continually in request when the Prince of Wales (and other notable hosts) contemplated entertaining on a large scale. In person he was fashionable and correct, a _beau_ of the old school, who affected a waist! After he was appointed Marshal of the Ceremonies, I recollect his tailor sent in an exorbitant bill for his uniform, which he very rightly refused to pay; and when his tailor sued him for the money, he brought an action and won his case.

After Mr. Henry Savile and Lord Savile had died, he inherited Rufford Abbey, and at his death Mr. Herman Herkomer, the portrait painter, took his handsome studio in William Street, where he had painted several portraits of the Prince of Wales, whose friendship he had enjoyed.

During his travels and vicissitudes abroad, Mr. Augustus Savile Lumley had met many foreign artists of note, and when his studios were unoccupied, quite a coterie of foreigners gathered there.

Consequently, I had some interesting neighbours.

John Varley, McClure Hamilton, Archibald Stuart Wortley, and John Collier were amongst the artists who then occupied studios in the same building.

Archibald Stuart Wortley was accomplished in many ways. I made his acquaintance at the Slade Schools when we were both studying drawing, and when we met again at William Street we soon became friends. I found him excellent company. It was just after his picture of "Wharncliffe Chase" had come back from exhibition at the Royal Academy, and he had completed a portrait of his sister (afterwards Lady Talbot) and one of Lady Wharncliffe, his aunt, that he started on his shooting pictures, which for some time he made a speciality of, and with which he succeeded so well. "The Big Pack," and "Partridge Shooting" were enormously popular, especially with sportsmen, who were delighted to find that one of the best shots in England could show equal dexterity with the brush in suggesting birds actually in flight.

But eventually, anxiety to succeed as a portrait painter led him to give most of his time to this branch of art. Amongst his best-known portraits were perhaps those of King Edward VII., Purdy, the gun-maker, and his own mother. He founded the Society of Portrait Painters, consisting of fifty members, among whom were and now are some of the most eminent artists of the day. He was the first President of that inst.i.tution, which two years ago became a Royal one.

Under the Presidency of J. J. Shannon, R.A., I am glad to say it now thrives, and I had recently the honour to be on the Hanging Committee at the Grafton Galleries when the last annual exhibition was held.

Archie Wortley was very versatile in his tastes, and probably too much so for the pursuance of a profession. Outside that he was a social success, for he played the piano and sang, danced on the stage as a rival to Vokes, was a clever mimic and _raconteur_, made an excellent after-dinner speech, and shot pigeons so well that in his match with Carver (the champion) he tied. He was a keen fisherman and a good all-round sportsman. There were two things he could not and would not do, and they were, to get astride a horse or to walk for the sake of walking. Two of my happiest holidays were spent with him and with his charming wife (formerly the beautiful Miss Nelly Bromley) in an old Manor House on the north coast of Jersey, where he occupied his time painting or shooting geese at night on the Ecrehon Rocks, improving his garden, and felling trees. On the occasion of my first visit, he welcomed me with the remark:--