Forty Years of 'Spy'

CHAPTER XIII

YACHTSMEN—FOREIGN RULERS

Lord Charles Beresford.—Cowes.—Lady Cardigan.—Chevalier Martino.—Lord Albemarle.—Harry McCalmont.—Royal Sailors.—King Edward VII.—Queen Alexandra.—Prince Louis of Battenberg.—King of Greece.—Foreign Rulers.—The Prince Imperial.—Don Carlos.—General Ignatieff.—Midhat Pasha.—Sir Salar Jung.—Ras Makunan.—Cetewayo.—Shah of Persia.—Tadas Hayashi, etc.

Some years before my cruise on the Hercules I had caricatured a young man of whom "Jehu Junior" prophesied a career of no mean order. Lord Charles Beresford has performed all that was expected of him, but it is difficult to recognize in him to-day my subject of 1867. When he came to my studio I was struck by his characteristic stride, and asked him to walk up and down my studio while I endeavoured to capture some impression of his rolling gait, curly hair and jolly laugh. He was willing to be made fun of, and his excellent company aided me in arriving at a result which may best be gathered from the following letter, which I received from him on the completion of the caricature.

"My dear Ward,

"The Vanity Fair cartoon is really the only caricature that I know that ever was in the least like me, I think it quite excellent. I know it is the exact way I stand and I am generally smiling profusely. All my friends were delighted with it, and at Osborne they all said it was capital. I hope you were pleased with it yourself; I am sure you ought to be.

At this time I heard a story of Lord Charles, who was always known as "Charlie Beresford," and who played many a practical joke. There was a very stout and good-humoured lady who was a general favourite in society and especially with young men. On one occasion she happened to be leaving an evening-party when Lord Charles escorted her to her brougham, which appeared a tight fit for her, and being prompted by a sudden fit of devilment he seized the linkman who was handy and thrust him into her carriage. Directly the door was closed, the oblivious coachman drove off, and what happened afterwards must be left to the imagination.

In that year I went down to Cowes for the yachting week, as it was quite the best opportunity for following up the types of well-known yachtsmen, and I passed many amusing hours in the gardens of the Squadron.

Amongst the most frequent visitors was Lady Cardigan in gayest attire, and usually accompanied by a much-beribboned poodle, the colour of whose furbelows matched her own. I greatly appreciated her hospitality, for she had an inexhaustible fund of good stories which secured many an extra point through her wit in the telling. Just then Prince Battyany was renting Eaglehurst, and I have a very pleasant recollection of being taken to a garden-party there by Lord and Lady Londonderry on their yacht the Aileen.

The next time I went to Cowes was on the occasion of the German Emperor's first visit, when the little place was naturally overcrowded, and in consequence I had unusual difficulty in getting into the Squadron. On previous occasions I had had no trouble in being "put up" for the club, but it seemed that every one was full up. I was extremely disappointed as the proprietor of Vanity Fair (Mr. Gibson Bowles) had particularly wished me to make a representative group of prominent members of the R.Y.S. I was in a quandary, so I went to the secretary, Mr. Pasley, and told him of my predicament. He said, "They're all full up, I am sorry I haven't the power to let you in, but I will do my best for you. I will speak to the Prince of Wales, he is sure to be here soon." We were talking at the gate of the castle grounds when suddenly the secretary said, "Here he comes." H.R.H. upon hearing of my dilemma, with his usual good nature sent a message to tell me that he regretted I had not let him know before and that I might come in whenever I liked, and at once if I wished. So I received my pass in due course.

The late Chevalier Martino was of course "all there" as a guest of the Emperor William on board the Hohenzollern. He was a Neapolitan, and of a most impassioned temperament. I remember meeting him one night at dinner. The conversation fell on the battle of Trafalgar, and, forgetting the dishes which were before him he suddenly rose from the table and started to recite the "Death of Nelson." During the recitation he worked himself to such a pitch of emotion that at the climax of the death scene, he fell to all appearance lifeless upon the floor.

When I met him shortly afterwards, he said, "You must have thought I was mad that evening, but I couldn't help it, I am an enthusiast."

He was a favourite with both King Edward and the German Emperor, and was marine-painter in ordinary to our Sovereign. In the course of further conversation he told me that he had been in the Italian Navy, and that with his knowledge of ships he did not require to make more than the very slightest notes preparatory to illustrating a naval review. He was an interesting companion and told very good stories. The Emperor was very sympathetic to Martino who, in consequence of a paralytic trouble with which he was afflicted, found considerable difficulty in rising from the table. He told me that the Emperor would, with one arm, lift him to his feet as though he was a feather, with a strength that was surprising. He always refused to exhibit his pictures, but at his death many of them were collected for public exhibition. His work was thoroughly appreciated by naval men as being so absolutely accurate.

On one occasion, being invited by a member of the Squadron to dine upon his yacht, I was struck by the beauty of the lady to whom I sat next. The Admiral had an excellent chef on board, and consequently we were served with a particularly good dinner, but I appreciated his hospitality rather less when he passed me drawing materials with which to depict the lady. I paid her a polite compliment, but wasn't to be "drawn" in this way in return for my dinner.

Lord Albemarle, whom I have portrayed, is a notable yachtsman, and also a clever caricaturist with a great feeling for drawing and sculpture, so he spends much of his spare time in his studio. He served his country in the South African War, as Lieut.-Colonel in the C.I.V., and is Lieut.-Colonel in the Scots Guards (retired), as did Mr. Rupert Guinness, who was also one of my Vanity Fair series, and who took me over the Royal Naval Volunteer training ship (the Buzzard) on the Thames embankment, which he commands.

Of course, in these sea-days I very frequently enjoyed sailing with my more intimate friends. I had great times with my old friend, Harry McCalmont, who was a whole-hearted sailor, as was his father before him. He was always very much to the fore at Cowes in the yachting season, and it will be remembered that he built the Geralda, which eventually became the royal yacht of Spain. He afterwards presented me with her white ensign, and it was on her deck that I portrayed him in a large oil picture which I painted some time before his death. He, like Lord Albemarle, served in South Africa and was in the Scots Guards. I spent many delightful hours too, with Charlie Brookfield on his little cutter, sailing here and there from one point to another, around the Isle of Wight.

When Sir Thomas Lipton first built Shamrock, it was obvious that he should appear in the series of Vanity Fair celebrities. He sat to me in my studio when, during conversation, he told me of his implicit belief in the uses of advertisement, which he considered the corner-stone of success.

I have been particularly fortunate in my opportunities for observation when at work on the Royal yachtsmen, among whom was King Edward himself. The Prince was always most kind and courteous, and when I had the honour of receiving a sitting from him, he did not forget to inquire after my father, whose health was not all that could be desired at the time, and later on when my father died I received the following letter of sympathy:—

"Dear Mr. Ward,

"I am desired by the Prince of Wales to write and let you know how sincerely sorry he is to hear of the terrible affliction which has fallen upon you, and to assure you that you have his unfeigned sympathy in your sorrow.

"He had known your father so long that he could not help letting you know what he felt on this sad occasion.

In many indefinable ways the King never missed an opportunity of showing his kindness for which I was always grateful. When I made a portrait of him as Prince of Wales I received a letter of acknowledgment from which I may quote the following extract:—"The King thinks the portrait an excellent one, and there is nothing in it to alter."

Some years after when he had begun to show signs of embonpoint, a fact of which he was fully aware, I had the honour of a sitting, and he said laughingly:—

"Now let me down gently."

"Oh, but you've a very fine chest, sir," I replied.

He laughed and shook his head at me, as though he found my aim at diplomacy more entertaining than convincing.

Queen Alexandra also sat to me at Marlborough House, where I made the drawing in black and white for Vanity Fair, but when I took it to the editor he decided that it must be coloured, as were all the previous cartoons. The Princess of Wales, as she then was, had been so kind in giving me sittings that I dared not suggest more, so I attempted to colour my sketch from memory, and in my anxiety to get the flesh tint I spoilt it, as I found it impossible to obtain the clearness of colour over the pencil work, and in trying to do so I ruined the sketch. Later on I met the Prince (Edward VII.) and he asked me what I had done with the drawing of the Princess. On my informing him of the fate of the sketch, and the circumstance of its destruction, he said, seeing my concern and embarrassment: "Well, don't worry yourself. No one has yet succeeded in making a satisfactory portrait of the Princess—not even Angeli," although one or two successful portraits have been painted of Her Majesty since then both as Princess of Wales and Queen.

One of my very early caricatures was one of her brother, the late King of Greece, done from memory. Comparatively recently, Prince Louis of Battenberg (a handsome subject), whom I had studied beforehand at the Admiralty, came to my studio, and he brought the Princess Louise and Princess Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein to see the result with which they expressed themselves much pleased, and the drawing is now in their possession.

In 1875 I was interested in making a study of the Prince Imperial at Chiselhurst, and I have a very vivid recollection of my introduction to him, which took place at a dance given by Lord and Lady Otho Fitzgerald at Oakley Court. I had been invited with the other members of my family, and it chanced that my dress clothes were in the hands of my tailor, who failed to return them at the promised hour. Leaving word that the parcel was to be forwarded immediately I went down to Windsor to inform my sisters that there was but a poor chance of my being able to join them. They were almost weeping over the news as my father and mother were away from home and they were relying on my escorting them to the ball. However, at the last moment the parcel arrived, but on putting on the coat and waistcoat I discovered that they were not mine, but were undoubtedly intended for a person at least twice my size.

Everybody was in despair, but my sisters said, "You must go!" So I had to swallow my pride and entered the ball-room awkwardly enough as I had buckled back my waistcoat as far as I could, but with the coat there was nothing to be done but take a lappel over each arm and do my best to conceal the ill-fitting garment (which I could have folded twice round my body) by holding it out of sight. I kept well in the background through the early part of the evening, but after supper I felt bolder, and decided to dance at any price.

In the ball-room I felt a fool indeed, like "Auguste" at the circus, and on asking one fair lady for a dance noticed her furtive glance sweep over me; I hastened to explain the reason of my unfortunate plight, at which she took pity on me and gave me a dance. I was young then and took a pride in well-fitting clothes, yet it was under these most trying circumstances that I was presented to the Prince Imperial and, with both my arms fully occupied, pride of speech and ease of demeanour were far from me at that difficult moment.

Lord Otho being a prominent member of the R.Y.S., the burgee of that club usually flew from the flagstaff of Oakley Court. À propos of this Captain Bay Middleton, one of the guests, who could never resist a practical joke, persuaded the Prince Imperial to accompany him, in the small hours of the morning following the dance, to the summit of the tower, where he, having procured a towel hoisted it in place of the R.Y.S. Banzee. The Prince thought this was a great joke, but I never heard that the owner shared his opinion.

Shortly afterwards I was driving along a dusty road en route to Ascot Races when I passed Lord Otho's coach with the Prince Imperial upon it, but as I was covered with dust I certainly did not expect the latter to recognize me. However, when we met by appointment at Charing Cross to travel to Chiselhurst the first thing he said, with a smile, was, "Why did you cut me the other day on the road to Ascot?" Of course I had nothing to say.

On the journey the Prince talked most interestingly, and I gathered that he felt sanguine as to the belief of his ultimate succession to the throne of France. From his charm of manner and general conversation I could quite understand his popularity with his brother officers in the British Army. He did not strike me as being particularly smart in dress or general appearance, although he wore his hat well tilted on one side, and he clicked his heels in French fashion, as he had evidently been taught to do from boyhood.

On arriving at Chiselhurst we drove together to the residence of the Empress Eugenie where he gave me every opportunity of studying his characteristics, and upon the publication of his cartoon I received a letter of appreciation with a signed photograph of himself which is still unfaded, and which I greatly value.

I have drawn and caricatured and made portraits of the numerous foreign rulers, who have visited our islands from time to time. When Don Carlos (the Pretender to the Spanish throne) came to England in 1876 I visited him at Claridge's, where he was staying, to study him for Vanity Fair. I found him a very picturesque and striking figure in his uniform, which he put on for me, including the Order of the Golden Fleece. He was very obliging, and offered to lend me his uniform to use for further details, also the Order, which he begged me to treasure with the greatest possible care, as he stated that it had been handed down in his family for generations, and was, of course, of great value to him. I promised to be very careful that nothing should befall it, and when the uniform and the Order arrived I sought for a model, preferably a soldier; and incidentally asked Colonel Fred Burnaby if he knew a man big enough to wear it. He very kindly permitted his soldier-servant, who was a very fine man to stand for me, and when he came to the studio, and had donned the uniform I entrusted him with the Order of the Golden Fleece, and cautioned him to handle it very carefully. Taking it up to fasten round his neck he straightway dropped it on the floor, where it broke in half. When it snapped in two imagine my horror. It was with difficulty that I restrained my anger. On finding it broken I hurried off with it to Hancocks, the jewellers in Bond Street, who promised to mend it to the best of their ability. On the return of the decoration I could detect no flaw; it appeared exactly as it was, but the accident was costly. Needless to say I soon returned it and was thankful to hear no more about it.

An amusing contretemps occurred when I was sent by my editor to "stalk" General Ignatieff, who was at Claridge's Hotel. I had thought the best plan would be to stay there for a day or two, in order to obtain good facilities for studying him, so I arrived with my portmanteau, and endeavoured to ascertain something of the habits of the general. My curiosity resulted in old Mr. Claridge politely ordering my bag to be removed. When I informed him of my identity and disclosed the reason for my interest in the General's movements, his reply was somewhat as follows:—

"I know there is such a person as 'Spy' because I can show you a lot of his cartoons in my room, I do not doubt your word, but I have no proof and would rather that you went." But he was considerate in giving what information he could as to his whereabouts, and after saving my hotel bill I managed to catch my victim on his way from Hatfield.

In 1877 my editor was anxious to procure a drawing of Midhat Pasha for Vanity Fair, and as there was a great difficulty in obtaining an interview, I was smuggled into his presence by Mr. Gibson Bowles, who had an official appointment with him. The Pasha, it will be remembered, had just been exiled from his own country and this opportunity offered me every facility for making close observation of him who was, at the same time, ignorant of my identity or purpose.

I was fortunate in the case of Mooh-ton-oolk, Sir Salar Jung, Minister of the Nizam of Hyderabad. Sir Salar was received with great acclamation in England on account of the excellent service he had rendered to the English in the suppression of the mutiny. He also did much to break down caste prejudice. I attended his wonderful breakfast at that residence in Piccadilly which is now the Bachelor's Club. Sir Salar had brought with him to England his curry-cook who provided us with innumerable curries, of which very few were familiar to me although I enjoyed them considerably, more than that I was much interested in the distinguished company who were present. Following the breakfast my eminent host gave me an opportunity of making a sketch of him.