Forty Years of 'Spy'

"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!

My most comical search was probably one in which I was assisted 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!"

Mr. Comyns Carr, an old and valued friend of mine, always divided my work into two classes, one of which he was pleased to term the "beefs" and the other the "porks." He begged me, when I was painting his own cartoon, to put him among the "porks." I promised I would and did my best to prevent his face from becoming too florid. But apparently my labours were in vain, or else the lithographers failed me, for after the drawing was published, Comyns Carr greeted me at the club with the words, "Oh, Leslie! I'm among the 'beefs' after all!"

I regretted the fact, but unfortunately the fault was not mine. The reproduction was limited to the number of colours, so that there was no happy medium for the lithographers; if the reproducers wanted a florid effect, the face appeared red all over, if the drawing was a "pork" with a red rose in his coat and a faint colour in his cheeks, they made the face all red and used the same colour for the rose.

OXFORD DONS

One of the difficulties of my position as a caricaturist for a newspaper came home to me on the occasion of the visit to my studio of a Queen's Messenger.

I was extremely busy at the time, and was, luckily for me, quite unable to accede to his request that I should immediately make a drawing of him, as he was shortly to appear in Vanity Fair. Making an appointment for the next day he took his departure. I called upon my editor on the following day, and while in conversation I remembered my engagement, and breaking it off suddenly, prepared to go.

"Who is your sitter?" said he.

I referred to the gentleman in question, who I imagined had been sent to me from my editor.

"I won't have that man. I have made no arrangement. He's been bothering me to put him in for years."

"What shall I do then?" I said. "This is very awkward for me."

"Tell him we've got too many Queen's Messengers already."

I hurried off and found my poor rejected sitter waiting with a thick stick, the presence of which he began to explain before I could make my apologies to him. He told me that he had bought the weapon, not in self-defence, or with an idea of attack, but because he thought it was most characteristic of him.

I then had to interrupt him with my excuses which was a most disagreeable task.

"Oh," he said, "that's only an excuse for not putting me in. I see it."

He flushed very red and showed a little temper, for he had been endeavouring for some time to be placed upon the list of subjects in Vanity Fair and without success.

After some discussion, during which, in some sympathy with his annoyance, I anxiously watched the stick, he slunk out of the studio with an air greatly different from the spruce and upright demeanour of his arrival.[4 - The Queen's Messenger to whom I refer possessed the nickname of "Beauty," for as a young man he was strikingly handsome, but later in life he was no longer sought after for his good looks.]

An awkward predicament in which I was the innocent arbitrator came about through a very gross caricature by another artist (I do not remember whom) of Mr. Pigott the censor of plays and a very old friend; I believe it was unpleasant, for he wrote to me and said he wished he had been put in my hands. I do not know whether I am wrong in saying so, but it was rather odd his writing to ask my advice, for he was strongly in favour of suing Vanity Fair for libel. At all events I called upon him and advised him to ignore the matter. He reassured me by saying, "Well, I've already come to that conclusion myself since writing my letter. I've seen my solicitors who gave me the same advice, but I still wish I'd been done by you."

A friend of mine came to me once and said, "You simply must make a drawing of 'Piggy' Palk, he's such a splendid subject—have you ever seen him? I'm sure if you had you couldn't resist making a caricature of him."

"Very well," I said. "Give me an opportunity of meeting him—what's he like?"

"I must introduce you to him first, we'll get up a little dinner—he shall be there—at the Raleigh Club. We'll introduce you as 'Mr. Spy'—don't forget that he wears an eyeglass, because he's nothing without it."

When the evening came I was placed on the opposite side of the table to the young man, where I had a good opportunity of studying his features, which were diminutive, with the exception of his ears which were enormous. I waited and waited for the eyeglass to appear (for as my friend had truly said, his face was nothing without it), and finally got up from dinner full of disappointment. There were several other guests who were quite aware of my identity, and all attempted to help me in my object, but without success, a fact which created no little amusement among us.

My host pressed his friend to join our party in his rooms, and "Piggy," as his friends called him, to my horror, said that he had another engagement; when, however, he was informed that there would be attractive young ladies among the party, he altered his mind. On arriving we were received by these charming ladies, who contributed to the evening's fun by entering very completely into the open secret of my visit. We had a piano and plenty of fun and chaff, and under cover of the evening's amusement I took in "Piggy" Palk. I was introduced to the most attractive of the ladies and enlisted her services on my behalf over the eyeglass. My friend at once introduced "Piggy" to her, and she induced him to produce the eyeglass. After some preliminary conversation she began:

"Oh, Lord Haldon, I see you have an eyeglass, do you ever wear it? Sometimes an eyeglass improves a man's appearance immensely, I should like to see how you look in one."

"Oh, yes," he said, "I sometimes wear it!" And so he put it into his right eye.

"Yes, it suits you very well. You don't make such faces as some people do in wearing it."

He was flattered.

"Now I'd just love to see if you look as nice with it in the left eye."

The obedient young man, mollified by her flattery, did all he was told, while I made good use of my eyes, and the company were becoming so hilarious that they could hardly conceal their merriment while the girl went on.

"It's really wonderful how effective it is, and how it suits you equally in either eye."

Thinking he had made an impression, "Piggy" took her into a corner and made himself most fascinating, assiduously retaining the eyeglass all the time.

"He seems to be getting on very well," said one of the guests to me, in an undertone.

I was about to reply when Lord Haldon turned to me and said:—

"Do you know, 'Mr. Spy,' that it's very bad manners to whisper?"

So addressing myself to the lady, I offered my humble apologies and regrets for my forgetfulness (much to her amusement).