Forty Years of 'Spy'

It was a real picnic. We arrived in the steam pinnace at a most picturesque island some miles out from Vigo, and there in a rural setting, and on a particularly rugged piece of ground the baskets were opened and we sat down to a capital luncheon. The coxswain, who was a very handy man, was of the greatest use in every direction on this occasion.

By this time the seigning nets had been cast in the bay near at hand, and the Princes and their shipmates were anxiously awaiting the opportunity to set to work.

In the meantime we all strolled down towards the sea, Prince Eddy and I remaining in the rear of the main body, while he on the Q.T. and boy-like, found the opportunity of taking occasional puffs from my pipe.

On joining the others Prince George, after noticing its unusual shape politely asked if he might look at it. Evincing curiosity in its condition and with an air of a connoisseur he passed several pieces of dried grass through the stem and thoroughly cleaned it out, then after filling the bowl with tobacco and lighting it he tested it well by taking some good whiffs. Afterwards he returned it with the remark that it was now fit to smoke. The little episode amused me greatly as it was so completely natural.

By now, finding that the nets were ready to be manipulated we, one and all, tucked up our trousers and hauled them in, the Duke being the most energetic of the lot. It was warm work but not wasted, for the haul was a fine one.

During the afternoon a couple of bull fights in an adjoining field gave us a good show of a non-professional bull fight, also we saw some interesting types of Portuguese, who were entered with the other incidents of the day in Cole's sketch book. He was also clever in portraying those big-eyed, dark, and picturesque peasant girls.

I think that must have been the last of the very delightful excursions on the Lively, which ship, of pleasant memory, came eventually to a bad end, as she struck a rock and went to the bottom.

We stayed some time in Vigo Bay, and made several delightful excursions there. When on board, the young Princes did their best to kill any chance of monotony. There was a bear fight I am not likely to forget. I was in the habit of returning to my cabin for a siesta after luncheon, and on this particular occasion I think the officers on board were occupied on duty. The Princes came to pay the Duke a visit, but only to find that he had gone ashore, and things were generally a little on the dull side. I was the sole occupant of the cabin, and as they peeped in they saw me in my berth asleep, so passed on to the adjoining one (Mr. Wentworth-Cole's) in search, no doubt, of a bit of fun. Presently I got the full benefit of their inspiration, which took the form of squeezing the contents of a very large sponge from their side of the partition on to my head. It was a thorough "cold pigging" that I received, that effectually wakened me from slumber; but I rose to the occasion, and in my turn sent back the sponge. This ended in a rough and tumble which, of course, they were inviting. Cole (of the pencil) came along in the thick of it, and eventually made a caricature of the scene in the Duke's book. It represented the little bear, the middle sized bear and the big bear at play, and he called it "A Bear Fight."

It was not until we were homeward bound that the Duke succumbed to the ordeal of a second sitting for his portrait. He was an interesting subject; I made two drawings of him, the portrait which he had commanded, and which I understood was intended as a birthday present for the Duchess, and I also made a water-colour drawing in similar style to that which had pleased him of Sir Reginald Macdonald: which represented him at full length in Admiral's uniform.

After I had thanked H.R.H. for all his kindness and hospitality and the cruise was at an end, I said good-bye, and returned to London with Wentworth-Cole.

When I arrived in London, amongst the first letters I received was one from H.R.H. containing a handsome cheque in payment of the portrait.

Some little time after I was at work one morning in my studio in William Street, Lowndes Square, when the hall porter announced "a gentleman to see you, sir," and in walked the Duke of Edinburgh carrying a parcel under his arm, which proved to be a photograph of the Duchess, which he suggested I should study and left with me, for he was most anxious that I should make a drawing of Her Royal Highness, and suggested that later on her time would be less occupied, but I gathered that the proposal had escaped her memory.

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.

    "Fairfield, York,
    "1876.

"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.

    "Yours very sincerely,
    "Charles Beresford."

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.

    "Believe me,
    "Yours truly,
    "Francis Knollys."

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.