THE LAW
The Inspiration of the Courts.--Montagu Williams.--Lefroy.--
The De Goncourt case.--Irving.--Sir Frank Lockwood.--Dr.
Lampson, the poisoner.--Mr. Justice Hawkins.--The Tichborne
case.--Mr. Justice Mellor and Mr. Justice Lush.--The Druce
case.--The Countess of Ossington.--The Duke's portrait.--
My models.--The Adventuress.--The insolent omnibus conductor.
--I win my case.--Sir George Lewis.--The late Lord Grimthorpe.
--Sir Charles Hall.--Lord Halsbury.--Sir Alfred Cripps (now
Lord Parmoor).--Sir Herbert Cozens-Hardy.--Lord Robert Cecil.
--The late Sir Albert de Rutzen.--Mr. Charles Gill.--Sir
Charles Matthews.--Lord Alverstone.--Mr. Birrell.--Mr. Plowden.
--Mr. Marshall Hall.--Mr. H. C. Biron.
"The reason of the Law is ... the law."--_Sir Walter Scott._
The Law Courts held more possibilities for me than most "hunting
grounds," because I invariably found my subject without the difficulty
of "stalking" him, and with the advantage of wig and gown to add to
the individuality and relieve the conventionality of his
unprofessional habiliments. Another advantage lay in the fact that
when a barrister or a judge was conducting a case or presiding on the
bench, a host of peculiarities and idiosyncrasies became evident, and
I had the satisfaction of observing all unnoticed. In some cases the
very fact of being "on the spot" refreshed my memory, for on one
occasion I forgot the features of a certain judge, and felt I must
have another glimpse to recall them before I could revive my
inspiration. Oddly enough, I recollected him perfectly the moment I
set my foot upon the steps of the Law Courts, and, returning to my
studio, I completed the drawing.
I found my friend Montague Williams (who perhaps defended more
prisoners than any counsel of his day) an inestimable help when I
wished to find an especial opportunity of watching any well-known
criminal or legal character. Besides being a busy lawyer, he had a
considerable personal knowledge of the men with whom, during the
discharge of his duties, he had come in contact, and whom he regarded
with more sympathy and kindness as to their possible reclamation than
many men in his profession. He always found it necessary to believe
fully in the innocence of the persons he was defending; and as he was
naturally very excitable, he would work himself up to fever pitch,
bringing tears to his own eyes as he described with pathos and
righteous indignation the overwhelming injustice of the case against
his client. His enthusiasm usually impressed the jury immensely. I
recollect his saying once in an access of sentimental appeal: "Think,
gentlemen--think of his poor mother!"
The Lefroy case was a curious and very unpleasant affair; probably my
readers still remember the strange story of robbery and crime in a
railway carriage, and the long and continually iterated innocence of
the accused man whom my friend was defending. I went down (as I was
curious to see the prisoner) to the Law Courts with Montague Williams
one day. Lefroy's physiognomy was in itself almost enough to condemn
him in my eyes--for his bad mouth, weak face, and chin that seemed to
have altogether retreated, with the abnormal head with a very large
back to it, all gave me an impression of latent criminalism. As I
returned with my legal friend in the cab I ventured to say as much to
him.
"Good Lord, man," he said. "Look at yourself in the glass ... if
appearances went for anything you'd have been hanged long ago."
I had neglected to shave that morning, it is true; but in spite of my
omission I felt a trifle overwhelmed by my friend's verdict, much as
it amused me.
At the De Goncourt trial (one of my early recollections) I sat next to
Irving. I was busily engaged in making a sketch of Benson, who had
been brought into the witness box with his latest decoration of broad
arrows, and I remember that Irving congratulated me upon my drawing.
On another occasion I watched Frank Lockwood (as he was then)
listening to a case as one of the general public, pencil in hand,
ready to portray anything that struck him. The case before the court
concerned an accident to a pedestrian (a Scotchman) who was summoning
a carter or the company he represented, for damages. The carter
accused the plaintiff of drunkenness on the occasion of the accident,
when he alleged that the man was so drunk that he reeled up against
the wheel of his cart. I was amused to see Mr. Lockwood make a quick
sketch of a drunken highlander attired in a kilt reeling against a
cart wheel, with a glimpse of the Strand in the background, and send
it up to the judge.
In the case of Dr. Lampson, the poisoner, I passed notes to the
prisoner who mistook me for Montague Williams' clerk. Williams had
defended the man on a previous occasion, but this time the charge was
a grave one, for the accused was said to have visited a young relative
(who stood between him and a sum of money), and given him poisoned
cake which set up such violent symptoms that suspicion rested upon the
doctor. The death of the boy, following shortly after, led to the
arrest of Dr. Lampson, who was tried and found guilty.
One of the earliest cases I attended attracted great attention at the
time, owing to the sensational evidence which embroiled Lord Ranelagh
in a plot with a Mrs. Borradaile. This was due to the clever and
unscrupulous plans of a Madame Rachel Leverson, who successfully
obtained money in this way, and who was finally convicted of
misdemeanour and obtaining money by false pretences. The case made a
considerable furore, because during cross-examination the accused
appeared to divulge the fact that the aforesaid lord had bribed her to
let him look through the keyhole while her client underwent the
process of being made beautiful. The whole affair turned out to be a
fabrication.
One of my earliest caricatures for _Vanity Fair_ was that of Mr.
Justice Hawkins drawn from memory in 1873. He had the reputation then
of being the most good-humoured in the Law Courts and the possessor of
the hoarsest voice of any judge. He once said it was worth L500 a year
to him. The last time I saw Lord Brampton (for he became eventually a
law Lord) was after the opening of a Parliament, when the peers and
peeresses were waiting for their carriages, and there was a tremendous
downpour of rain. Standing with his peer's robes wound round and round
his body, the famous judge made a most grotesque figure, in tight
little trousers with his silk hat slightly on one side, an eyeglass in
his eye, and a big umbrella over all. He resembled a resplendent
hawk.
The Tichborne case gave Hawkins a chance to excel himself, and he
proved to be on the winning side. I sketched most of the principal
movers in this game of law, which was played round "the claimant,"
whom I recollect quite plainly as he sat at his table, which had a
half circle cut into it for his unduly large stomach to fit in. Of his
illiteracy (if poor spelling goes to prove it) I have a personal proof
in a letter which ends,
"_beleive_ me,
"Yours truly,
"A. C. TICHBORNE."
I once sat in the court, watching him, with pencil in hand ready to
jot down upon my shirt cuff anything I especially noticed, when he
caught my eye, called the usher, and spoke a few words to him. It was
duly intimated that my presence was "extremely disturbing to the
claimant."
The claimant's counsel, Dr. Edward Kenealy, Q.C. (and the one man on
record who was supposed to have ruffled Hawkins's temper), was said to
have believed in the claimant to the day of his death. Dr. Kenealy
made his name in the Tichborne trial. He was, besides being a lawyer,
a writer and poet (and an admirer of Disraeli) before the stupendous
case arose to give him a field for his powers. I remember him as a
little man with a wig that contrasted strangely with a sweep of beard
and a firmly set mouth. When he rose to speak he placed one hand under
his gown as though it might have been coat tails and used his right to
point emphasis at his opponent.
Some years afterwards, when I was walking near Brighton, I was very
much interested to see his tomb in a churchyard there, or rather a
very elaborate monument that had been placed there by the late
Guilford Onslow.
[Illustration: AUGUSTUS HELDER, M.P. (_A Proprietor of the
"Graphic"._)
1896.]
[Illustration: MADAME RACHEL. (_Made ladies beautiful forever. She
loses her case and is imprisoned?_)
1865.]
[Illustration: LORD RANELAGH. _Witness against Madame Rachel._]
[Illustration: BEAL, M.P. _Radical_
1869.]
[Illustration: FIRST LORD COWLEY.]
[Illustration: BARNUM. 1888. _Sketched at Victoria Hotel._]
[Illustration: SIR H. COZENS HARDY _on board a cross-channel steamer._
1900.]
[Illustration: THE VERY REV. THE DEAN OF CHRISTCHURCH, FRANCIS PAGET.
1894.]
[Illustration: SIR RODERICK MURCHESON _coming from a levee._
1868.]
Mr. Justice Mellor and Mr. Justice Lush, both Judges in the Tichborne
case, came under my pencil at the same period.
Justice Lush wore the oddest round wig with the suspicion of a dent on
the top. He always reminded me of a champagne bottle, with this
queerly shaped wig like a cork on his head, and his shoulders sloping
down like a bottle. As a judge Mr. Lush attempted humour. _Vanity
Fair_ labelled him "a little Lush," because when he was told that the
toast had been changed from "Women and Wine" to "Lush and Shea," he
said, "A spell of sobriety will do the Bar no harm, and a little Lush
may do the Bench some good."
Sir John Mellor was noted for his unwearied patience and extreme
impartiality on the Bench. When I caught him, he sat sucking his
little finger and listening carefully to the counsel for the claimant
stating his case as he watched the Court from under his heavy-lidded
eyes, over which his eyebrows slanted with sudden fine lines to his
big nose, while his humorous mouth seemed ready for a wry smile.
A trial with which I was indirectly associated, and which aroused at
the time a furore only to be equalled by the sensation created by the
Tichborne case, was the Druce-Portland case. For the benefit of those
readers who have forgotten the facts, I will give a slight outline of
the extraordinary story.
The fifth Duke of Portland was a very eccentric old gentleman. He had
several peculiarities that rendered the mystery surrounding him even
more involved, and his odd habits gave rise to the most extraordinary
rumours.
The reluctance to show his face or to hear other people was sometimes
alleged to have been the result of a fatal quarrel with a brother, and
it was said that the Duke, after the affair, retired more completely
from public life. He became more eccentric than ever; his servants
were taught to play the piano to him. He resented any recognition by
his servants and employees, and was accustomed to travel in a special
carriage built for himself hung round with heavy curtains, in which he
would travel to the station. The coachman had orders to come and go
without scrutiny or inquiry, and frequently he was quite in the dark
as to whether he conveyed his master or not. At the station the
carriage was placed upon a special truck, and so the Duke travelled to
town.
His hobby was building. Five hundred workmen were employed to build
and excavate museums, libraries, and a ball-room under the lake, and
all the plans and models were prepared by himself.
It is said that after making a fine collection of paintings, the
Duke's further peculiarity led him to destroy in a huge bonfire
several thousand pounds worth of them.
In his personal appearance he was remarkable for an excessively high
hat, a strange ulster and trousers that were invariably tied round the
ankles with string. He habitually wore a very old-fashioned wig, and
never stirred out, wet or fine, without a great umbrella.
In 1880, the Duke, whose habits had grown more and more unaccountable,
died, and immediately afterwards, his sister, the Countess of
Ossington, commissioned me to paint a life-sized portrait of him, and
shortly afterwards Mr. Boehm was asked to model the bust. I therefore
lost no time in having a cast of the head taken; a beautiful thing it
was, showing how refined the features must have been in life.
Lady Ossington then gave her ideas of how she wished the portrait
composed, and suggested that the Duke should be seated in his study
with plans of buildings or of gardens that he might be designing,
introduced as likely accessories, and, of all things, a sunset
appearing in the background of which he would never tire. A
considerable correspondence ensued between Lady Ossington and myself
and her written descriptions helped me considerably.
"Viscountess Ossington presents her compliments to Mr. Leslie Ward,"
one of the letters ran, "and sends him an Inverness tweed cloak that
used to be thrown lightly on when looking at plans before going
out...."
When all this was fully described, the valet paid me a visit and
brought with him his late master's clothes, his hat, stick, and wig as
well as the cape which was of characteristic cut, at the same time
informing me that the frock coat was always rather loosely made.
My great difficulty was to procure a suitable model to sit for the
clothes. At last I got the address of one, an old man from Drury Lane,
who, I learnt, had been a super. He called upon me in answer to my
letter, and I instructed him to come to my studio, showing him the
clothes he would have to wear. As it so happened, he came long before
his time, and was shown into the studio. He had evidently dressed
himself up ready for me, but very carelessly, in the late Duke's
early Victorian frock coat suit. When I arrived, there was this
elderly gentleman seated on the throne with his own clothes on the
floor. On approaching him I found him to be fast asleep and snoring.
Being naturally disgusted and annoyed I ordered him quickly to change
and be off. He wore a silly smile and with the Duke's wig on all awry
he fumbled away at his coat tails. He was trying to explain to me that
his change in coppers were in the coat. He could not have been sober
on his arrival, but when giving me to understand that he had only been
round (in this costume) to have a glass "at the pub," I confess it
inwardly amused me.
I was now obliged to procure the services of another model, and this
time a _real gentleman_ turned up. He was also elderly, and not
prepossessing in appearance, but nevertheless bore the traces of
better breeding than the Drury Lane super. He had a ponderous and
high-bridged nose of a purple hue which contrasted with his saffron
face, and his eyes were tearful with evident sorrows of the past.
When he had changed his rusty suit and knee-bagged etceteras for a
spruce frock coat and equally dapper trousers, he sat in the
gold-backed chair with the air of a duke while I prepared my palette.
As I commenced to paint, he began to talk and to relate his
experiences in the past. He had, according to his story, started life
as an officer in a cavalry regiment, and the love of gambling became
so irresistible that he lost fortunes. Now, he said, he was determined
to make amends for his folly in the past, and by the aid of his
sympathisers he knew he could redeem that social position which he
formerly held. That he must have decent clothes to start with, went
without saying, and those who heard his story, he was convinced, would
help him to procure them--of that he was sure. Had I any to spare? (Of
course I saw what he was leading up to), and so the talk went on in
this maudlin way till he had to be pulled up, and I had to remind him
what he was in my studio for.
Possibly there was some foundation for his story, for that he had
received a decent education there was little doubt.
Some time after he finished these sittings, he turned up again with a
young woman whom he introduced to me as his wife. She was anxious to
become a model too, but I fear by this time he was in little request.
It occurred to me that he must have related to her some very plausible
stories before they could have entered into matrimony.
Then, one morning, upon taking up the paper, I read a thrilling story
of how an artist's model had so cruelly treated his wife that she died
in consequence. It was a charge of manslaughter. This was the very
man, but although in his drunken moments he had behaved as a
brute-beast, evidence went to show that when sober no one could have
treated her with more consideration and affection, so he got off with
imprisonment, but died in gaol (it was said of remorse) shortly
afterwards.
Before quite completing the face, and as I had been told of the
extraordinary likeness that existed between the Duke and his sister,
it occurred to me that a few touches from Lady Ossington herself would
enable me to improve the portrait. I therefore, with some difficulty,
persuaded her to give me a sitting which really proved useful. Anyhow,
I received the kindest letter from her expressing her thanks for the
satisfactory way in which I had completed my work, and this naturally
pleased me, for it was no easy task.
Very shortly after, she wrote again, saying that although it was her
intention to leave the portrait to the present Duke to be permanently
hung in the Gallery at Welbeck, it had been arranged that it should be
temporarily lent for the approaching visit of the Prince of Wales. In
consequence of her anxiety for its safe delivery, I undertook to take
it down myself, and Lady Bolsover, who was there at the time, invited
me to stay the day. I was fortunate in finding among her guests a lady
whom I knew, who kindly showed me over the place, and thereby
satisfied my curiosity, especially when we came to the underground
passages of which I had heard so much. I must say that after Mr. Henry
Savile (his neighbour at Rufford) had related stories to me about the
Duke, the mystery existing in my mind was somewhat dispelled
concerning him. No doubt he was eccentric, but so much must have been
human in him that his interesting personality predominated. Although
he took little nourishment he seemed to have worked hard both
physically and mentally, and to have possessed tastes of a high order.
Mr. Savile would often see him with his trousers tied with tape, much
like the workmen on his estate, not only directing them in their work,
but like one of themselves using the spade, although they were
forbidden to recognize him by either touching or raising their caps.
Ages after the picture had passed out of my mind, I happened to be
dining with friends, when I was introduced to an American lawyer. He
was full of stories, as might be expected, and he told us one (of an
extravagant order) which he said would lead to a very big case in the
Courts of Law in which he himself would appear. The story was too
impossible to believe; in fact, I was rude enough to tell him so.
When the case came into Court I was astonished (as were many others)
to read the (to me) incredible story of the claim of a Mrs. Druce, who
announced that the late Thomas Charles Druce, an upholsterer of Baker
Street, had been none other than the late Duke. T. C. Druce was
reported to have died at Holcombe House, and it was alleged that he
had never been buried at Highgate Cemetery; also, according to report,
the servants at Holcombe House had stripped lead off the roof to
weight the coffin, to indicate that there was a body inside.
Other evidence was produced to show that Druce was alive several years
after his reported death; curious coincidences pointing to a
similarity of habits between Druce and the late Duke were sworn to by
many witnesses.
The employees at Druce's Baker Street Bazaar said that Druce would
never appear when an aristocratic or Royal patron asked for him, and
also that, like the Duke, he disappeared for considerable periods, and
was known to enter his office from an underground passage leading from
Harcourt House. Other significant peculiarities were mentioned--such
as Druce's habit of tying his trousers with string round the ankle,
the high hat and the old-fashioned wig; and photographs of the Duke
and Druce were published in the papers. But I became extremely
interested in the case when a point arose as to the date of the Duke's
alleged marriage with a Miss Crickmer; it was stated to have occurred
in the year 1816 (at this date he was only sixteen and a half years
old), and this question was met with a reproduction of my full-length
portrait of the Duke, which was stated beyond doubt to have been
painted during the period of the Duke's residence at Bury, when he was
Lord Tichfield. I regretted that I was not in Court and able to
contradict this extraordinary statement; but I felt assured that the
Druce claim would prove to be without foundation, and was not
surprised to hear eventually that the case had been quashed by the
opening of the Druce vault, where the presence of the body put an end
to the allegations of the Druce family.
An extraordinary incident which happened with alarming suddenness, and
which nearly brought me into unpleasant contact with the law, occurred
one night when I was coming home from my club. I usually preferred to
walk, for the exercise was beneficial to me after a hard day's work.
It was not conspicuously late, and I was walking along lost in thought
when a girl whom I knew as one of my models approached me and said
rather breathlessly, "There's a woman and two men following you;
they're dangerous characters, I feel sure--do take a cab--please!"
I was about to expostulate as this interruption was rather in the
nature of a surprise, but before I could speak, she begged me
excitedly to "Take a cab," and as a hansom was passing, hailed it and
began to bundle me in.
"Really," I began, "why all this excitement? What is the matter?"
At that moment a big woman who looked rather like the adventuress in a
Melville melodrama, as far as I could see (she was heavily veiled),
came up and addressed some very insulting remarks to the little model.
"Oh, good heavens!" I said, and got into the cab. The girl jumped in
quickly and called at the same time to the driver to hurry.
"What is all this?" I said in the cab as I saw her looking anxiously
out of the window.
"Let's go another way--she's following us," replied the girl, who
appeared to be shaking with fear.
"Oh," I said, "never mind. Let's drive quickly."
The other cab was following, and I wondered what I was "in for," when
we drew up at my studio--the girl appeared to be so terrified that I
gave her my key and told her to go in while I prepared to settle
matters. As I alighted, I saw two rough-looking men getting off the
back of the other cab. They looked such thorough blackguards that it
occurred to me the girl's fears were not without grounds.
Before I could pay the cabby, the woman alighted and started to abuse
me, while the bullies lurked behind.
Catching sight of a policeman sauntering up the road, I called to him
to rid me of my unpleasant companions, but at his approach the woman
changed her tune to a sort of snivelling self-righteousness, and said
to the constable:--
"This man's my husband, I've just caught him in the very act of going
off with another woman, he has deserted me cruelly."
The man looked from my face to hers in immediate understanding, and
said in conciliatory tones, which betrayed a strong Lancashire accent.
"Why doant ye go 'ome with yer wife?"
"You ass. She's no more my wife than you are," I said hotly--for I was
furious.
"I have the marriage certificate," broke in the woman with a
well-simulated sob.
"Look 'ere," remonstrated the policeman. "Come naow," and he tried to
force me into her cab.
This was too much for me.
"Look here," I said angrily. "We'll end this farce. I'm going to the
police station, and you shall come with me."
So we drove off in our respective cabs, by now the two men had
disappeared. At the police station, the woman still kept up her
foolish acting; after hearing my case, the inspector cross-questioned
her. "What name?" She thoughtlessly gave her own, not knowing mine,
and once again referred theatrically to the marriage certificate.
An expression of dawning remembrance passed over the inspector's face,
and after opening another book, he turned the pages until pausing, he
read quietly for a moment.
"Yes, I have it," he said. "You were imprisoned for violent assault,
fined, and were only released yesterday. You had better go about your
business."
The woman did not appear disturbed or non-plussed when she knew her
identity was exposed, but still dogged my footsteps. After my
experience of the evening, I refused to go home without a police
escort, and all the way my strange adventuress followed us, still
abusive, until at last, on nearing my studio, she disappeared. I found
my door open as the little model had left it when she had evidently
fled in her fear to her home.
I often wonder what object the woman and her two attendant blackguards
had in pursuing me. I am glad to think I escaped with a whole skin
from an incomprehensible adventure.
Another episode which resulted in my actually appearing in the courts,
this time not as a spectator, but as the plaintiff in a case which I
brought against an omnibus company, occurred some time back.
I happened to be returning from Queen Anne's Gate, where I had spent a
busy morning's work upon a portrait, and I was due at my studio to
meet another sitter. Having very little time to spare, I partook of a
hasty cup of coffee and some light refreshment in lieu of lunch, and
hastily jumped on to an omnibus going in the direction of Chelsea.
After a brief interval a lady sitting in front turned round to me as
we were passing Ebury Bridge and said, "Would you kindly ask the
conductor for me if he will give me my change. I've spoken to him
several times and without effect."
"Certainly," I replied, and called to the conductor.
"What do yer want?" he answered tersely, without turning his head.
"I want you to give this lady her change as she is getting down almost
immediately and says she has already asked you for it."
"_You've_ got her change," he replied to my astonishment. "I must have
given it to you by mistake."
Finding that I only had the sum of twopence halfpenny in my pocket, a
penny of which I was holding in readiness for my fare, I was not
deceived by this convenient way of shifting the responsibility of
fivepence on to my shoulders. But as his manners were so insolent to
the lady and to myself, I was determined to ascertain the man's
number. Of course he refused to give it me, and covered the badge with
his coat. My destination was coming nearer every moment, and in spite
of my having such little time to spare, I descended from the top of
the omnibus to the footboard, and the man's insolence increased when
he realized my resolve to proceed a little further until I gained my
point. I was considerably hampered with a parcel containing a
drawing-board in one hand and an umbrella in the other, but I tried to
tug at the strap which held the badge, at which the conductor turned
round suddenly and said:--
"No, you don't," and taking advantage of my having no available hand
to protect myself, pushed me off the omnibus.
I fell heavily on to the kerb, and in consequence hurt my arm
considerably. At the same moment a tradesman who knew me rushed to my
rescue and excitedly said:--
"I'll take your parcel ... you can rely upon me ... you know me, sir
... lose no time ... you catch 'em."
I got on my feet with some difficulty and attempted to pursue the
omnibus, but the conductor was pulling his bell violently and urging
the driver to hurry. Finding it impossible to overtake them, I hailed
a passing hansom and persuaded a policeman, who, for a wonder,
happened to be near, to accompany me. We drove quickly, catching up
the omnibus at its stopping place--Chelsea Town Hall--where we got
down. The policeman, taking the case in hand, produced the usual note
book, and proceeded to take the man's name and number (which had been
the "_casus belli_"). When asked to state the case, the conductor
said in unguarded tones:--
"The man's drunk, and he's got my money!"
I presented my case to the magistrate at the Westminster Police Court
then and there, and shortly afterwards the conductor was summoned to
appear; but the solicitor who represented the Omnibus Company asked
for time to call witnesses, so the case was postponed for a week.
[Illustration: LORD COLERIDGE.
1870.]
[Illustration: MR JUSTICE COZENS HARDY.
1893.]
[Illustration: H. C. BIRON.
1907.]
[Illustration: E. S. FORDHAM.
1908.]
When the second hearing came on, and I had as my counsel, Mr. H. C.
Biron (now the police magistrate),--by the way one of my three
witnesses was the late Sir Evans Gordon,--I was much amused by the
witnesses appearing against me. There was the driver of an omnibus
which had been immediately behind the one I was thrown from, who said
he had a full view of the whole incident. Under cross-examination he
gave his version of the affair.
"That man," pointing to me, "got off the 'bus by 'imself--nobody
touched 'im ... I saw 'im."
"What else did you see?" asked Mr. Curtis Bennett.
"Well ... I saw 'im tumble down."
"How would you describe this gentleman--was he carrying anything, for
instance?"
"No," replied the man, "but 'e 'ad 'arf a cigar."
"Funny that you should have observed half a cigar and not a large
parcel!" remarked Mr. Bennett.
"Can you describe him further?"
"Well, 'e 'ad a coat on and 'e 'ad long 'air."
Mr. Bennett smiled. "The gentleman in question is in court now--you'd
better look at him--I don't think we could accuse him of long
hair--you may stand down."
As I returned home that evening I heard the newsboys shouting
something almost unintelligible, and caught a momentary glimpse of a
poster bearing the words "Victory for----" Having a distinct curiosity
to see who the Derby winner might be, I bought a paper and saw the
poster "Victory for 'Spy,'" "'Spy' and the Conductor," "Result," and
so on, both of which amused me immensely, as I had not imagined for
one moment that the case would be brought into such undue publicity.
For some time after the affair of the omnibus, I was a considerable
sufferer from my arm, and was under a doctor, whose fees I could
probably have demanded in compensation from the company. I did not
wish, however, to pursue the matter further, since I had only brought
the action in the interests of others besides myself. The appeal
failed; and the conductor had to pay L5.
Although I have caricatured a very large number of men at the bar and
on the bench, I have not a proportionate number of personal anecdotes
to tell of my subjects, for as I have stated, they were chiefly the
result of studies from memory. As a result of my observations during
criminal cases I have witnessed, I drew Sir Henry Poland, Montague
Williams, Serjeant Parry (who was a great friend of Dr. Doran's and my
father's), and Sir Douglas Straight (who became an Indian Judge). I
was present not only at the farewell dinner given in his honour on
that occasion, but also at that given him on his retirement from the
editorship of the _Pall Mall Gazette_. In those days his great
intimacy with Montague Williams (whom he frequently opposed in Court)
gave them the nickname of "the Twins." After his return from the East,
Sir Douglas was made editor of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, a post he held
until a few years ago. He was an able man and a good editor. His
cartoon appeared previous to his becoming a judge.
Sir George Lewis never got over his, which was the outcome of a study
during the Bravo trial; and even when he was nearly eighty he admitted
as much to me.
A strikingly unconventional looking man was the late Lord Grimthorpe,
who came under my observation in '89; he wore a swallow tail coat, and
never carried a stick or an umbrella. He had somewhat the appearance
of a verger, although his was a strong, determined face. He was great
in church matters, and seemed never happier than when putting up the
backs of the Bishops during a debate in the Lords.
Sir James Ingham I studied, like most of my legal subjects, from
memory, but to make variety from the other magistrates, I caught him
in the adjoining yard and produced him in the act of deliberating in a
case of cruelty to a horse.
Sir Thomas Chambers, Recorder of London, was a favourite subject
(among the early cartoons), and one of my funniest caricatures. He was
a delightful kind of gentleman, but owing to a chronic affection of
his eyes, always carried his handkerchief in his hand to wipe away a
tear, looking all the while as though he had lost his best friend.
Sir Charles Hall, who followed Sir Thomas as Recorder of London, was a
great social success, and a favourite in Royal circles. He was as
popular at the Garrick Club as he was in country houses. I met him
first at Glen Tanar while on a visit to Sir William Cunliffe Brooks,
where I shot my first stag. He was an exceptionally fine rifle shot,
and "brought down" many there.
Lord Halsbury, a late Lord Chancellor, was another subject for whom I
have the greatest admiration, and he is one of the very remarkable men
of the day. His eye is as bright and his brain as clear as it ever
was.
Sir Alfred Cripps (now Lord Parmoor), was very amusing to study and to
draw, and my sketches of him fill a book. I believe he is in himself
quite as fascinating a person as his varying expressions in Court led
me to find him.
Sir Herbert Cozens-Hardy, Master of the Rolls, is another
characteristic subject. Three times I have done him in various
capacities for _Vanity Fair_.
Lord Robert Cecil I caught as he walked up and down Whitehall in wig
and gown, during the South African case upon which he was at the time
engaged.
Some of the judges were very tolerant of an artist taking liberties
with their idiosyncrasies. The late Sir Albert de Rutzen, the Bow
Street magistrate, was an exception. He was most strict, and always
had a keen eye for any one whom he suspected of sketching in Court.
During the Crippen trial, a lady who sat next to me, a personal friend
of Sir Albert's, warned me to be very careful not to let him discover
my object in coming to the court or to appear to be watching him for
the purpose of caricaturing him. As I was very intent upon obtaining a
nearer glimpse of him, I sent a letter of introduction to Sir Albert
and asked him if he could give me a few minutes to take a note of his
features. As he was very busy at that time he suggested I might return
another day about lunch time, when he would give me the time I
required. Perhaps he was rather forgetful, for when I arrived at his
rooms at the hour appointed I was told Sir Albert could not possibly
see me. But this disappointment did not deter me from carrying out my
object, and in due time the cartoon appeared in _Vanity Fair_.
[Illustration: CHARLES WILLIAMS-WYNN, M.P.
1879.]
[Illustration: SIR JAMES INGHAM.
1886.]
[Illustration: LORD VIVIAN (HOOK AND EYE).
1876.]
To go through the list, and to mention all the caricatures and
drawings I have made, would take so long that I can only mention a few
of the present-day barristers and legal celebrities, some of whom I
number amongst my friends.
Charles Gill, the famous K.C., whom I have known for years, I drew in
'91. He is Recorder of Chichester, and a brilliant barrister with a
cheerful and wholesome countenance. He now lives the life of a country
squire when he can find time to do so.
Sir Charles Mathews, whom I also number amongst my old friends, is one
of the kindest-hearted men I know, in spite of the fact that he could,
if it was necessary in Court, make the most cutting observations in
the least unpleasant way. He was, by the way, the bosom friend of the
late Lord Chief Justice, Lord Russell of Killowen, and is the Public
Prosecutor.
When I made a drawing of Mr. Birrell, I was much amused by his telling
me that Mrs. Birrell was particularly pleased with the portrait,
because it would be a continual reminder to him to pin his tie down,
which I had depicted in its usual place, somewhere above his collar.
I observed Mr. Plowden (who was not exactly an advocate of Woman
Suffrage) at a dinner held by one of the Women's Societies, where I
sat opposite to him, and was much amused to watch his face as a
speaker alluded to magistrates in a manner that can hardly be termed
polite. As Mr. Plowden was a man of humour, the reference evidently
appealed to him, if one might judge from his expression.
Lord Alverstone I met in a similar way as the guest of the evening at
the Punch Bowl Club, when I had the honour of being in the chair and
the pleasure of hearing the Lord Chief Justice sing the Judge's Song
from "Trial by Jury." It is noteworthy that he was a teetotaller and a
great Churchman. He was always willing to preside or give his
patronage to any occasion when he could aid athleticism in any shape
or form, for he had been a great athlete and runner in his day.
The present Lord Chief Justice, Lord Reading, (Sir Rufus Isaacs) is
one of the most delightful men I have ever met. He is, as everybody
knows, a great worker, and I remember he told me that, after his
strenuous sittings, he went away for three months' holiday every year,
and during that time, nothing, not even the lawyer's brief, could
induce him to remember that he was a K.C., or lure him away from his
well-earned rest. He thoroughly believed that only by this method of
holiday-making was he enabled to work as hard as he did at other
times.
Mr. Marshall Hall (to whom I am related by marriage) is one of the
most versatile of my legal subjects, for besides being a K.C. and a
late member of Parliament, he has the advantage of being a fine shot,
a good golfer, a clever mimic, and a wonderful judge of precious
stones, of old silver and of _objets d'art_ generally--of which he has
a very exceptional collection. As a _raconteur_ he is unsurpassed, and
in consequence most amusing company.
My friend, Mr. H. C. Biron, the magistrate, who is also a lover of art
and a delightful host, is still a bachelor, and lives in a gem of a
house in Montpelier Square, where my drawing of him is placed on the
walls. As the son of an eminent "beak," he was born into the very
atmosphere of the law, and the Starchfield case was perhaps the most
sensational that has as yet come before him.
Nor must I forget to mention the very popular K.C. member for
Cambridge, Mr. P. P. Rawlinson.
[Illustration: SIR ALBERT DE RUTZEN.
1909.]
[Illustration: MR PLOWDEN. _From an unpublished sketch._
1910.]