NOTABLE PEERS--TANGIER--THE TECKS
Peers of the Period.--My Voyage to Tangier.--Marlborough House
and White Lodge.
In 1880, the new premises of _The Daily Telegraph_ were opened in
Fleet Street. It will be remembered that the paper was originated by
Mr. J. M. Levy. When he had made _The Daily Telegraph_ a great
permanent institution he retired from the toil of journalism and left
the control and organising power to his son, the present Lord Burnham,
who maintained its reputation, and at the time of the opening ceremony
of the new offices in Fleet Street it was undoubtedly the most popular
newspaper of the day. The Prince of Wales and Prince Leopold were
present among the very distinguished and representative assembly to
honour Sir Edward Lawson, and assist at the celebration of an
interesting occasion.
When the guests began to move about and conversation became general, I
had opportunity to observe the different people, and my eye was
immediately attracted to old Lord Houghton (Monckton-Milnes). He had
come on from a state banquet, and was dressed in the uniform of a
Deputy-Lieutenant which was ludicrously ill-fitting, the tunic rucked
up in many folds, whilst the trousers, which were much too long, hung
also in folds; on his head he wore a black skull cap, which seemed
strangely at variance with his patent leather boots, and he carried a
very long stick with a crutch handle. As he moved to and fro among the
guests, his odd appearance was accentuated by the occasional contrast
of the immaculately groomed contingent, and on this occasion the
poet-peer was truly a figure of fun.
I was not alone in my observations, as while I was still gazing at him
the Prince of Wales came up to me and remarked what a splendid
opportunity was before me of making a good caricature of Lord
Houghton, and that I should never have a better. Immediately after and
quite unaware that the subject had already been broached, Prince
Leopold came to me with the same suggestion.
After the royal party had returned from supper, I noticed the Prince
of Wales and Lord Houghton in deep conversation. Lady Lawson, having
been let into the secret of the intended caricature, found me a
convenient place near one of the pillars, where I watched him
unobserved. Of course H.R.H. was amused to see our manoeuvres.
Meanwhile, Lord Houghton was, judging from his expression, telling a
wicked story to the Prince, and leant forward so that it should not be
heard by those near. As he approached the point he became convulsed
with laughter, and drawing still nearer, in his eagerness to make it
understood, he slid to the end of the chair, and was about to whisper
it to the Prince when the cushion, which was not fixed, gave way, and
he fell to the floor with his legs in the air. The Prince of Wales
picked him up, and looked at me, as much as to say, "Here is your
chance." So that I went away with two ideas in my head, one of the
entry in the wonderful uniform, and the other of the episode of
falling off the chair. I made my caricatures in full colour and
presented them in due course to the Princes, the Prince of Wales being
very much amused to find that the same idea had occurred to them both,
and I received a letter of thanks and full appreciation. Not long
after, on going into the Beefsteak Club, I found the sole occupants of
the room were Prince Leopold and Whistler, who was monopolising the
Prince's attention by reading aloud extracts from a letter he was
concocting, with the intention of administering a sound snubbing to a
tradesman who had sent in an exorbitant bill. Jimmy, who was priding
himself far more on his literary composition than the creation of one
of his masterpieces, was chuckling over the pungent satire and barbed
phrase with obvious appreciation, but the Prince was looking a little
bored, and, by way of changing the subject, he turned to me and said
that he had only just received the caricature of Lord Houghton, and
how delighted he was with it.
An altogether very different type of peer was the old Marquis of
Winchester, hereditary bearer of the Cap of Maintenance, whose office
it is to carry the Cap on state occasions, such as the Opening of
Parliament. On the last occasion on which Queen Victoria opened
Parliament in person, I recollect this Marquis, who was the last
remaining representative of the old Georgian type of beau, and of most
picturesque appearance, make a striking figure in the group. It was
the only occasion on which I was present at the ceremony, and I
remember that as the Queen was going up the steps of the throne, she
slipped.
In the early spring of 1882, having a troublesome cough which I could
not shake off, I was ordered to take a trip to Tangier.
It was indeed a novel idea to me, having travelled so little, to see
so primitive and interesting a place as it had been described to me,
and with a portfolio of unfinished _Vanity Fair_ cartoons to complete
while away, I set off on a P. and O. for Gibraltar. I arrived there in
a dense mist, which, however, passed off in a few hours.
I had a letter of introduction to Colonel Whitaker, who was in command
of the Artillery at this time, and having ascertained that there was
no boat to take me to Tangier for two or three days, I promptly
presented my letter, which was answered with equal promptitude,
inviting me to dine at the regimental mess on the following evening.
I, of course, accepted, and had a thoroughly good time. Next day I
called upon him at one of the charming villas on the Rock, to thank
him for his hospitality.
Anxious to be in the warm and sunny clime of Africa, I now lost no
time in getting on board a paddle-boat of sorts for my destination. I
didn't like the look of the morning, for it was not one that I had
pictured to myself as being appropriate to the occasion. When we were
under way, I noticed a depressing-looking group of Moors huddled up
together, who, as the vessel proceeded, grew very ill indeed, and this
didn't enliven matters. On arriving in the Bay of Tangier, the
passengers were landed in small boats, their baggage being seized from
them, regardless of instructions, by a collection of officious Moors,
who followed them with the porters to their respective hotels.
[Illustration: LORD NEWLANDS. 1909.]
[Illustration: COUNT DE SOVERAL. (_Late Portuguese Minister_). 1898.]
[Illustration: M. GENNADILTS (_Greek Minister in England for 30
years_). 1888.]
The proprietor of the Continental, Ansaldo by name, was quite a
personality and looked after his visitors with the greatest interest,
especially those who were likely to make a prolonged stay in his
hotel. Evidently anxious to make me at home, he immediately introduced
me to a young doctor who was permanently staying in the hotel, and who
"knew the ropes," and he was quite a good fellow and very useful in
showing me the way about.
My disappointment regarding the weather led me to inquire of him if it
was at all usual to see such dull skies in Tangier, and how long the
drizzling rain was likely to last. The answer came promptly, "Wait and
see," and I did for a week, when the sun appeared in its full glory
and everything was _couleur de rose_ for a long time to come.
Having a letter of introduction to Mr. White (the Consul), I lost
little time in calling upon him, and after ringing at the bell of the
Consulate and giving instructions for its safe delivery, I was shown
into the drawing-room. He was evidently occupied at the time, so I had
to wait. At last he came in, and to my astonishment handed me the
letter back, saying, "I think there is some mistake."
Being much puzzled as to what he meant, I took it out of the envelope
and read as follows (as nearly as I can remember):--
"DEAR MR. WARD,
"Mind when presenting the letter of introduction to Mr. White you
make out that you are an intimate friend of mine, and be careful
in speaking of me to call me by my Christian name, Maughan,
pronounced like Vaughan. He is a good chap and will be useful to
you, especially if he thinks you are a great pal of mine,"
etc....!
Imagine my feelings, which were indescribable; with awkward apologies
I beat a hasty retreat. Afterwards I had the face to send Mr. White
the right letter, the result being that while I was sketching in the
market-place next morning, he politely came up to me, and later on I
received an invitation to dine at his house, so all ended well.
Having made a "_faux-pas_," there was nothing now left but to forget
it, so, under the guidance of new acquaintances, I sallied forth in
pursuit of pastures new. The Socco or market-place first of all
appealed to me as a subject for my water-colour brush, and from the
hill (taking it all in) I made my first sketch which, on my return
home, Sargent happened to see and complimented me upon. The
picturesque groups of women in strange straw hats, and the Moors in
their Jhelabs, the camels, snake-charmers, and the ebony-coloured men
from Timbuctoo, were all something to feast one's eyes upon. Again,
the occasional saint (mad-man) and the strings of blind beggars were a
novelty to the stranger's eye.
In the town, what struck me first was the persistent way in which
these blind people followed one about in pursuit of coppers; many of
them I was told had their eyes simmered for some quite paltry offence
and in consequence were doomed for life. An occasional leper, too, one
came across, but he was despicable beyond description in the eyes of
his fellow-creatures.
Becoming by degrees used to the first impressions, and beginning to
generalise on the surroundings, the desire came upon me to see
something of the country, and for this purpose the hiring of a barb or
mule was indispensable.
Mr. Harris (_The Times_ correspondent) and my doctor friend were
extremely kind in showing me round at first, and with their aid and
advice I soon got to know my way about. The latter escorted me in the
evenings to the different haunts of vice, the Kieffe dens, where men
were lying sometimes unconscious from excessive abuse of the drug
(which was smoked in a small pipe), or to a rather low Spanish music
hall of a not refined or elevating character; and to while away the
time, I learnt to know how these people enjoyed their leisure hours.
I have no desire to bore my readers, with detailed descriptions of the
various weird and picturesque ceremonies that constantly engross the
attention of European visitors in Tangier, although I feel sorely
tempted while speaking of them to go on. "Sumurun" and "Kismet"
illustrate them far better than I can do, and there are many
well-written books on the subject.
My companion now suggested what he thought would best give me an idea
of the surrounding country and coast scenery, viz. a ride to Cape
Spartel[9] Lighthouse. I assented, and we hired the mules.
The view all along the route was certainly very engrossing; but at
certain altitudes, looking down on the sea, I felt as though I must
fall over into the abyss below, it being so precipitous! However, we
reached our destination in safety and I was well rewarded by the
panorama that surrounded us. After dismounting and taking refreshment,
a Moor approached with what appeared to be--rather uncanny--a
full-grown scorpion. After marking, with a piece of stick, a circular
line on the ground he proceeded to cover it with red-hot ashes, and
when this wall of charcoal was completed, to place the wretched
scorpion within the circle. Naturally, it did its utmost to escape,
but, growing weary in its attempts, arched its tail over its back and
stung itself to death. This was termed suicide, but I fear the
scorching was the cause, although it retired well into the middle of
the circle first. The performance, although curious, was distinctly
not edifying.
About now I was lucky enough to make the acquaintance of an English
merchant--Mr. Stanbury--from Birmingham who annually visited Morocco.
He knew the country and the people and could speak their language, and
not only was he a useful travelling companion, but a very nice fellow
to boot. As he was starting on a business visit to Tetuan, and invited
me to come with him, I took this exceptional advantage of joining him,
as I heard it was a place that an artist would revel in.
We were most unlucky in the day we selected to start, for it rained
incessantly. I wore a common Moorish Jhelab, which, being full of
grease, protected me from the damp. A soldier and muleteer accompanied
us, and notwithstanding that we were well mounted, our journey was not
all my fancy pictured. It is about a sixty-mile ride, and although we
plodded on, the ground was so heavy that it was useless to attempt to
get into the town that night. We therefore stopped half-way at the
Fondak where the cattle are housed, at four in the afternoon. The rain
showing no signs of ceasing, we put up for the night.
After being served with hot coffee and brandy from a primitive bar, we
lay down on straw mats which apparently had not been shaken for
months. My friend, as the time went on, being evidently used to an
emergency of this kind, calmly went to sleep; I, on the other hand,
being attacked by an army of fleas, did not get any rest before two
o'clock, when I fell into a deep slumber from which I found it
difficult to awake. As we had to make a start at three, I pulled
myself together, but in the hurry left my gold wrist-watch behind me.
The annexe adjoining the bar was occupied by the proprietor, his wife,
and a coffee boy.
We were soon in our saddles, escorted as before, and entered the gates
of the city, where the consul with others were in readiness to receive
us. We entered a mansion, and I was puzzled to know whether it was a
hotel or the Consulate, as the consul conducted us there. He was an
Eastern of sorts, that was certain, and one who was evidently
acclimatized to bad drainage, for I nearly choked as I was shown my
room. Upon realizing the absence of my watch, the soldier lost little
time in going back for it, but not finding it, brought back the
proprietor of the Fondak as a suspect.
Next morning I rose feeling very "chippy," but being somewhat
refreshed after partaking of a light breakfast, proceeded to the
outskirts of the town with my sketch-book, where I discovered some
picturesque bits.
On returning to my hotel I found a summons to give evidence in a case
of alleged robbery. The law court to which I was taken was presided
over by two picturesque elderly judges in the purest of white robes
and equally clean turbans. Our party was fully represented. The man
professed complete innocence of having even seen the watch, so
meanwhile he was kept under surveillance.
The effect of the poisonous atmosphere I had imbibed in my lodging
began to tell on my health, so I determined to get out of it and cut
short my otherwise interesting visit.
I was now on my homeward journey, and having conveyed my instructions
to the escort, viz. that if he should fail to extract a confession
from the man (who then had his arms bound with cord), he was to
trouble no more about him and leave him at the Fondak. About this the
soldier seems to have taken no heed and was obdurate, and upon
arriving there, arrested the coffee-coloured coffee boy as well, and
marched the two of them into Tangier. Although this annoyed me and I
tried to remonstrate at the time, I was powerless in the matter. On
arriving in Tangier, however, very tired, I was only too glad to
dismiss them from my mind and give orders that they should be at once
liberated, while I came to the conclusion that the woman was the
guilty party after all.
After the first ten days of North African air, my cough had gone, so
that I was quite able to appreciate the change of scene, the white
buildings, the coloured people, the superb vegetation, the mosques
(but not the mosquitoes, as the latter worried me terribly); and by
degrees the fascination of the climate, the atmosphere of romance and
adventure surrounding the interesting race amongst whom I was living,
took hold of me. My artistic sense was being constantly appealed to,
and everywhere I saw a picture awaiting my brush. The Arabs and Moors,
in their picturesque dresses, were to me extraordinarily attractive,
with their magnificent physique and bearing, and especially the
letter-carriers with their finely moulded ankles and feet with perfect
straight toes. At Tangier I was fortunate enough to behold two of the
most beautiful pictures I have ever seen. I was walking in the bay
one evening, watching the sun set like a ball of fire, dipping into a
sea that shimmered with a thousand opalescent reflections as the
wavelets rippled to my feet, when I came upon a group of swarthy,
naked fishermen hauling in their nets, which were full of leaping fish
that scintillated iridescently. With strong fine movements the men
drew them in, some standing in the water, others on the shore, their
bodies wet with the water that rolled off their mahogany skins in
pearly drops. At each movement of their superb limbs, the play of
muscle attracted my eye, and as they turned, their bodies bathed in
the amber light, I saw a multitude of scales from the fish clinging to
their bodies, like so many sequins, gold in the sun and silver in the
colder light from the east. Spellbound, I watched them falling into
groups and alternating attitudes, which in themselves were
magnificent--an Arabian Nights dream and an ideal composition for the
painter who could depict the movement, colour, and light of a scene
that few men are lucky enough to behold. I shall never forget it and
never see such beauty again, for it is well-nigh impossible that
nature should repeat such perfection, with similar conspiracies of
light, shade, and shadow in exactly the same manner.
[Illustration: GENERAL SMITH-DORRIEN. 1911.]
[Illustration: LORD ROBERTS. 1900.]
[Illustration: LORD KITCHENER. 1899.]
Another scene I was privileged to witness from the balcony of my room
(which looked down on some rocks in the bay), where I was "lazing" in
the sun one morning, when I became aware of a picturesque group of
Moorish ladies who, with their maids, were preparing to disrobe by the
sea. The process was interesting because it was so astonishingly
beautiful; after removing their outer garment and yashmak, they
appeared in robes of every imaginable colour. Garment after garment
was divested in this manner, and each one more bewilderingly brilliant
than the other, gorgeous orange, green, or scarlet, contrasted with
the cool sea and the hot African sky, the rocks looming darkly in the
background, the soft sand at their feet; and presently when a bevy of
beautiful brown ladies stepped into the water, I saw a real Alma
Tadema picture without the inevitable marble, and all the added charm
of movement and the sky and the sea.
When my visit of five weeks was at an end, and professional duties had
to be thought of, I prepared for departure, and, accompanied by the
brothers Duff-Gordon and Ansaldo (the hotel proprietor), I journeyed
to Gibraltar, where Ansaldo had formerly been a big "boss," and was
still very popular. As the first race-meeting was being held, I
accepted his invitation to witness the sport, where he offered me
hospitality in his refreshment tent. At the end of a very jolly day,
Cosmo Duff-Gordon and his brother joined me at the hotel, they having
returned from the bull-ring in Algeciras; and the next day we were
homeward bound on the P. and O. for England.
* * * * *
One of the smartest figures in Society was Lord Portarlington, known
to his friends as "the Dasher." I drew him--and there was plenty of
him--smoking his very unusually large cigar, and not forgetting the
gardenia, which was in proportion.
_A propos_ of the choice of riding in a four-wheeler or a hansom, "the
Dasher" on one occasion played heavy lead in a cab drama in which the
third person and I took part in addition to the cabman and the crowd.
We were leaving the Beefsteak Club together one night when "the
Dasher" suggested that as we were all going the same way he should
give us a lift, so he hailed a four-wheeler and we drove off. He
directed the driver to go to Grosvenor Place, but the man mistook the
way and drove on. Lord Portarlington got up to direct the cabman, I
tried to stop him, fearing his weight was too great for the springs to
bear, but I was too late--they all gave way and over we went. The
third occupant was a long thin creature, whose boots I distinctly felt
on my back as he wormed his way out through the open window, which for
the time being was in place of the roof; then I felt myself being
hauled up and extricated just in time to see the cabman dragged from
under the horse, which directly he was freed from his harness bolted,
taking the greater part of the crowd in his wake. Meantime, Lord
Portarlington remained a prisoner in the cab; just then a man came up
to me not knowing I had been a victim in the accident, and looking at
me very earnestly as much as to say, "This is a sad case indeed," said
in a hushed voice, pointing to the overturned cab, "Do you know, sir,
there is somebody in there!" At last by the aid of several pairs of
strong arms acting in concert Lord Portarlington was dragged out, but
he felt the shock badly, and was laid up for two or three days.
It must have been at the end of the 'eighties when my drawing of M.
Gennadius, who has now been Greek Minister for over thirty years, was
published. He was quite willing that I should have ample opportunity
for observation, and we dined and spent a pleasant evening together
at his club.
In 1890 Prince George of Wales gave me the honour of a sitting at
Marlborough House. His Majesty even in those days was a good sitter,
and, like most naval men, was patient withal. He was very natural and
genial in his manner, and I remember we were walking round the room
and looking at the pictures by way of a little break in the monotony
of the sitting, when Queen Alexandra (then Princess of Wales) came
into the room to know how the sketch was progressing.
It was through Mr. Augustus Savile Lumley and my father that I first
became acquainted with the Duke of Teck, whom I had the privilege to
meet on several occasions. As he had learnt that the authorities on
_Vanity Fair_ were desirous of publishing his portrait, and also one
of Princess May in that journal, he called at my studio to talk the
matter over, and eventually it was decided that I should visit White
Lodge for the purpose of receiving sittings from both.
On the first occasion I hailed a hansom to drive down there, and it
was a coincidence that while directing the driver the nearest route he
stopped me and said, "I know the way, sir--I was for some time second
coachman there!" This was substantiated shortly after when I had
related the fact to Prince Adolphus, who went out to see him.
I found on entering that Princess May was prepared to sit, so Frauelein
Bricka, her former governess with whom I had corresponded, took me
into the drawing-room and presented me to her. The Princess, whom I
had previously seen, was at once charming in her manner, and although
I am sure those sittings were not a treat for her to look forward to,
she showed admirable patience throughout.
I was not, however, fated to start my drawing under good auspices. On
that occasion I had anticipated a sitting from the Duke of Teck and
not from the Princess May, and I had brought with me blue
rough-surfaced paper which I use for men's drawings, and which I knew
would be difficult as a foundation for the unusual delicacy and
brightness of the skin and complexion of my subject. I confided my
difficulty to Frauelein Bricka, and suggested that I should immediately
go into Richmond and bring back the paper suitable for the purpose,
but she thought that as the Princess was prepared to sit it would be
better to make the best of the materials I had at hand; and as she was
so anxious that everything should go well, I fell in with the idea.
On the occasion of the first sitting the Duchess paid an early visit
to see how the drawing progressed, and after a few observations
invited me to luncheon. Occasionally the Princes came in to break the
monotony of sitting for their sister.
The Duchess of Teck was a great favourite with the people wherever she
went. She had great natural dignity, sympathetic consideration for
others, and that charm of manner which puts every one else at ease. I
remember on one of my visits, H.R.H. had most kindly invited me to
luncheon on the occasion of the last sitting which I eventually
received from the Princess. I expressed my regret, and hoped I might
be excused on the plea that I had to go down to Newmarket, and she
with her usual graciousness at once assented. When I had finished my
last sitting the Duke came into the room, and, not knowing that I was
not able to remain, said, "Well, Ward, you're going to stay to lunch
of course." I replied that I regretted I was unavoidably prevented,
which H.R.H. was aware of.
"Very curious," he said, "since the Duchess has asked you to stay to
luncheon that you refuse." He went into her boudoir and came out
completely in understanding; and slapping me on the shoulder, said,
"Poor Ward. Poor Ward, I quite understand. I'm sorry you can't stay."
The Duchess followed him in. "You refused to stay to lunch," she said,
chaffingly, "but I am not going to let you off altogether. What shall
it be, you have only to say." So I thanked her and suggested some
sandwiches and a glass of sherry.
I proceeded to pack my paints and brushes, "Never mind about that,"
said the Duchess, "Prince Francis will do it for you, and the Princess
will help him." I attempted to protest, but the Duchess pointed to the
table saying, "I command you to sit down and eat your sandwiches and
drink your wine," and by the time I had refreshed myself, my
paraphernalia was packed.
As I left the family came into the hall to see me off, and as I was
getting into my cab the footman put into my hand a packet of
sandwiches with a direction from H.R.H. that I should eat them on the
way.
I was never pleased with the result of the drawing, and to my horror
in the end the printing was extremely unsatisfactory, and in spite of
the complimentary press notices that appeared I have always believed
that the sketch of the Princess was a failure. I felt the
disappointment the more, as there had been so much willingness and
kindness to help me make a successful drawing, and also I always
feared the Duchess shared my disappointment. She came in one afternoon
just towards the end of the sitting and looked for a long time at the
sketch, and then in her kindest voice said, "If I may make a
suggestion, Mr. Ward, the drawing is not pretty enough for the
Princess. It may be, perhaps, that I, like most mothers, have an
exaggerated idea of the good looks of my children, but I admire my
daughter very much, and I do not think at present the drawing does her
justice."
I was entirely of her opinion, and the strong points of the picture
should have been the colouring and the charm of expression.
When Prince Charles of Denmark (the present King of Norway) and his
elder brother first made their appearance before the British public, a
similar reception to that with which this chapter opens was given at
_The Daily Telegraph_ office by Lord Burnham. I, having that morning
received a sitting from Prince Charles at Marlborough House, had the
honour of meeting him again in the evening, when he presented me to
his brother, the present King of Denmark. I had already met their
father, who was Crown Prince of Denmark at the time. He, like all the
Danish royal family, had the great charm of simplicity, and talked
with very great pride and affection of his family, and he told me of
all that he had seen in England, Dr. Barnardo's home for boys had made
the greatest impression upon him.
On one occasion, when I was at work upon Prince Charles's portrait at
Marlborough House, we saw a dirigible balloon sailing by outside that
roused some discussion as to their possible utility in the future.
I remember his then saying with a laugh, that before long such things
would be no novelty, and that many of us would be flying about in the
air in the near future.
His words often recurred to me during the time I was making the
_Vanity Fair_ cartoon of that enthusiastic airman, Mr. Hedges Butler,
who stood for me in the car of his balloon, which was suspended from
the ceiling in my lofty studio, and remained in it all the time I
painted him.