My favourite portrait--Lord Tennyson poses unconsciously before
my wife--“This beats Tussaud’s”--Sir Richard Burton--His widow
clothes the model.
Of all the portraits of my own modelling, I think, if I may be permitted
to express an opinion, I like that of Lord Tennyson as well as any. It
revives pleasant memories, and I will ask my readers if I may bring my
wife into this part of my story. By a coincidence, as I raised my eyes at
this moment, my glance fell upon a bust of Tennyson resting on a shelf in
my studio.
[Illustration: HEAD OF LORD TENNYSON (POET LAUREATE 1850-1892)
The bust modeled by John T. Tussaud, first exhibited at the Royal
Academy, London, in 1892, now in the Tussaud collection.]
About the time when I was engaged with the model of the great Victorian
poet I had rented a farm cottage near Freshwater, Isle of Wight, and
I remember my wife telling me that she frequently saw Tennyson in the
neighbourhood.
On several occasions the poet, who lived at Farringford, near by, while
taking his daily constitutional, came and leant upon the garden gate,
evidently charmed with the beauty of the place. The old thatched roof and
the quaint attractiveness of the cottage might well have given rise to
reflections in less imaginative minds than that of a poet.
I had not the opportunity of studying Tennyson’s features at that time;
but my wife, coyly hidden in a favourite spot in the garden, was able to
observe him closely. Being herself an artist of no mean ability, she thus
afforded me considerable help in the production of his portrait.
It seems strange that perhaps the most reclusive of men should have
unwittingly come forward and posed, as it were, at the very door of the
artist who was then desirous of obtaining sittings.
One day, while I was at work in the studio on Tennyson, I was visited by
Father Haythornthwaite, rector of the Catholic Church at Freshwater. The
priest was greatly interested, and he must have conveyed to the poet the
intelligence that I was about to place his figure in Madame Tussaud’s,
for very shortly afterwards I learned that Tennyson was particularly
desirous that I should bear in mind that, in spite of his four-score
years, he had not a grey hair in his head--a touch of nature that seemed
to me particularly human.
* * * * *
A nice but unintentional compliment was paid to one of our tableaux about
this time by the present King, when he was Duke of York. We complied with
a request to furnish a representation of the scene of the death of Nelson
in the cockpit of the _Victory_ for the Royal Naval Exhibition at Chelsea
in May, 1891. This tableau was founded on the famous picture by Devis,
which found a permanent home at Greenwich Hospital in 1825; and it was
very well received by the visitors to the Exhibition. The compliment to
which I allude was not heard by me, but it was reported in the Press at
the time that the Duke of York, while looking at the tableau, exclaimed,
“Why, this beats Tussaud’s!”
The tableau has been in our Exhibition ever since, and is a great
favourite with all. When the present Prince of Wales and his brother
Albert paid us a visit, the Sailor Prince looked long and intently at the
historic scene. Both boys were also a good deal moved as they gazed on
the tableau showing the murder of the two little princes in the Tower of
London--a representation over which many impressionable people have been
unable to keep dry eyes.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SIR RICHARD BURTON
The effigy dressed in the clothes he wore on his famous pilgrimage to
Mecca, modeled by John T. Tussaud.]
A great name with the past generation was that of Sir Richard Burton,
who, sixty-six years ago, in fulfilment of a lifelong dream, made
a pilgrimage to the shrine of the prophet Mahomet at Mecca when it
was believed that no Christian could go there. Besides being a great
explorer he was a man of scholarly attainments, and his translation of
the _Arabian Nights_ bears the stamp of an intimate familiarity with the
Orient.
When Sir Richard died his remarkable career became so much a subject of
general comment in the Press that the British public awakened to the fact
that a great Englishman had just passed away.
Apart from his literary achievements, the account of his exploits
revealed so great a love of adventure and so much disregard for narrowing
conventionalities as to leaven the story of his life with a very strong
tincture of romance.
When modelling his figure I saw a great deal of his handsome and stately
widow, and I am sure no woman could have taken a greater pleasure or more
pains in assisting an artist with such an undertaking. Every thought,
every action, she bestowed upon the work showed how deeply she cherished
her husband’s memory and how vividly the portrait stirred her imagination.
She clothed the model with perhaps the greatest personal treasure of
his she possessed--that is to say, the actual garments her husband wore
when he went on his famous pilgrimage to Mecca. She tarried long over
the finishing touches that should make his presentment look its best
before the critical eyes of the public should scan it. Ornaments, beads,
trappings, had each her full consideration, and the very weapons of
defence stuck anglewise in his belt were subjected to her most careful
arrangement.
Of the capacity for taking pains there was no limit in Isabel Lady
Burton’s nature; but the labour in producing the figure, after many
trying weeks, at last came to an end; and there readily springs to my
mind the pathetic picture of her bestowing upon the figure the few final
touches, her fingers lingering over the pleats and folds of his robe ere
she could declare herself satisfied that the task she had undertaken in
helping with the model had been done at her very best.
There was one little difficulty, however, that she could not quite
surmount. The costume was complete in every respect except one--the
sandals he had worn on his hazardous journey to Mecca had become, owing
to the wet and heat and the passage of time, mere tinder, and could not
be placed upon the figure.
The following brief but interesting letter explains how this difficulty
was overcome:
_67, Baker Street,
Portman Square, W.,
May 22nd, 1894._
DEAR MR. TUSSAUD,
I sent you a pair of sandals yesterday belonging to me, but
to-day I have had the promise of a pair from the Prior of the
Franciscans which would suit much better. I shall send them
directly I receive them.
Yours sincerely,
ISABEL BURTON.
The monument at Mortlake, on the Thames, within which now repose
the remains of Sir Richard and his wife, consists of a white marble
mausoleum, sculptured in the form of an Arab tent, its cost having been
partly defrayed by public subscription.