MEN I HAVE PAINTED
be so satisfactory to Mrs. Gladstone and Mrs. Drew, that I was encouraged to ask for sittings for a portrait, and it was then and there agreed between Mr. Gladstone and myself that I could come to the "Temple of Peace" in the mornings and paint, if I did not ask for formal sittings. In other words, Mr. Gladstone would spend his time in reading and writing, according to his daily routine, and I could catch him as I found him. He was to do his work and I mine, without considering one the other. That arrangement suited me perfectly. Here was a new aspect of portraiture, and one that strongly appealed to the passive side of my indolent nature. Why should I not take advantage of this unforeseen permission to paint portraits at my ease, and so be free from the ever-trammelling thought that my sitter was being victimized through being obliged to stare stolidly at the antics and flourishes of an uninspired and uninspiring painter? Are there not enough stark and stiff upright figures looking down at us from the walls of every public and private gallery in the universe, that I should add one more senseless effigy to the number, unless commissioned to do so by a wife who avers that her husband is always upright and his eyes brilliant? From that day to this I have set my face steadily against the formal staring portrait, and, whenever it has been possible, have painted men at home, and in their homes, always avoiding anything like studio lights and effects.
The day after this interview I began that series of paintings of Mr. Gladstone that show him in his hours of peaceful recreation and leisure at Hawarden, and in his intervals of rest in Downing Street. The next day I began the first of the series on a canvas measuring 24 X 18. The day after, the colours in the head were evenly
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