MEN I HAVE PAINTED
new joy of my old friend, whose song was being danced as well as sung.
I enjoyed painting Monkhouse, because he was a good sitter, a good and sympathetic talker, and he had an interesting head. And I am glad I painted him, because this tale can be told.
The portrait was done, years before the above garden scene occurred, in the oak-panelled room at Murestead, where I also painted William Richards, the American sea painter, Croal Thomson, and where I should have painted Phil May, as he came in one day, all booted and spurred from a ride in the park. A little incident in connection with this portrait is worth telling. At a crowded entertainment, where Onslow Ford and I were jammed in among a number of Academicians, Herkomer squeezed through the crowd to where we were standing and said to me, "I like so much your little portrait of Monkhouse; I will give it a good place," and then passed on.
When he was out of hearing, Ford said, "He should not have told you that; it is contrary to the etiquette and rule of the Academy. Just imagine what you would think, if your portrait did not get a good place, or even was not hung." I had not been surprised by Herkomer's frank praise and promise; but I was very much surprised and even hurt by Ford's attitude and his censure of Herkomer. I would not have missed the open compliment for all the secret etiquette in the world. And Herkomer was quite sure of himself and true to his word; for the Monkhouse was given a centre in the gallery allotted to small canvases.
But it is painful to have to tell that some years after this a similar thing happened, and I had to suffer the
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