Philip de Laszlo:Signed and Finished

"Philip de László in his Studio at 3 Fitzjohn's Avenue, London"

"On Philip de Laszlo's return to England in the spring of 1937 he felt well enough to paint Lord Nuffield for St. Peter's Hall, Oxford, and at the unveiling of the portrait the Master said that de Laszlo was the only man who had ever been able to make his Lordship sit still for a prolonged period, and even so had painted him in the act of getting up.

It was coronation year and he had many request for sitting, among them the Duke of Portland, and Prince Chichibu of Japan, whom he showed in military robes and the Princess in a blue kimono, the Duchess of Northumberland, a second portrait of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Dawson of Penn, and Sir Henry Wood for the Royal Academy of Music.

In October he went to Bagshot to paint the Duke of Connaught. He made these arrangements without the knowledge of his studio attendant, or of Lucy, fearing that they would disapprove. The portrait was finished on the morning of 20 October. The same afternoon Mrs. Lancaster Cooper came for a final sitting. This was the last portrait de Laszlo signed.

That evening he attended a livery banquet of the Worshipful Company of Glaziers and Painters of Glass. He left early and while on his homeward journey had another heart attack. The chauffeur drove him straight to Lord Dawson. The attack passed, but he had to remain in bed, and for a week or two it was hoped that he would make a good recovery. On 20 November he received the news that the Regent of Hungary had conferred upon him the Badge of the Corvinus Order of Honour, Hungary's highest award for artistic or literary merit. 

He was eager to be up and about to help in the preparations for an exhibition of his portraits in New Bond Street in aid of the London Hospital and the Artists' Benevolent Institution. But he had tried himself too hard, and on the afternoon of 22 November, the eve of his exhibition, he died. Before he lost consciousness he said to his nurse: 'I know I am going to die. I don't mind, for I shall go to new experiences. But it is a pity, because there is still so much to do.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Last Royal Portraits

"Queen Marie, the Queen Mother of Romania"

"While staying at Cannes in February, 1935, de Laszlo received an invitation from the Hungarian Government to paint a second portrait of the Regent. In Budapest he had a great reception. He found time to see those of his relatives who were still alive and had invitations showered upon him. The illustrated papers were full of pictures of him. He received letters of welcome from unknown painters, requests to criticize the work of child-artists, appeals for autographs. 

Hungary at last accepted him as one of her most distinguished sons. After the neglect and hostile treatment of the past he was glad of this final reconciliation with his own country, and was deeply touched by a letter from a journalist asking pardon for the derogatory remarks he had made about him during the war. 

Early in the following year de Laszlo went to Bucharest to paint what was to be his last portrait of a reigning sovereign - King Carol - for the National Bank of Romania. He first painted another portrait of Queen Marie, the King's mother, then the King in full uniform, and a sketch of Prince Michael. 

When the portraits were finished, Lucy joined him in Bucharest and they left together for Constantinople and the Holy Land, returning to England in May. The holiday seemed to have done him good, but in August he had an attack of angina and was ordered a complete rest for several weeks. He had to cancel all his engagements, staying in bed and, tired as he was and in pain, he fretted at being there.

When he was better he decided to test his strength by painting the aged Mr. Edward Tuck for Dartmouth College, New Hampshire, a portrait which shows, as a friend observed, 'How beautifully a noble man may support the weight of ninety-eight years." He began to dictate his memoirs, but still he could not be kept from painting, and had a relapse. He was ordered to rest after each sitting and never paint more than four days a week."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Winding Down

"Eva Frances Guinness" by Philip de Laszlo

"In March 1930, Philip de Laszlo was elected President of the Royal Society of British Artists, as successor to Mr. Walter Sickert. This appointment gave him intense pleasure. He saw in it the long delayed recognition of his colleagues, and wrote in his diary 'Glorious day!' He threw himself with zeal into his office, determined to do his best to serve his fellow artists.

His life was very full. When he was not painting, he was fulfilling social engagements, and during the weekends played golf with great enthusiasm. But he began to complain of feeling tired, and the death of Miss Eva Guinness, Lucy's sister, saddened both Lucy and himself. She had been a true friend to him, and he never forgot a kindness.

He himself made resolutions to think more of his age and to live a quieter life. He lost nothing of his zest for work, but his fashionable lady sitters grew more and more irksome to him. He called them 'uninspiring women.'

He was longing to have time to paint subjects of his own choosing. 'For years now,' he told a friend, 'I have wanted to paint a large picture for my own pleasure, a subject in connection with the late war, and for that reason I intend to go on to Rome from Paris, where I shall stay until Easter away from my many social duties and portrait work here. The subject of the picture is not men fighting, but the still nobler part of suffering women at home; women of all classes in a chapel surrounding the burning candles for the fallen souls. I have been trying for the last ten years to do this picture, but have not had time, and I do not want to wait until I get much older.'

He never found time to paint this picture, although the plan was in his mind until he died, and he went so far as to arrange a little chapel at the far end of his studio. He did, however, begin one notable picture for his own pleasure, and obtained permission from Lord Cromer to make a study of the staircase of St. James' Palace with two Yeomen of the Guard: a scene which had stirred his imagination when attending a ceremony at the Palace, when he had presented his sons Stephen and Paul. But this, too, he did not finish."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Time's Winged Chariot

"My Nubian Servant, Aswan"
by Philip de Laszlo

"To show Philip de Laszlo in his continued success would be to overpaint the portrait. But his last years may not be neglected, although they are less significant to his career those which had gone before. He continued to work unremittingly, often neglecting the warnings of his health. Indeed, there were periods when he painted harder and faster than ever before. That he would have been a better painter had he worked more slowly is unlikely. He himself maintained that his best work was always be done at high speed. But it is safe to say that it would have been better for his art and his health if he allowed himself more rest between his pictures. 

He had no need to drive himself so hard. He was receiving 2,000 guineas for a full-length portrait, and though he lived expensively, his income was large enough for all his needs. But he had never known what it was to rest. To him leisure was like a book in the hands of a man who cannot read. He had lost nothing of his zest for social life, but that did not give him the spiritual relaxation he needed.

The mind of every creative artist must lie fallow for a while. He himself felt the need of reflection and enjoyed it in rare moments, even determined to give more time to tranquility and meditation. Then life caught him up again and whirled him off once more at a headlong pace. He could not resist. There was so much for him to do, and while he had health and strength he must be doing it. It was as though Marvell's lines were daily ringing in his head:

'Always at my back I hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near.'

'Never was I so overwhelmed with demands for portraits as at this time,' he wrote, and he continued to work hard. In January 1929, he arrived in Cairo to paint King Fouad. He was excited and full of hopes as he always was when stimulated by an important commission and a new country. At the end of the month he was joined by Mrs. de Laszlo and his son Paul. When he had finished the portrait King Fouad made him a Grand Officer of the Order of Ismael, and the de Laszlo family cruised up the Nile to Luxor and Aswan. For the first time for many years de Laszlo tried sketching in watercolors. 'But,' he wrote, 'I was not satisfied. It needs too much practice.' He did, however, complete several studies in oils, including an excellent sketch of the Temple of Karnac.

On the family's way back to England they stayed in Florence, and de Laszlo was distressed to find his self-portrait in the Uffizi Gallery more badly cracked than it had been in 1914. 'The picture as such gives me no satisfaction,' he wrote. 'I have changed much in my way of painting and propose to exchange it for another one which I am going to paint.' But he never did."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter. To see all of his portraits just from 1928, click here.)

Philip de Laszlo: Reinstated

"Randall Davidson, Archbishop of Canterbury"
by Philip de Laszlo

"It had been a memorable day. In the morning Philip de Laszlo had painted a queen. In the afternoon the highest in the land had come thronging to his studio to see his portrait of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The party had been the greatest social success of his career. One can see him in his garden on that sunny July afternoon, bustling among his guests - voluble, eager, magnificently alive. It meant so much to him, all that.

The position of a portrait painter is quite different from that of any other creative artist. He must needs be in closer personal contact with his public than the landscape painter, the writer, the composer. These may remain aloof from the men and women who appreciate their work. But a portrait painter, particularly what is known as a fashionable portrait painter, must have some quality of personal attraction to attain popularity. He may bully his sitters or he may be charming to them. He cannot be negligible is he is to make his way.

It has been said of Sargent that he rarely painted a sitter without making an enemy. De Laszlo rarely painted a sitter without making a friend. He certainly owed much of his early success to this ability to make himself liked. He had many barriers to break down, particularly when he first came to England, but his personal charm and his gallant manner won the hearts of those he met.

He could not have succeeded without his talent; nor could he have been so successful without his charm. In his life, as in his art, he looked for the best in people, and thus tended to bring out the best in them. He knew how to keep his sitters interested and animated while he was painting them. That was important to his work, and it meant that they left his studio stimulated instead of bored. Scores of letters make this abundantly clear - letters of appreciation. The unanimity of their regard is quite extraordinary, and explicable only to those who knew him.

During his internment and adversity his true friends had remained loyal; others had turned against him. Society as a whole, among which were the potential sitters, had cast him out, and, had been slow to accept him after his legal reinstatement. But on that afternoon in July, 1926, they had responded to his invitation and had come to him. The leaders of English life had accepted him once more without reservation. To him it was the ultimate vindication and the assurance of his position in the days to come. It was the peak of his career."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: The Queen of Spain

"Queen Victoria Eugenia of Spain"
by Philip de Laszlo

"July 2, 1926, was a momentous day for Philip de Laszlo. The Queen of Spain had signified her desire to be painted for the fifth time. The description of it is best given in his own words:

'Before the Queen's arrival, her German maid, escorted by a detective, brought her jewelry including her tiara. Our butler, Webster his chest resplendent with metals won during the Great War, stood at the gate. I waited on the studio steps, and Lucy stood inside with a bouquet. Her Majesty arrived punctually at 10:30 a.m., accompanied by her brother. 

It was just two years since I had last seen her when she visited my exhibition at the French gallery. She looked splendid, more beautiful than I have ever seen her, and her blonde hair and coloring were still as lovely as ever. As always she was most gracious and was pleased when Lucy offered her the flowers. Then she dressed and put on the tiara. She looked magnificent. [She also wore a long diamond necklace, which, along with the tiara, had been wedding presents from King Alfonso XIII. The necklace was originally shorter, but every year the King gave her new diamonds to extend it.]

As usual she inspired me, and tired though I was, I pulled myself together and began to paint after making a pencil drawing. I immediately attacked the canvas I had previously prepared in its frame. The painting progressed with lightning rapidity. I was quite unaware of the time, so carried away was I by my enthusiasm. 

Throughout my career my best work has always been done when I have painted without much consideration and very quickly. I had been at work half an hour when the queen's mother arrived with her lady-in-waiting. They were all astonished with the rapid progress of the portrait. In fact it was so far advanced that I was able to leave it on view that afternoon. Her Majesty left at 1 o'clock.'

It would appear from her signature in the artist’s sitters’ book that the Queen also sat for him on July 7, 1926. Upon its completion she presented it to her mother, and after her death it was hung in the Queen's drawing room in Lausanne until her own death."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

Philip de Laszlo: Honors

"Mrs. Chichester de Windt Crookshank"
by Philip de Laszlo

"Philip de Laszlo felt that it was unfair that, as a British subject, he should not be allowed to wear foreign orders. In the previous year he had painted the King of Sweden in London and His Majesty had conferred upon him the ancient Order of the Vasa. The Swedish Minister in London, when presenting it to de Laszlo warned him that the British Foreign Office would probably not allow him to wear it. Whereupon de Laszlo wrote to Lord Derby asking that an exception might be made in his case. He was politely informed that the regulations permitted a British subject to wear a foreign decoration only when it had been conferred in recognition of official services, not as a reward of personal merit. 

De Laszlo felt this regulation to be ungenerous and illogical. 'How many men are plastered with stars like a Christmas tree,' he complained, 'for their so-called service to the country, and yet I,who receive an order for my personal work am debarred from wearing it!'

Orders Conferred on Philip de Laszlo

• The Order of Art and Science, Bulgaria
• Knight Commander of the Austro-Hungarian Iron Crown 
• Knight of the Order of the White Falcon of Sace-Weimar
• The Order of Pope Leo XIII
• The Hohenzollern House Order
• The Order of Art and Science, Hesse-Darmstadt
• Commander of the Prussian Crown, 2nd Class
• Officer of the Legion d'Honneur
• Member of the Victorian Order
• Commander of the Order of Isabella the Catholic of Spain
• Commander of the Royal Order of the Saviour of Greece
• Knight Commander of the Order of the Vasa, Sweden
• Grand Officer of the Order of the Crown of Italy
• The Order of Pope Pius IX
• Knight of the Order of Jesus Christ, Portugal
• Grand Officer of the Order of St. Charles of Monaco
• Grand Officer of the Order of Ismail, Egypt
• The Order of Merit, Hungary, with star
• Grand Officer of the Order of Cultural Art of Romania
• A.D.C.Badge, Queen Marie of Romania
• The Corvinus Order of Hungary

  Medals

• Bavarian Silver Medal, 1892
• Hungarian Bronze Medal, 1896
• Hungarian State Gold Medal, 1897
• Paris Salon Gold Medal 2nd Class, 1899
• Hungarian State Gold Medal, 1900
• Papal Gold Medal Leo XIII, 1900
• Exposition Universelle, 1900, Gold Bronze
• Austrain Gold Medal, 1902
• Carl Ludwig of Austrain Gold Medal
• Prussian State Gold Medal
• Gold Medal Grand Prix of the City of Venice
• Louisiana Exposition Gold Medal, 1904
• Munich Gold Medal, 1905
• Barcelona Gold Medal, 1911
• Hungarian Gold Plaque, 1912
• Barcelona Gold Medal, 1929
• Royal Society of Arts, Silver Medal, 1936 

 To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

 

Philip de Laszlo: Other Subjects

"An Algerian Woman from Biskra"
by Philip de Laszlo

"It was not until early in 1923 that Philip de Laszlo was able to take his wife for their first real holiday since the war. They spent some time in Algeria. He was excited and delighted by all he saw, and enjoyed painting Arab types, and making sketches of the sunsets over the desert. 

On their way home they stayed in Palermo and Naples. One afternoon after visiting Pompeii, they walked to the summit of a hill overlooking a plane. De Laszlo was carried away by the view. 

'In front of me,' he wrote in his diary, 'were six large umbrella-shaped pine trees, their deep green tones kissed by the setting sun. The distant mountains were a light warm lilac. There was a small village below us, and the foreground was a lovely emerald green. The whole scene was as brilliantly colored as an opal. I sat down, and while Lucy was busy writing postcards, I painted a study of the scene. My heart rejoiced to be able to preserve in color something of that splendor.'

'I feel regretful that I have not painted more landscapes in the past. It seems to me there is only one right method of painting landscape - to paint a résumé of Nature and to try to do it in one sitting, and a larger picture in not more than three. I hope I may be able to do this when I reach Rome. I am longing to paint to my hearts desire in the open air.'

If God grants me health, I hope I may come back next year. I wish I were ten years younger so that I could do more work. But my heart is young and my health is good. I hope to do what I have missed when I have earned enough to pay off the expenses of our new home, but for six months I shall be obliged to work for the government in order to pay off my supertax.' In June the first exhibition de Laszlo had held since the war opened at the French Gallery in Pall Mall. He showed over sixty portraits, including a few examples of his earlier work, together with some of the landscapes and Arab studies he had painted during his holiday.

Commenting on the sketches and studies which had been included in the exhibition, a writer for 'The Studio' declared that they were too significant to be dismissed as the diversions of an artist who as a rule was occupied in work of more importance, and regretted that de Laszlo did not allow himself more opportunities to deal with subjects outside his regular range of practice, which is what, in fact, he so often longed to do."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Regaining Ground

"Mrs Frank Ashton Bellville"
by Philip de Laszlo

"Philip de Laszlo's internment left its mark upon him until his death, but, once he was free, he set to, like the fighter he was, to win back the position he had lost. He was only 51. He had his home, his wife, his boys, and many friends who had proved their loyalty during his distress. He had earned nothing for two years, during which time he had had to provide for the education of his five sons, but his talent was unimpaired and he believed that suffering had deepened his vision.

Like a brave man, he began to paint again with all his old enthusiasm, confident that now his name was cleared he would soon re-establish himself. In doing this he had little difficulty. He began painting again at West House Studio in the middle of July and by the end of the year had completed twenty portraits, which earned him 8,000 pounds.

The following year he worked harder than ever, and completed no less than forty-two portraits. By the beginning of 1921 de Laszlo was able to feel that he had, in some measure, made up for those two wasted years. He was invited to show some of his latest work at the National Portrait Society's exhibition. The illustrated weeklies took to reproducing his portraits again in full page reproductions. 'The Studio' published an appreciation, and in its series entitled 'Modern Painting,' devoted one issue to his work with a number of reproductions in colour. With commissions coming in faster than he could execute them he was once more assured of the future.

With the idea of making sufficient money to cover the heavy expenses of his new house and studio he had planned a visit to the United States, where he looked forward to a busy three months carrying out promised commissions and others he hoped to obtain. 'I must get calmer,' he wrote, 'and I must be sensible and smoke fewer cigarettes. I must become altogether more sensible in my daily life. I forget my age, for in heart and ambition I remain a young man.'

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

Philip de Laszlo: Vindicated

"Sir Charles Russell"
by Philip de Laszlo

"Although the nursing home was an improvement on Brixton Prison and Holloway Internment Camp, the continued confinement told upon Philip de Laszlo's nerves and his health began to suffer grievously from prolonged worry and lack of exercise. Lord Devonport recommended de Laszlo to put his legal affairs into the hands of Sir Charles Russell, who then very generously offered to lend his own country house, if the Home Secretary would agree to de Laszlo's removal there. Permission was given on medical grounds, provided that de Laszlo gave his parole not to go more than three miles from the house, and that a detective from Scotland Yard should pay periodic visits.

It was a great change for the better, for besides the house being in the country, Mrs. de Laszlo and his sons were able to join him. In thanks de Laszlo painted Sir Charles' portrait, which gave the lawyer great delight. A close friendship sprang up between them. 

But now a fresh anxiety confronted de Laszlo. In 1918 Parliament had passed the British Nationalities Act, the main purpose of which was to introduce wider powers for the revocation of certificates of naturalization. They could now be revoked in cases of proved disloyalty, serious criminal offenses, bad character, and where the individual had acted contrary to the declaration made on naturalization. Before de Laszlo could hope to obtain his freedom, it was necessary that this Committee should examine his case. 

He pressed Sir Charles to hasten his case on. 'I told Sir Charles what I thought about the whole affair. I called the men who had done this harm to me criminals, without any sense of chivalry and said I felt it my duty to my five sons to fight until my name was cleared in the eyes of the world. I said I would fight till the last breath of my life and would not rest till the world knew the truth about how I had been treated.'

Sir Charles wrote to him sternly, 'If you take up an attitude of complaint about the treatment meted out to you, your case is lost from that moment. Such a course of conduct is absolute madness. Do not forget that you broke the law, and, therefore, the treatment sustained by you was brought upon you by your own unwise and foolish conduct.' That was plain speaking, and de Laszlo acted upon his advice.

After much investigation and deliberation the Committee was satisfied that they had probed the matter to the bottom. They found that, first, no disloyalty had been proved; next, that although there had been breaches in the law, they had been inadvertent and had stopped when discovered. And with regard to the Horne incident and to the case generally, they were satisfied that there had been nothing in de Laszlo's conduct which would merit, or justify, the withdrawal from him of British citizenship. He was cleared of all charges.

The announcement brought a spate of congratulatory telegrams, letters and postcards, many written the same night. The de Laszlo boys returned to school after the case, and they too shared in the congratulations. As Sir John Simon told Sir Charles Russell, it had all happened in a terrible time, when everything was out of joint, and de Laszlo became the victim of circumstance - and, it may be added, of the inhumanity to man which the strain of war produced, not so much in the hearts of those who fought as in the minds of those who remained at home."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Healing Begins

"Patrick de Laszlo" by
Philip de Laszlo

"'When I arrived at the nursing home,' wrote de Laszlo in his journal, 'Lucy, looking bright and happy, met me with flowers. A lofty drawing room, with three large windows opening on to a terrace, had been converted into my living room. In my unexpected happiness my nerves gave way and I broke down completely and wept. 

It was a happy, sunny day. Lucy stayed with me until I had had my supper, which I ate eagerly. It was the first time I had had an appetite for many months. After I had been there three days, enjoying the lovely grounds, the quiet garden and listening to the birds, I had, for the first time for nine months, the pleasure of holding the dear palette in my hand again and with great delight I started a sketch of my son Patrick before he left home to enter Twyford School. It was wonderful to be surrounded by my old friends the colour tubes and brushes after so long. I painted from three o'clock until seven, with a short interval for tea. I forgot myself in my work and finished the portrait. I am happy about it and shall treasure it as my first painting after my arrest. So long as I had my dear palette and my brushes in my hands I felt young.'

A few mornings later he made a pencil drawing of Patrick and thus describes his delight in returning to this medium:

'Patrick sat very well and tried to help me, as he knew how little time I had at my disposal. I did a little portrait drawing of him, three-quarter length, looking in front of him. The boys are changing so fast that I wish I had made more drawings of each of them.

Drawing often interests me much more than painting. It is so much more difficult and serious - to study the form of the face, to take the most characteristic features, and to bring out the expression - with a pencil. All this is much simpler when painting in color, for in color the likeness is easier to attain, and by aiming at securing the atmosphere and values, one is inclined to neglect the actual drawing. In brushwork treatment one is inclined to work for the general impression, while drawing is reduced to lines in one color, which is far more difficult, since it requires still more knowledge and understanding.'

At the nursing home de Laszlo's health improved. Since his arrest his weight had gone down from twelve and a half to nine stone (175 lbs. to 126 lbs.), and he spent his time walking in the garden and painting. His wife visited him every day and often brought with her their youngest son, John, then five years old."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

Philip de Laszlo: From Brixton to Holloway

"Alfred Lys Baldry" by Philip de Laszlo*

"After Philip de Laszlo's arrest Mrs. de Laszlo had received innumerable letters of sympathy, not only from his intimate friends and from past sitters, but also from many people he knew only very slightly. Many of his fellow artists, including Mr. John Lavery, wrote expressing they are consternation and regret. Convinced of his integrity, although few denied that he had acted unwisely, prompted by his kind heart and impetuous nature, and everyone was anxious to help him.

Fortunately after de Laszlo's first hearing, he was given the option to move from Brixton Prison to Holloway Internment Camp, which he chose to do. He arrived at the camp in a taxi, with his belongings, accompanied by a prison warder. 

He wrote: "The building had formerly been a workhouse and was surrounded by a garden. After Brixton Prison it seemed to me like Heaven - no high brick walls, no heavy iron gates, no warders with their jangling keys.

I was given another number and joined the other '14b' men - interned British subjects 'under suspicion.' I was given a large corner room with four windows. Among my companions was Dr. Whitehead, an eminent chemist and a delightful man, and Herr Ahlers, the former German Counsul-General, who had been condemned to death for helping some of his fellow countrymen to leave England. 

We all assembled every evening at seven o'clock in the dining room. I was given a place at the center table, which was known as the 'aristocrat table.' I felt happy to be among intelligent men, to have a comfortable room and to be able to got out into the garden when I liked. It was a relief, too, not to see the terrible convict uniform everywhere. I thanked God that I was able to sleep in a decent bed again, and was free of the cell door with the observation glass in it which had upset my nerves so much at Brixton.

The so-called reconsideration of my case took place at the end of December. The judge read out to me a list of foreign sounding names, mostly of people I had painted. There was only one name, that of a Dutch nobleman, I did not know...but then these had come from my address books, one of which was twenty years old. The judge was content and after this I was dismissed."

Although the meeting had seemed to go well, the order for his internment at Holloway remained in force. The war had now been in progress for three years. Anxiety and abnormal conditions bred suspicion and propaganda bearing its fruit of intolerance and hatred. De Laszlo was subjected to repeated attacks in the newspapers. His name and reputation were sullied before the world. Beside the devotion of his wife his great consolation was the loyalty of his friends, but the strain and humiliation of his position so undermined his health that he had a nervous breakdown. The Home Office then gave permission for him to be removed to a nursing home on condition that he gave his parole not to go outside the home, or to communicate with any person but his wife and children."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

*Alfred Lys Baldry was an artist and art critic who wrote his first article on Philip de László in 1911, after the artist's successful exhibition at Agnew’s that year. He soon became de László’s firm friend and the only visitor outside the family allowed at the Ladbroke Gardens nursing home during the dark days of internment.

Philip de Laszlo: Arrested

"Philip Alexius de László, His Wife Lucy 
and Their Son Henry"

"For a month after the escaped Hungarian soldier's arrest, Philip de Laszlo heard nothing more from the police and continued to work. He had promised to make a sketch of Lady Yarborough's son, who was on the point of going to the front, and arranged to do it in a single sitting of four hours on the afternoon of August 15. 'I have a very heavy day in front of me,' he said to Mrs. de Laszlo as he left the house. How heavy a day it proved may be gathered from the pages of his journal:

"As I stepped out of the carriage at Waterloo, I was accosted by two men, one of whom asked me if I were Philip de Laszlo. Much surprised, I asked him who he was and what he wanted. 'I am Detective-Inspector Parker of Scotland Yard,' he replied, 'I must ask you to come with me. I will show you my warrant in the taxi.' In the taxi I read that I must give these men every facility to examine all my correspondence and search my premises.

Leaving the detectives opening the drawers and searching all over my house and studio, Inspector Parker took me to Scotland Yard. I was not left alone for an instant, and was treated like the most dangerous criminal.'

After an interrogation de Laszlo was permitted to return home. He continues:

' For the next three weeks I lived in constant anxiety as to what would happen next, and both my wife and I were conscious of being followed by detectives. But since nothing further happened I was beginning to think that Scotland Yard had realized that their suspicions were unfounded, when, on 21 September, the blow fell.

It was a beautiful sunny morning and I had gotten up early as I had a sitting in London. In the afternoon I had arranged to paint the little niece of Miss Wilson Wood. As I left the bathroom, the parlour maid told me that two gentlemen had called to see me. I went downstairs, where I found Inspector Everest and another police officer. He then told me he had a warrant to arrest me and take me to Brixton Prison. I considered that such injustice could not be other than a passing event and that I should be freed in a short time. I packed enough for a week, not dreaming that it would be nearly two years before I saw my home again. 

Here opened for me a new world of which I had never dreamed. We drew up at the huge iron gate of the prison. When I had signed the warrant the Inspector left me. I was escorted to a room by three warders, who took from me everything I had in my pockets, andeven my umbrella. From my dressing case they removed my razors and scissors, as a precaution against suide. I was then photographed in profile and full face, with a black slate on my chest with my number, and I had to write my signature on it in white chalk. 

Having had my measurements taken, I was escorted to a small cell. The heavy iron door was locked and I was left alone. There was a small window with a heavy iron grating. The door had an observation glass in it, through which the warders could look. The cell was furnished with an iron bedstead, screwed to the wall, a small table, a chair, and in one corner, a small basin. Half an hour later I was let out for exercise in the yard. Immediately a crowd of about thirty men gathered round me, and I saw at a glance into what sort of company I had been thrown. I felt in utter despair.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: War, Pt. 2

"The Honourable Marguerite de
Fontaine Drever Joicey"

"On the morning of July 17th, while Philip de Laszlo was painting the Honorable Marguerite Joicey, an incident occurred which was to have disastrous consequences. The details are so important that they are best related in Philip de Laszlo's own words: 

'About 12 o'clock, while I was hard at work, my servant Rose Murphy, who had been with me for nine years, handed me a note on a tray saying that the man who had brought it was waiting. Thinking that it was merely a begging letter, I told her to open it and read it to me as she often did while I was painting. She could not read it as it was written in Hungarian. 

I then read the letter, which bore the address of some hotel and ran as follows: 'I am here in great distress. I am a reserve officer of the Hungarian Army. If you could see me I should be obliged. If not, I will go away.' The letter was signed Arpad Horne.I thought that if the man were in real trouble, I had better go down and see him. 

I found him to be a nice looking young fellow of 20 or 21, but he was trembling. He asked if I could give him some money. Telling him to wait I went back to the studio, but I could only find 10 shillings. I borrowed a pound note from my sitter and also gave him the address of a Hungarian acquaintance I thought might be able to help him. 

Then he told me that he had escaped from the internment camp at Donnington Hall. 'You should not have come to me,' I said. 'You have put me in a very awkward position.' Later when I talked the matter over with my wife I realized even more fully the gravity of the situation and decided that however distasteful it might be, I must inform the police that the man was at large.'

The following afternoon de Laszlo went to the police station, taking the envelope with the address the man had initially sent up to him. He told the inspector exactly what had occurred and a written record was made of his statement. The young man was arrested the same afternoon, and sent back to Donnington Hall.

De Laszlo continued: 'When I gave him the money I certainly had no disloyal intention towards England. I was moved to pity by the man's plight, but as soon as I realized that I had acted foolishly I did my best to remedy any harm that I might have done. Later, when I told the whole story to my solicitor, he declared that he would have done the same with an Englishman abroad. 'What you did was only human,' he said.

Few who in imagination could put themselves in de Laszlo's position would disagree with his solicitor's opinion. But the law takes no cognizance of motive in such a case, and de Laszlo would suffer for his humanity."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: War, Pt. 1

"James Robert Dundas McEwen"
by Philip de Laszlo

"When Philip de Laszlo's naturalization as a British citizen became known in Hungary, the Budapest newspapers began to attack him, declaring that he had changed his nationality to escape serving the country of his birth. "Whatever may have moved Laszlo to take this step,' declared the 'Budapesti Hirlap,' 'The Hungarian State and the Art Corporation must realize what their duty is. He cannot remain any longer a member of the Hungarian gentry, or of the Hungarian Senate of Fine Arts. Nor should he be allowed to remain in the ranks of the prominent Hungarian artists who represent Hungarian art in the Florentine Uffizi.' 

The Austro-Hungarian Government also confiscated his money. When he went to live in England in 1907, he had left a significant fund in a Viennese bank and had used the interest for sending remittances to his family and poor relatives in Budapest, including his mother, who unhappily died without being able to see her artist son. 

Meanwhile he contributed generously  to British war charities and responded to Mr. John Lavery's public appeal that artists should paint two portraits of those serving the King at a fee of 50 pounds, which should be presented to the Artists' Benevolent Institution. He painted more and donated more than the suggested number. He also gave paintings to the Red Cross and many other organizations to help them raise funds. He signed a petition drawn up by naturalized Hungarians expressing their loyalty to the King and making offers of service.

Even so painful incidents and examples of prejudice against so-called alien enemies increased. The Royal Academy informed him that the President and Council must reject his portrait of Lord Devonport for the 1915 exhibition, since they had decided not to exhibit any works by natives of countries at war with England, whether naturalized or not. Then de Laszlo was asked to resign his honorary membership in the Royal Society of British Artists, and received a curt intimation from the Imperial Arts League that the membership of all alien enemies, including those who had been naturalized, had been suspended. An old friend wrote to him, 'It seems curious that Art should be in any way governed by war. I always hoped Art would be cosmopolitan, just as it is God-given.'

All this time de Laszlo was being watched by the police, although he did not know it. Many of the letters he had sent and those which his family wrote from Budapest, had been opened and translated. His books and correspondence were investigated, but even though the conclusion was that he had done nothing wrong, he was about to face a more devastating trial."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: British Citizen

"1st Viscount Hudson Ewbanke
Kearley Devonport" by Philip de Laszlo

"Although Great Britain declared war upon Germany on 4 August,1914, she did not declare war upon Austro-Hungary until the 10th. On 29 August Philip de Laszlo was granted a certificate of naturalization. The date is important, because he was subsequently accused, both in England and in Hungary, of having secured the status of a British subject to save himself from the consequences of the war.

This accusation was entirely unfounded. The thought of becoming a British subject had been in his mind long before the war. In 1912 he had written to his brother telling him of this intention. He made a similar statement in an interview he gave to 'The Pall Mall Magazine' of the same year. He had also told a number of his British sitters as well.

He had not, however, taken steps to obtain his naturalization papers in that year. There seemed no immediate hurry. He was absorbed by his work. He let time go by. Moreover, he was loath to change nationality during the lifetime of the Emperor Francis Joseph, who had bestowed upon him a patent of nobility, thus honouring him as no artist but Munkacsy had ever been honoured in Hungary.

The old Emperor lived on, however, and meanwhile the de Laszlo boys were growing up. It was mainly for their sakes de Laszlo had decided to become a British subject, for by the law of his country the child of a Hungarian father who attains the age of fourteen is a Hungarian subject, wherever he may be born or reside. His eldest son Henry had his thirteenth birthday on 11 June, 1914, and the same month he discussed British citizenship with Lord Devonport, who offered to become one of his sponsors. 

De Laszlo had fulfilled the requirements entitling him to a certificate of naturalization, since he had lived in England for more than five years, could show that he intended to continue to live in Great Britain, and was vouched for by four men of unimpeachable character. He had signed his papers by 21 July and they were lodged at the Home Office on the 28th, although his certificate was not issued until after the war had begun. 

As soon as he had signed the papers he regarded himself as a British subject, and on 27 July he wrote to his brother:

"My hand trembles when I think in how serious an hour I write these lines, and I fear that while I sit quietly here at my table and write, already perhaps many brave Hungarians have lost their lives on account of the predatory Servian nation. Another serious thing has also happened. I have signed the papers relating to British citizenship, and for three weeks past have been a British subject...It cost me a severe mental conflict, but on account of my five sons I had to do it.'"

As we shall see, this decision would cost him very dearly in the years to come.

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Honors

"Philip Alexius de Laszlo," 1911

"As the months passed, Philip de Laszlo became increasingly glad that he had come to live in England. His facility for making himself liked served him well and broke down the barriers of English reserve, with its instinctive mistrust of foreigners. He became popular in London society and thanks to his friendship with painter Alfred East, his fellow artists accepted him. He was elected an honorary member of the Royal Society of Portrait Painters and of the National Portrait Society and joined the Arts Club and the Burlington Fine Arts. He himself held an exhibition at the Dowdeswell Galleries where he showed 38 pictures, including those of King Edward and Queen Alexandra, Princess Victoria, President Roosevelt and others.

At that time the Italian Government invited de Laszlo to paint a self-portrait for the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, the highest official tribute that can be paid to a living artist. The invitation came just when he was preparing for an exhibition of his works at Agnew's Galleries in Old Bond Street. Characteristically, he could not wait to paint the portrait, but determined to have it finished in time to include it in the exhibition before it went to Florence. He completed it only a week before the opening day. The picture shows the artist in his plain linen smock with palette and brush in hand, as though intent upon his work, and scrutinizing the face of a sitter with the alert and critical expression which was so familiar to all who had seen him painting.

His biography was also being written by Baron bon Schleinitz. De Laszlo wrote him: 'When I received the flattering information that you had been asked to write my biography, my first feeling was one of pleasure and then one of sadness. A monograph, one feels, suggests the conclusion of a man's life, and, thank God, I feel very far from the end of mine. I shall still hoist my sail high and struggle and work to attain the greatest of all aims: to come nearer to the achievement of the highest in art. I am happy to be able to say that in each of my works I can perceive progress. I believe it to be my duty to reproduce and to exalt all that is noble, beautiful and significant in mankind. A portrait should be a likeness or a decoration, but should also have the power to inspire and to exalt,. May I always paint my portraits as a lover of humanity! True art can be born only when we allow ourselves to be influenced by the highest and the greatest.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Portraits of the Roosevelts

"Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, née Edith Kermit Carow"
by Philip de Laszlo

"Portrait of Theodore Roosevelt" by
Philip de Laszlo

At a garden party at Windsor, Philip de Laszlo had met Mr. Arthur Lee, Viscount of Fareham, who was a good friend of the American president, Theodore Roosevelt. Lee was an art connoisseur and appreciated de Laszlo's talent so much that he asked him to go to Washington D.C. to paint a portrait of Roosevelt. After a rough ocean voyage, the de Laszlos were ushered into the Blue Room at the White House and enjoyed meeting the President and his wife over luncheon.

De Laszlo wrote: "The President gave me the first sitting on the following afternoon, when I decided to make sketches to catch a characteristic attitude. When I asked him how he would like to be painted he said he would prefer to wear riding clothes, since he spent all day in his rock coat, and Sargent had painted an official portrait of him thus. This official picture, hanging on the staircase of the White house, depicts Roosevelt in front of a balustrade with his right hand holding its ornamental ball, as though it were the globe.

'I do not wish to be painted again as if grasping the world,' said Roosevelt, 'I like myself on horseback, free from any tether, and cutting through the air.' And I painted him so. He gave me as many sittings as I required to enable me to finish the portrait entirely from life. I appreciated this very much, the more so because I saw that every moment of his day was occupied by his official duties. The longer I was in his company, the more I learned to like and to admire him.

He gave me ten sittings in all, each lasting about an hour and a half, and I also received permission to make a sketch of Mrs. Roosevelt. 'But if you paint my wife,' said the President before I began, 'it must be a good portrait and must bring out her charm, because I am in love with her.'"

Roosevelt reported back enthusiastically to his English friend Arthur Lee. "I took a great fancy to Laszlo himself," he wrote, "and it is the only picture which I really enjoyed having painted." Laszlo encouraged the President to invite guests to the sittings to keep Roosevelt entertained. "And if there weren't any visitors," said Roosevelt, "I would get Mrs. Laszlo, who is a trump, to play the violin on the other side of the screen."

De Laszlo wrote: "Before I left the White House the President wrote the following inscription in my sitters' signature book: 'With the hearty thanks and good will of Theodore Roosevelt, the White House, March 22nd, 1908. Much though I like your picture of me, for it is a picture as well as a portrait, I like even better your sketch of Mrs. Roosevelt.' We left Washington with many happy memories."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter and from The National Portrait Gallery website: https://npg.si.edu/exh/roosevelt/lamb.htm )

Philip de Laszlo: King Edward VII's Portrait

"King Edward VII of Great Britain"
by Philip de Laszlo

Philip de Laszlo wrote, "While I was painting Princess Victoria I had received a command to paint a head-and-shoulders of the King in civilian clothes. This gave me great delight, for I felt immensely attracted to His Majesty's personality.

A more comfortable chair was brought in for him and close to it was placed a small table on which was a box of cigars with matches and a bell. He had promised me only three short sittings. Each lasted about an hour and the entire portrait was finished in not more than five hours.

I painted the King in his ordinary redingote*, which was the fashion at the time. He also had on one of those large neckties which were usually worn with the redingote and held together with a pin. When His Majesty noticed that I was painting it, he said, 'I see, Laszlo, you are painting my tie. Please notice that it is not a ready-made tie. I arrange it myself, so see that you make that plain in the picture, for no gentleman wears a ready-made tie.' Later, when he saw that I was painting the coat, he said, 'I see that you are going to paint my button. Come nearer, and you will perceive that it is not an ordinary button, but has a very fine ivory inlaid line.'

During the second sitting His Majesty's private secretary, Lord Knollys, came into the room with some official documents in his hand. Before he began to read them, he looked at the King, then at me in such a way that left me in no doubt that he wished me to retire. I went on painting, however, and the King continued to smoke his cigar, smiling at me. 'Laszlo,' he said, 'Lord Knollys will read to me, and you won't have ears, you understand?' 'Yes, sir,' I replied.

Lord Knollys began to read the list of forthcoming birthday honours. Among them he mentioned the names of Hubert Herkomer and Sargent as proposed for Knighthood. It was certainly a curious coincidence that I should be present, for I admired the work of both artists, particularly Sargent's. 'Yes, but about Sargent,' said His Majesty when Lord Knollys had finished. 'Is he a British Sargent?' 'I am afraid not, sir,' replied Lord Knollys. 'I am very sorry to hear that,' said the King. 'There is no one on whom I would more willingly have conferred that honour. Sargent is a great artist whose work will live.'

Even de Laszlo, accustomed as he was to paint at great speed, could hardly do full justice to King Edward in three sittings. Although the portrait cannot rank as one of his best works, it is at least simple and unambitious, and a remarkable example of what he could accomplish in three sittings. The interest of the picture is confined to what he was able to see and to record in the face alone. His Majesty expressed himself pleased with it, and it now hangs in Marlborough House."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

*red·​in·​gote: A fitted outer garment, such as a double-breasted coat with wide flat cuffs and collar worn by men in the 18th century.

Philip de Laszlo: Princess Victoria & Count Mensdorff

"Princess Victoria, Daughter of Edward VII"

"Count Albert von Mensdorff"

"Having received an unexpected message from the royal household to paint Princess Victoria in a few hours time, Philip de Laszlo bought the needed supplies and had them sent to Buckingham Palace. The queen had also expressed her desire that he should paint the Princess on the same kind of board on which he had done another sketch. He lamented, 'I knew that I could not obtain such boards in London, but remembered that I had brought some of my unmounted drawings packed between two of these boards, never thinking that it might be necessary to use them. 

By the time I arrived at half-past two I was ushered straight to Princess Victoria, who took me to her own sitting-room, looking out on to the courtyard. She was exceedingly charming and helpful, and by three o'clock I had started the sketch. I had hardly been at work for an hour when the King suddenly appeared at the door of the study with a pen in his hand and his spectacles on his nose. 

He smiled and then glanced at my easel. 'Hullo, what is this?' he exclaimed. 'There is already a portrait on this board! It looks like Albert Mensdorff!' I was horrified. Apologizing to the Princess, I looked at the back of the board on which I was painting. To my astonishment I saw that the King was right. It was a sketch I had made of Count Mensdorff. 

What had happened was that when I rushed up to my room in the hotel, I had not looked at both sides of the board, but just made sure that one side was clean and in good condition. Even when I had placed it on my easel, I had not noticed that there was anything on the other side.When I explained how this had come about the King and the Princess laughed.

'Well, this will be a very interesting incident,' declared His Majesty. 'When I am gone, my life will be written, and my biographer will say that the Princess Royal fell in love with the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador. They wanted to marry, but King Edward disapproved, but at least they had the gratification of being painted on the same board!'

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

Philip de Laszlo: Triumph in London

"Joseph Joachim" by Philip de Laszlo

Philip de Laszlo had arranged for his first one-man exhibition in England to be held at the Fine Art Society in London. Fifty pictures were shown, gathered with considerable difficulty from various parts of Europe, and due to limited gallery space, the hanging was no easy matter. Count Montesquiou, on hearing that his portrait had been given a bad position, telegraphed from Paris to say that he regarded this treatment as an insult and demanded the return of the picture unless it were given a better place!

De Laszlo's friend Count Mensdorff, the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador in London, gave him much help, particularly on the social side. He was extremely popular in London society, and the fact that he agreed to open the exhibition brought the fashionable world to see de Laszlo's portraits. 

One of the results of the exhibit was his long desired royal commission. Philip de Laszlo wrote: "'On 7 June King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra honoured me by their presence, accompanied by Princess Victoria and several members of the Court. They were received by Count Mensdorff, who presented me to Their Majesties.

The exhibition was crowded all the morning with visitors and I had my first experience of the King's and Queen's exceptional charm. While I was showing Their Majesties round, the press of people was so great that the King turned to me and said in his jovial way: 'Well, Laszlo, you can be content with your success. The King of England has no room to move in your exhibition!' It was half-past twelve when Their Majesties left. 

Having been there since early morning I was so exhausted when my Royal guests departed that I left the gallery and took a hansom to the Hotel Metropole, where I was staying. I was tired out and longing for my luncheon. Scarcely had I sat down and begun to enjoy my soup, when the waiter brought to my table a messenger from Buckingham Palace. He handed me a letter commanding me to be at Buckingham Palace at three o'clock to begin immediately a portrait of Princess Victoria.

This command came upon me like a meteor, straight from Heaven. I had come from Vienna only to arrange and open the exhibition, without any expectation of receiving so important a commission. I had not even got my painting materials. I immediately left my luncheon and wrote my reply saying that I would be at the Palace by half-past two to enable me to arrange the room in which the sitting was to take place. I drove to Roberson's colour shop in Piccadilly, where I bought what I needed, chose an easel, and asked that everything should be sent immediately to Buckingham Palace.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Settling in England

"Vamanrao Shankar Pandit
as an Indian Prince" by Philip de Laszlo

"Philip de Laszlo was now making over 2000 pounds a year in Austria alone. In 1905 the Vienna income tax authorities paid him the compliment of telling him that he was one of the most famous portrait painters in the world, and it was well known that he received anything between 150 to 400 pounds for a picture. But besides money he desired recognition, particularly recognition from Hungary, Germany and France. 

In Hungary he had friends with good connections in high places, including the daughter of General Gorgey, who had been working for his ennoblement since 1903. A German friend watched his interests in Berlin and made more than one attempt to remind the Emperor of his services to art; while in France Countess Jean de Castellane performed similar good offices, with the result that in 1905 he was created a Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

However, he had begun to feel that he needed more scope for his art - and more competition. England offered him antagonists worthy of his brush, and a field which, for him, was scarcely touched. There he could engage in friendly competition with the great Sargent, whose fame was then at its height in England as well as in the United States. He believed also that England possessed, as no other country in Europe, a magnificent tradition of portrait painting handed down in continuous succession of artists, both native and foreign, from the time of Holbein, and carried on by Zucchero, Van Dyck, Lely, Kneller, Angelica Kauffman, the school of Reynolds, Raeburn, Gainsborough and Romney, and by a long line of painters to the present day.

'All this,' he wrote, 'led me to feel that here indeed I could make my life, in this home of the art to which I was devoted, and that I might perhaps aspire to become a link, however humble,in the great chain of foreign artists who had been received and treated by England as her own sons.'

So he and his wife decided to settle in England. Mrs. de Laszlo would be among her own people, and they had the education of their children to think of."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.) 

Philip de Laszlo: Painting the Pope, Pt. 2

"Portrait of Pope Leo XIII" in its Renaissance frame

Philip de Laszlo wrote: "Next morning, with beating heart but firm resolution, I stood in front of a new canvas waiting for the Pope, who entered punctually at ten o'clock and with a gracious and encouraging smile took his seat in the right attitude. I moved my canvas slightly to the left, and by doing so saw my sitter's features less in profile. With all my power of concentration I began to paint at once. An intense calm reigned throughout the sitting. It was as though both the sitter and the onlookers themselves felt how important stillness was for me when starting the new portrait.

On retiring, the Pope came to look at the picture, and said with a smile, 'Bene, bene,' and then left the room. My joy was great when I heard him utter those encouraging words, and I felt that I had made a successful beginning.

Next day I had my fourth sitting with the Pope. It went off very well. I finished the head. During the next few days, I was allowed to paint alone in the Vatican. One of the members of the Pope's household, who was about the same physical build sat for the painting of the robes and accessories.

During the fifth sitting I drew in more precisely the movement of the figure and the folds of the drapery. Although I had a perfect substitute to sit for the drapery, it is impossible to get on another body the characteristic movements of the sitter himself. That morning, therefore, I concentrated on this part of the picture. His Holiness, understanding what I was working on, kept wonderfully still.

I had two more sittings with His Holiness. On the last occasion I finished his beautiful, transparent, expressive hands. When the Pope's portrait was finished, he wished to see it in its frame, which had been specially made for it in the Renaissance style. I was allowed to take it direct to His Holiness. After he had inspected it, he expressed his satisfaction most warmly. As he gave me his parting blessing I feared that I should never have the privilege of being in his presence again. He died three years later and the memories of those hours in which I painted his portrait are very precious to me."

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: Painting the Pope, Pt. 1

"Pope Leo XIII, ne Vincent Joachim Pecci"
by Philip de Laszlo

Early in 1900 the Hungarian Government commissioned Philip de Laszlo to paint the portrait of Pope Leo XIII, on the occasion of His Holiness's Silver Jubilee, for the Fine Arts Museum of Budapest. De Laszlo set out for Rome early in March and was presented to Cardinal Mariano Rampolla, the Papal Secretary of State. De Laszlo wrote: 'At once he began to discuss the portrait which I was to paint. He warned me not to tire His Holiness too much and told me that I must try to finish the picture in seven or eight sittings. 

The Pope entered for his first sitting, a bent, ascetic figure clad in a heavy ivory silk cassock, white shoes, a white cappelletto, and the crimson silk cloak which had come down from the Roman Emperors, with a simple cross suspended from a chain. I saw him first against a dark background but the effect was too obvious, and I decided to keep the picture white against a grey background, the only colour being the golden tassel, the crimson cloak and the dark red chair. The effect was one of dignity and calm, dominated by his restless, dark, penetrating eyes.

The second morning the Pope instinctively assumed the right pose. I had outlined the whole figure on the previous day, and knowing how valuable time was, I now concentrated entirely on the head. So intense was my concentration that I did not notice the passing of time, and after an hour and a half the Majordomo came forward and bowed, thus marking the end of the sitting.

This time, before retiring, the Pope suddenly stopped and said, 'May I look at the canvas?' He stood for a few moments almost motionless before the painting. Then he turned to me. 'You think, my dear son, that that is me?' he asked. I was completely taken aback. 'I hope so, Holy Father,' I managed to say. Pointing at the picture with his beautiful, thin, sinewed hand, his whole frame trembling with indignation, he said in a quavering voice, 'But, my dear son, that resembles Voltaire, and I detest that creature!'

Thus in the space of a few moments, I saw two very different aspects of Leo XIII. It was like a tempest after mild spring sunshine. He must have seen how deeply his remarks had perturbed me. With extraordinary rapidity his expression changed to tranquillity again. 'Can you change the position of the head, a little more towards the front?'

'That is very difficult, Holy Father, but with your gracious permission, I will begin another canvas,' I answered. This was a risky reply for me to make since I knew how precious the hours were. Never for a moment did I forget what this picture meant to my career. But at once he said in a kindly tone, 'Begin another canvas. Tomorrow at ten o'clock.' 

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)

Philip de Laszlo: House/Studio in Budapest

Philip de Laszlo's home/studio in Budapest

Lucy and Philip de Laszlo in his studio

Several years before his engagement and marriage to Lucy Guinness, Philip de Laszlo had decided to have a house with three studios built in Budapest. His idea had been to rent out two of the three studios and the ground-floor flat and to retain the rest of the building for himself. He also proposed to build a small house in the grounds for his mother. His father was living with one of his sisters and her husband. The rent he would receive would help him pay off the loan for the build.

Those plans changed when he married. After their interrupted honeymoon and temporary stay in Switzerland as he painted a portrait, de Laszlo took Lucy to the completed house in Budapest. It was an imposing stone building with two turrets out in front, in the manner of sixteenth-century powder closets. It was well situated in Palma-utca, some distance from the center of Pest, facing the Park Club, one of the fashionable resorts of Budapest society. As planned the house contained three studios. The one on the upper floor de Laszlo let to another painter, and he used the two studios on the floor below. He and Lucy lived on the ground floor, while his mother lived with Marczi his brother in the little house built specifically for her in the garden.

One of the first visits he and Lucy paid in Budapest was to the widow of Ritter von Wechselmann, who had bought his painting of the 'Hofbrauhaus.' 'It was a strange experience for us,' he wrote in his journal, 'to see the picture again together, now that we were married. Although Lucy had posed for the figure of the Englishwoman, she had not seen the canvas since it was completed. It had, and always will have, deep significance for us. It was the first testimony of my love for her, and recalled the happy hours I had spent before her half-finished portrait. What youthful dreams of a great future I had dreamed as I painted that canvas!  But spring grows into summer and many of my dreams had been achieved. We should have liked to have had the picture for our own, but unfortunately our offer to buy it back was declined.'"

To be continued

(Excerpts from "Portrait of a Painter" by Owen Rutter.)