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.)