Asquith, 1904
Rufus Isaacs, 1904
I was never pleased with the result of the drawing, and to my horror in the end the printing was extremely unsatisfactory, and in spite of the complimentary press notices that appeared I have always believed that the sketch of the Princess was a failure. I felt the disappointment the more, as there had been so much willingness and kindness to help me make a successful drawing, and also I always feared the Duchess shared my disappointment. She came in one afternoon just towards the end of the sitting and looked for a long time at the sketch, and then in her kindest voice said, "If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Ward, the drawing is not pretty enough for the Princess. It may be, perhaps, that I, like most mothers, have an exaggerated idea of the good looks of my children, but I admire my daughter very much, and I do not think at present the drawing does her justice."
I was entirely of her opinion, and the strong points of the picture should have been the colouring and the charm of expression.
When Prince Charles of Denmark (the present King of Norway) and his elder brother first made their appearance before the British public, a similar reception to that with which this chapter opens was given at The Daily Telegraph office by Lord Burnham. I, having that morning received a sitting from Prince Charles at Marlborough House, had the honour of meeting him again in the evening, when he presented me to his brother, the present King of Denmark. I had already met their father, who was Crown Prince of Denmark at the time. He, like all the Danish royal family, had the great charm of simplicity, and talked with very great pride and affection of his family, and he told me of all that he had seen in England, Dr. Barnardo's home for boys had made the greatest impression upon him.
On one occasion, when I was at work upon Prince Charles's portrait at Marlborough House, we saw a dirigible balloon sailing by outside that roused some discussion as to their possible utility in the future.
I remember his then saying with a laugh, that before long such things would be no novelty, and that many of us would be flying about in the air in the near future.
His words often recurred to me during the time I was making the Vanity Fair cartoon of that enthusiastic airman, Mr. Hedges Butler, who stood for me in the car of his balloon, which was suspended from the ceiling in my lofty studio, and remained in it all the time I painted him.