In March, 1885, she was sentenced to six months' imprisonment without hard labour, for a libel upon M. Rivière in certain reflections—made in her publication "Social Salvation"—upon his career before he came to England. In May of the same year coming from prison to the Court under a writ of habeas corpus, she was awarded, by a jury sitting at the Middlesex Sessions Court to assess damages, a verdict of £10,000 against the composer of Faust, for a series of libels upon her published in various French papers.
In all her actions Mrs. Weldon conducted her own case with a brilliance that was remarkable, as was her English, which was perfectly beautiful; but her reputation of fearlessness where the law was concerned made one very careful of repeating in her presence any casual remark that might lead to trouble. During the time she sat to me I remember one particular day especially, when she arrived in high dudgeon, complaining bitterly of a housekeeper in another studio into which she had by mistake been shown. This lady had been impolite, and had not treated her with the respect due to her position; and for this slight she was prepared to sign a "round robin" to get rid of the woman and persuade the other tenants to help her.
Not paying much attention to the story, although I regretted any trouble that had occurred, I did not realize the identity of the offending "woman," until, going into my mother's studio, she informed me that on no account did she want to see Mrs. Weldon, whose voice she had now identified. But, as Mrs. Weldon was leaving, my mother inadvertently ran into her and was recognized. Having determined to have a day en negligée, and to spend her time tearing up an accumulation of old letters, my mother had made arrangements not to be in to any models or visitors; her annoyance was considerable when Mrs. Weldon knocked at her door in mistake for mine, and without looking twice to distinguish her visitor, she had informed her that she did not require any models that day. After explanations and apologies had been exchanged on either side, peace was restored, as, incidentally, was my visitor's equanimity.
Mrs. Weldon was engaged at this period to sing at the London Pavilion at a very handsome salary. On one of these occasions, when I went to hear her, I amused myself during an interval with making a caricature of the conductor of the orchestra; when I had completed the drawing, I noticed that my temporary model had observed my procedure, and a moment later the attendant handed me a little piece of paper on which was drawn a caricature of myself! and a note requesting me to send my drawing for his inspection—which I did.
When Mrs. Weldon went to Brighton, she sent me a charming letter asking me to go down there, but at the moment I was a little disconcerted by the extreme publicity surrounding her movements, and did not take advantage of her kind invitation. I remember her saying to me, "They call me mad, and I suppose everybody is mad on some point. My mania is vanity—I love compliments—as long as you flatter me I shall be your best friend."
Miss Christabel Pankhurst, whom (as another lady looming largely in the eye of the public) I drew for Vanity Fair, made quite an attractive cartoon for that paper. She was a very good model, with most agreeable manners. I studied her first at the Queen's Hall, where her windmill-like gestures attracted my notice first. Her brilliant colouring and clear voice were also characteristic.
I did not discuss the subject in which she was so absorbed, but limited my conversations to generalities, lest by adverse criticism I might disturb the charm of expression I found in her face.
ADMIRAL SIR COMPTON DOMVILLE, 1906.
