Drawn by W. A. Breakspear.
Naturally, there are some stock anecdotes told of fellow-members, which never cease to create a laugh. One hears of the sculptor who, having been too deep in his potations, made his way home late at night with a large codfish under one arm and a lobster under the other, and who found them lying in bed beside him when he awoke in the morning.
J. A. FITZGERALD.
Drawn by Robert Sauber.
Another artist, presumably in a similar condition of benignity, arriving home very late, softly unlocks the street door, goes up stairs, very softly enters his bedroom, and undresses—very softly, so as not to disturb his wife, and finally creeps into bed—likewise very softly and gently; to be startled by his better half asking him—very softly and gently, no doubt—if he is aware that he has got into bed with his top-hat on!
One member always raises a hearty laugh by his imitation of a brother member—a man of the greatest good humour, but of third-rate ability—who, debating with another artist on the great Whistler question, thus sums the matter up: "If Whistler is right, then you, and me, and Michael Angelo are all wrong."
Sometimes in this way one may pick up some interesting anecdotes of the men of a past generation. Holland, the famous landscape painter, who was once a member, used to have many anecdotes about Turner. On one occasion he was sitting near to him at dinner, when a lady observed to him that she admired his pictures very much, although she could not say that she understood them. "Don't you wish you had the brains to do so?" replied Turner—a little rudely, it must be confessed.
THE LIFE CLASS.