An Autobiography, vols 1,2 | Page 8

was too self-centred for this; a large side of art was
hidden from him; anything mysterious, suggestive, archaic, whether
Italian, Spanish or Dutch, frankly bored him. His feet were planted
firmly on a very healthy earth; he liked art to be a copy of nature, not of
art. The modern Burne-Jones and Morris school, with what he
considered its artificiality and affectations, he could not endure. He did
not realise that it originated in a reaction from early-Victorianism and
mid-Victorianism. He lost sight of much that is beautiful in colour and
fancy and all the drawing and refinement of this school, by his violent
prejudices. His opinions were obsessions. Where he was original was
not so much in his pictures but in the mezzotints, silver, china and
objets d'art which he had collected for many years.
"Whatever he chose, whether it was a little owl, a dog, a nigger, a bust,
a Cupid in gold, bronze, china or enamel, it had to have some human
meaning, some recognisable expression which made it lovable and
familiar to him. He did not care for the fantastic, the tortured or the
ecclesiastical; saints, virgins, draperies and crucifixes left him cold; but
an old English chest, a stout little chair or a healthy oriental bottle
would appeal to him at once.
"No one enjoyed his own possessions more naively and enthusiastically
than my father; he would often take a candle and walk round the
pictures in his dressing-gown on his way to bed, loitering over them
with tenderness--I might almost say emotion.
"When I was alone with him, tucked up reading on a sofa, he would

send me upstairs to look at the Sir Joshuas: Lady Gertrude Fitz-Patrick,
Lady Crosbie or Miss Ridge.
"'She is quite beautiful to-night,' he would say. 'Just run up to the
drawing-room, Margot, and have a look at her.'
"It was not only his collections that he was proud of, but he was proud
of his children; we could all do things better than any one else! Posie
could sing, Lucy could draw, Laura could play, I could ride, etc.; our
praises were stuffed down newcomers' throats till every one felt
uncomfortable. I have no want of love to add to my grief at his death,
but I much regret my impatience and lack of grace with him.
"He sometimes introduced me with emotional pride to the same man or
woman two or three times in one evening:
"'This is my little girl--very clever, etc., etc. Colonel Kingscote says she
goes harder across country than any one, etc., etc.'
"This exasperated me. Turning to my mother in the thick of the guests
that had gathered in our house one evening to hear a professional singer,
he said at the top of his voice while the lady was being conducted to the
piano:
"'Don't bother, my dear, I think every one would prefer to hear Posie
sing.'
"I well remember Laura and myself being admonished by him on our
returning from a party at the Cyril Flowers' in the year 1883, where we
had been considerably run by dear Papa and twice introduced to Lord
Granville. We showed such irritability going home in the brougham
that my father said:
"'It's no pleasure taking you girls out.'
"This was the only time I ever heard him cross with me.
"He always told us not to frown and to speak clearly, just as my mother

scolded us for not holding ourselves up. I can never remember seeing
him indifferent, slack or idle in his life. He was as violent when he was
dying as when he was living and quite without self-pity.
"He hated presents, but he liked praise and was easily flattered; he was
too busy even for MUCH of that, but he could stand more than most of
us. If it is a little simple, it is also rather generous to believe in the
nicest things people can say to you; and I think I would rather accept
too much than repudiate and refuse: it is warmer and more enriching.
"My father had not the smallest conceit or smugness, but he had a little
child-like vanity. You could not spoil him nor improve him; he
remained egotistical, sound, sunny and unreasonable; violently
impatient, not at all self-indulgent--despising the very idea of a valet or
a secretary--but absolutely self-willed; what he intended to do, say or
buy, he would do, say or buy AT ONCE.
"He was fond of a few people--Mark Napier, [Footnote: The Hon.
Mark Napier, of Ettrick.] Ribblesdale, Lord Haldane, Mr. Heseltine,
Lord Rosebery and Arthur Balfour--and felt friendly to everybody, but
he did not LOVE many people. When we were girls he told us we
ought to make worldly marriages, but in the end he let us choose the