Frank Reynolds, R.I. | Page 6

those who have never crossed the
Channel, which is the hallmark of truth.
[Illustration]
In some cases these Paris drawings, many of which are reproduced in
the present volume, are literal portraits from life. But for the most part
they are the result of that close and absorbent observation which has
been mentioned as characteristic of the artist's method. The "Pictures
of Paris" were no hurried impressions received during a flying visit,
but the outcome of a long stay in the French capital, which gave
opportunities for a close study of manners, and a sympathetic insight
into men. Accompanied by two brother artists, Reynolds, commissioned
by his editor to depict Paris, betook himself thither, and established
himself for a considerable period in a studio, whence he could watch
and record. Under the guidance of Mr. John N. Raphael, well known
amongst Paris correspondents, who contributed the clever literary
sketches which the drawings by Reynolds nominally illustrated,
explorations were made not only to those familiar haunts of which the
names are known to the veriest tripper, but into the heart of that Paris
which is terra incognitato the casual stranger.
[Illustration: FRIVOLITY. Time Sketch: London Sketch Club.]
Thus we have in these drawings a true Paris and the true Parisian--not
the traditional caricature which, though founded possibly on
fundamental facts, has been so elaborated as to bear no more
resemblance to the real thing than the libellous figure with lantern jaws,
protruding front teeth, and side whiskers, generally beloved of the
French artist, bears to the typical Englishman. Take, for example, the
drawing of French workpeople at dinner (page 8), made from a sketch
in a Belleville café. There is no exaggeration here, but a literal
transcript from life, which reveals, as it were, in one flash, a whole
epitome of town life in working France.
[Illustration]
Consider again his drawings of Parisian types. No portrait could more

nicely hit off the characteristic slouch of the piou-piou(as Tommy
Atkins is called in France), nor catch with more delicate charm the
personality of the French grisette of a certain type, than the pencil
drawing "Vive l'Armée" (page 49). Not less clever are the pen-and-ink
sketches of familiar types which surround the larger figures on this
last-named page--like them, the result of humorous observation of
many individuals. Reynolds tells quaint stories of his adventures with
the sketch-book in the pages of which are to be found the hurried
notes--often but a few strokes and scratches intended to serve as a
mnemonic--upon which his finished drawings and sketches were based.
Frequently he would stalk an imposing Sergent de Ville, or Cuirassier
with resplendent helmet and flowing horse-hair plume, for miles along
the boulevards, making furtive notes, when opportunities presented
themselves and conditions were favourable, of the details of epaulettes,
buttons, cuffs, and all the other paraphernalia. In the same way his
many sketches of the Paris cocher necessitated frequent drives in an
open carriage, during which careful studies could be made of the
ample back of the typical French cabman, and of the flowing folds of
his usually voluminous neck.
[Illustration: HAVING THE TIME OF HER LIFE. Sketched in a Paris
Café]
Allusion has already been made to the progressive method by which
Frank Reynolds evolves a finished drawing, step by step, from an initial
idea roughly jotted down with a few strokes of the pencil. His
draughtsmanship depends, as must of course all draughtsmanship, very
largely upon memory. But it is his practice, whenever possible, to
obtain notes on the spot for later use. This was especially the case with
his work in Paris, where a pocket sketch-book was his inseparable
companion. A few pages of the latter are reproduced here, illustrating
the artist's quick perception and the instant sureness with which,
notwithstanding the leisurely pace of his work under normal conditions,
he conveys the spirit of his subject by means of a few lines. An excellent
example of this faculty is the sketch of the fat priest (page 53) and his
hirsute companion, admirable in the spontaneity of expression with
which the fleeting impression of a moment has been set down on paper.

Equally vivid is the impression conveyed by the hurried sketch of an old
woman (page 22) made at the stage door of a theatre. The boulevards
of Paris are excellent places from which to study the comedy of life:
and as an example of the peculiar flavour of Frank Reynolds' humour,
it would be hardly possible to better the irresistible sketch from life,
furtively made whilst sitting amongst the audience at a café chantant,
which, with a nice sense of the absurd, is labelled in the sketch-book
"Having the Time of her Life."
[Illustration]
Montmartre, as might be expected, yielded excellent "copy," to employ
a journalistic phrase. In the cafés and