Mayfair to Moscow; Clare Sheridan's Diary

3^5 11^/ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY DATE DUE \<^y Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028356008 MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW- CLARE SHERIDAN'S DIARY CLARE SHERIDAN MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW CLARE SHERIDAN'S DIARY 'h /^ BONI AND LIVE'RIGHT PUBLISHERS Sf NEW YORK Copyright, 1921, By BONI & LiVERIGHT iNa All rights reserved Third Printing, November, 1921 37% i'3 7 -^ ,,^1- Printed in the United States of America '•: ' . LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Clare Sheridan ........ Frontispiece Facing Page Bust of Krassin 26 View of Guest House 80 Bust of Zinoviev 93 Bust of Dsirjinsky 98 Bust of Lenin 114 Bust of Trotzky 152 Group on Aquitania 230 The illustrations of the busts have been made from the originals done by Clare Sheridan. MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW- CLARE SHERIDAN'S DIARY f MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW The publication of a diary not meant for publication seems to demand some introduction and explanation. I have always kept a diary, even in comparatively monotonous as in eventful days, but I am not a writer. It Is almost with a feeling of apology that I venture to swell the ranks of those who publish their little books after their little visits to Russia. In doing so I do not pre- tend to present a picture of Russia. I was only in Moscow where portrait work, not politics, was my concern. What I learnt about Bolshevism and the point of view of its leaders can come from illustrative remarks, often quite casually made, as for In- stance when I was solemnly asked one day what position Bernard Shaw would hold In the new Labor Cabinet, and they were surprised when I giggled. There are people in England who are indig- nant at my sculpting Lenin and Trotsky. There II 12 MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW were people in Moscow who were horrified because I had done Winston Churchill and ex- pressed a desire to do D'Annunzio, but as I am before all else a portraitist, it is the psychology of people that interests me, not their politics. I love humanity, with its force and its weakness, its ambitions and fears, its honesty and its lack of scruples, its perfection and deformities. If I found any of the Bolshevik leaders human, agreeable and even kindly, it is probably because they reacted as all human nature does, to the attitude of mind with which it is met. If I have any political views in my own country they are certainly not in harmony with the policy of Mr. Lloyd George. Nevertheless I have found myself next to him at dinner and enjoyed our discussions on abstract subjects, never touching politics. It may even be that the Prime Minister equally enjoyed these discussions which gave his mind a rest from the work he was intent upon. It seemed that certain of the Soviet rulers with whom I talked were just as happy (and more so), than Mr. Lloyd George, to find some one with whom it was not necessary to pur- sue the political problem. Especially was this the case with Trotsky whom I found very cul- tured and companionable, and with whom I hardly at all talked about Revolutions! Before I started for Russia my cousin Winston — CLARE SHERIDAN'S DIARY 13 Churchill came to lunch at my studio, and so also Mr. Ambrose McEvoy (the English portrait painter). A short while ago, just after I had landed in New York, I met McEvoy and he talked to me about that luncheon, and commented on my discretion in not disclosing my acquaint- ance with the Bolshevik emissaries in London, and never breathing a suggestion of my prospec- tive visit to . Russia ! On the same occasion we discussed Bolshevism pretty openly. I remember that Winston said Bolshevism was a crocodile, that either you must shoot it, or else make a detour round it so as not to rouse It! But I gathered that immediate attack was the policy he favored. But whatever his views were, I have always loved him as I would a brother, and I have admired him for his undoubted courage and purposefulness; and though I do not always agree with him, we find other subjects of deep Interest to us both, to talk about—and always he is interesting. At the time when I was doing his portrait bust, he said to me thoughtfully one day: *'Clarel You have the most enviable position In the world you are a woman, you are an artist, you are free and you have children." He has often said to me: "Do you realize how lucky you are?** I wonder if he Is right, that as a woman my talents are the more valuable to me. Certain It is that 14 MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW everything good and interesting and all the things worth while that have come to me have come through my work. I did not always work, and that is why parts of my diary need explanation, parts in which, owing to a mood or an incident, I have burst out im- patiently with criticism of my bringing-up. One does not readily tell of oneself, especially if one is not self-absorbed. But I have been asked to explain why I became a worker. Some day, when I am no longer physically strong enough to continue the life of a sculptor, I shall, in the evening of my days, write a book, and It will tell of things from the beginning, and be written with pure sincerity. It will relate and explain many things, and some people will not care to read it because it will not be all happiness and there are many who will not face reality. In the meantime I exert myself to make up for many years spent and wasted—wasted in that they were unproductive. Like many of my gen- eration I was brought up with the idea that for a girl it was only necessary to know French, take care of one's hands and do one's hair carefully in order to get married and live happily ever after., I did not marry immediately. Contrari- ness in childhood becomes rebelliousness in girl- hood, and the more I realized that marriage was expected of me the more resolutely I prepared CLARE SHERIDAN'S DIARY ij my mind for spinsterhood. I remember one summer evening walking home across a square; in a house in which all the curtains were drawn back and the windows opened wide, a ball was going on. One could not hear the music, and the figures revolving silently looked absurd. I seemed to see ourselves as the man in the street sees us. The impression was indelible. I was bored, too, by my absence of purpose and the unproductive- ness of my time. After that summer evening I spent a good many of my days in Italy. Sometimes in a re- mote fishing village where I grew to love the people, or in the wilds of Anacapri, beyond the tourist track, and also in Rome and in Florence where the beauty of things enveloped me,—^when it was not the little naked bathing figures it was the sculpture I loved; and when the guardian of the museum had turned his back, I would run my fingers over a marble torso, so that my finger tips tingled with emotion and my heart beat faster quite unexplainably. Sometimes, in contrast to my Italian days, li would spend a winter in Stockholm with the Crown Princess Margaret and the Crown Prince of Sweden. Princess Margaret, who was Eng- lish (a daughter of the Duke of Connaught), was extremely artistic and painted so well that the leading artists in Sweden declared that if she i6 MAYFAIR TO MOSCOW had not been born a Royalty she would have been a great painter. As it was her duties were too varied to permit of any serious study, but we used to spend whole weeks on painting expedi- tions and get very absorbed and enthusiastic. Some of the most interesting artists in Sweden who were her friends used to come and help us and criticize and advise. We worked very hard and made great progress. There was something in the snow scenes that suggested shapes and forms, and my joy in painting them was almost more the joy of form than of color. Form was a subconscious god in my heart. Then one day the inevitable happened; it was in England, and it was on the longest day of the year, a day which seemed that day all too short. I got engaged to be married. For four years after that I lived in the country, and during those years I forgot everything except the creation of forms that I was Intent upon. The two children which are the result—are my best bits of creative work, and work that will live. We had a Tudor farmhouse near Guildford in Surrey, and at a place near by called Compton, Mrs. Watts, the Widow of G. F. Watts* had a village pottery. It was quite an ambitious industry; they turned out lovely terra cotta garden pots of Italian design and there were local artists engaged on small alle- * The famous painter. CLARE SHERIDAN'S DIARY 17 gorical figures. Such an industry in Italy would have been productive of great talent, even of genius, and even in Surrey the effort was not un- fruitful I used to carry home loads of clay with me, and work out little things of my own.

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