tter should go to the little village in
Bedfordshire where Cressage had his principal studio, and that the
painting should be exhibited at the Royal Academy before being shown
anywhere else. (Cressage was an R.A., but no one thought of putting
R.A. after his name. He was so big, that instead of the Royal Academy
conferring distinction on him, he conferred distinction on the Royal
Academy.)

Sir Jee went to Bedfordshire and was rapidly painted, and he came back
gloomy. The presentation committee went to Bedfordshire later to
inspect the portrait, and they, too, came back gloomy.

Then the Academy Exhibition opened, and the portrait, showing Sir Jee
in his robe and chain and in a chair, was instantly hailed as possibly
the most glorious masterpiece of modern times. All the critics were of
one accord. The committee and Sir Jee were reassured, but only
partially, and Sir Jee rather less so than the committee. For there was
something in the enthusiastic criticism which gravely disturbed him. An
enlightened generation, thoroughly familiar with the dazzling yearly
succession of Cressage's portraits, need not be told what this
something was. One critic wrote that Cressage displayed even more than
his 'customary astounding insight into character....' Another critic
wrote that Cressage's observation was, as usual, 'calmly and coldly
hostile'. Another referred to the 'typical provincial mayor,
immortalized for the diversion of future ages.'

Inhabitants of the Five Towns went to London to see the work for which
they had subscribed, and they saw a mean, little, old man, with thin
lips and a straggling grey beard, and shifty eyes, and pushful snob
written all over him; ridiculous in his gewgaws of office. When you
looked at the picture close to, it was a meaningless mass of coloured
smudges, but when you stood fifteen feet away from it the portrait was
absolutely lifelike, amazing, miraculous. It was so wondrously lifelike
that some of the inhabitants of the Five Towns burst out laughing. Many
people felt sorry--not for Sir Jee--but for Lady Dain. Lady Dain was
beloved and genuinely respected. She was a simple, homely, sincere
woman, her one weakness being that she had never been able to see
through Sir Jee.

Of course, at the presentation ceremony the portrait had been
ecstatically referred to as a possession precious for ever, and the
recipient and his wife pretended to be overflowing with pure joy in the
ownership of it.