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Updated: May 18, 2025
Towards six o'clock the company began to thin out somewhat, and within the hour I found myself once more alone with Mr. Rawlence. 'Well, and what do you think of these few representatives of Sydney's Bohemia? asked my host.
Rawlence and his friends advised one to study Shakespeare, or to attend the better sort of concerts, or to learn something of art and criticism. But talk that I heard in that studio did make me feel that it was eminently desirable I should inform myself more fully in these matters.
To a twentieth-century English artist, Mr. Rawlence might have seemed a shade crude, possibly rather pompous and affected, somewhat jejune and trite, perhaps. But our talk took place in the 'seventies of last century, in New South Wales.
You can do some wood-chopping after tea, if he should want you in your chopping time. Run along now, and go over in the punt with Tim when he goes to meet the gentleman. It would seem the good-will of the Great Powers had once more been invoked in connection with me; and I learned afterwards that Mr. Rawlence had not left the district, but had been staying in Werrina for a few days.
Of late years there has been the sale of the Quorn for, it was said, P3,000, and the late Lord Willoughby de Broke valued the North Warwickshire for the county to purchase at P2,500. In 1903 the Atherstone was valued by Mr. Rawlence, the well-known representative of Tattersall's, at P3,500, or something like P50 a hound, and that has been considered very cheap.
But, none the less, Sydney's actual changes were sufficiently remarkable. Rawlence, the artist, stood now an imposing red building of many storeys, given over, I gathered, to doctors and dentists. The artist, I thought, was probably gathered to his fathers ere this, as my old fellow-lodger, Mr. Smith, most certainly must have been. Mr.
Rawlence always received his friends at the Macquarie Street studio on Sundays, and none was more regular in attendance than myself. It would be very easy, of course, to be sarcastic at Mr.
Rawlence certainly does get all the most interesting people at his place. Landon, the painter, was deep in conversation with Mr. Freydon. No, I don't know what Mr. Freydon does some secretarial appointment, I fancy. He's evidently a great friend of Rawlence's. It is surprising that I can set these things down with no particular sense of shame.
Rawlence came to a standstill before me, this absurd reflection flitted through my mind: 'If he only knew it, there's me! But he will never know how could he? The absurd vanity and audacity of the thought made me blush like a bashful schoolgirl. The ridiculous pretentiousness of the thought that in me, the 'inmate' of St.
Under the brightly polished bell-pull was the name C. F. Rawlence, and the legend: 'Do not ring unless an answer is required. It was my first experience of such a notice, and I felt uncertain how it was intended to apply. Neither for the moment could I understand why in the world any sane person should ring a bell unless desirous of eliciting a response of some kind.
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