I HAVE ALWAYS looked with envy at the splendid collection
of Max originals which grace one of the walls in 99 Gower Street, and the sad news of their author's death last week sent me to them again with an even more affectionate eye. They are the fruits of the bright idea someone had in 1931, when Max was commis- sioned by the Spectator to do a series of caricatures of people in the news. H. G. Wells is pudgily slumped in an armchair, unabashed by the harsh glare of a lamp suspended above his head. Siegfried Sassoon is a willowy figure, swaying against a background of cool slopes. J. L. Garvin strides forward between sentences, cigar in mouth, hand out- stretched, peering through thick glasses. Oswald Mosley ea self-made man,' according to Max's description) rears in aggressive pose his small, sharp head contrasted brutally with massive legs. John Masefield, mildly pink and with enormous, hooded eyes, looks out benignly into the middle of the room. These are the most striking of the caricatures. But all are composed with that deceptive ease and fluency which characterised Max's work. The Spectator, in 1931, had them reproduced in colour and gave them away week by week with the paper.
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