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DRAWN AT A VENTURE
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DRAWN AT
A VENTURE

A COLLECTION OF DRAWINGS
BY
FOUGASSE



WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY
A. A. MILNE




METHUEN & CO. LTD.
36 ESSEX STREET W.C.
LONDON



INTRODUCTION

THERE are various methods of introducing an artist to his public. Oneof the best is to describe how you saved his life in the Bush in ’82; orhe saved yours; and then you go on: “Little did either of us anticipatein those far-off days that Fougasse was destined to become . . .” Another wayis to leave Fougasse out altogether, and concentrate, how happily, on your owntheories of black-and-white drawing, or politics, or the decline of the churches;after all, an introduction doesn’t last long, and he has the rest of the book tohimself. Perhaps, however, it is kinder to keep the last paragraph for him:“Take these little sketches by Fougasse, for instance . . .” and the reader, if hecares to any longer, can then turn over and take them. Left to ourselves, thatis the method we should adopt. But the publisher is at our elbow. “This isan introduction,” he says. “For Heaven’s sake introduce the fellow.”

Let us begin, then, by explaining Fougasse’s nationality. I never discusshis drawings with another, but we tell each other how remarkable it is that aFrenchman should have such an understanding of English sport. “Of course,”we say, “in the actual drawing the nationality reveals itself; the Gallic stylestands forth unmistakeably; only a Frenchman has just that line. But howamazingly British is the outlook! Was there ever a Frenchman before whounderstood and loved cricket as this one?” We ask ourselves how thephenomenon is to be explained. The explanation is simple. A fougasse—Iquote the dictionary—is a small mine from six to twelve feet underground chargedeither with powder or loaded shells; and if a British sapper subaltern, severelywounded at Gallipoli, beguiles the weary years of hospital by drawing little picturesand sending them up to Punch, he may as well call himself Fougasse as anythingelse. Particularly if his real name is Bird, and if a Bird, whose real nameis Yeats, is already drawing for Punch. Of course it would have been simplerif they had all stuck to their own names like gentlemen, but it is too late now todo anything about it, and when a genuine M. Fougasse of Paris comes along, hewill have to call himself Tomkins. Once the downward path of deceit is trodden,there is seemingly no end to it.

We have our artist, then, Kenneth Bird of Morar, Inverness. WhenI first met him at the beginning of 1919, he was just out of hospital, swingingslowly along with the aid of a pair of rocking-horse crutches. This was on hisannual journey south, for they have the trains in Morar now. Once a yearFougasse makes the great expedition to London, to see what the latest fashionsmay be, and is often back in Morar again before they have changed to somethinglater. I have seen him each year; in 1920 with two ordinary crutches; in 1921with two sticks; in 1922 with one stick; perhaps by 1923 he will be pl

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