The memorial exhibition was finally held at the Leger in 1935. Ruth insisted on asking very high prices and only a few paintings were sold although the show received a great deal of praise.
She was now established at the Eiffel. She haunted the Fitzroy and borrowed money from all Rowley's friends who were foolish enough to lend it. She who had asked impossible prices at the gallery now sold his pictures ridiculously cheap whenever she got the chance. She made it impossible to consolidate his reputation, the foundations of which he had so firmly laid.
I remember going to see her at the Eiffel to take her a bundle of lithographs Rowley had asked me to look after some months before he died. It was nearing lunchtime and she was still in bed. She raised herself and said 'Hello Cliff,' tossing her heavy tawny hair out of her eyes. I thought what a fine picture she made. Then I caught sight of a pair of men's trousers, braces hanging limply, that were lying crumpled on a chair near her bed. I stood the bundle of lithographs against the wall, made some excuse, and turning out of the room hurried down the stairs.
I see Ruth from time to time. I may come across her in the Kings Road, at the Six Bells or in some club or other. She never fails to mention Rowley. 'No one like him. Nothing has been the same since he died.' One night she told me a rather pathetic story about walking home with him one winter's night from Montparnasse to the rue Daguerre. Rowley said how cold it was, and she took his hand and as they walked held it under the fur collar of her coat. After a little while Rowley suddenly said, 'Of all the women I have ever known, you are the only one who has ever done even a little thing like that for me.'
1941. Ruth is now married. She married, I believe, before the present war commenced. Her husband is in the army: a lieutenant.
I met them in the Six Bells soon after he got his commission. Someone called him and he went to the far end of the bar. Ruth put her hand on my arm. She leered at me. 'Don't you think I have done well for myself, Cliff? I have British nationality now and if my old man gets killed, why, the God damn British government have to keep me for the rest of my life!'
I think Rowley would have liked that.
Postscript 1942
Ruth's husband has been cashiered.
Some Watercolours by Rowley Smart (1887-1934)
The ROWLEY SMART MEMOIR -11
'Wheatsheaf Hotel', 1932, by Rowley Smart. Now in the Manchester Art Gallery Collection. Before their sojourn in Sweden, Rowley and Ruth evidently spent some time in Onnelly, Staffordshire, staying at the Wheatsheaf Inn.
Rowley Smart Letter to Bob and Olive. Rowley used to illustrate his letters to friends with funny drawings and here is a particularly fine example. He writes to his friend and benefactor Dr Barbett Stross ( Bob) and Bob's wife Olive from the Wheatsheaf Inn in Staffordshire. He clearly likes it there and writes about sketching chickens and ducks and how amusing they are. He also sounds optimistic that his health is improving.
A couple of Rowley's handmade postcards
