Forty years of 'Spy'

by Sir Leslie Ward

Rudyard Kipling, being thoroughly accustomed to studios, was at once at home in mine, and was so engrossing in his conversation with Oliver Fry (the then editor of Vanity Fair) that it was all that I could do to stick to my sketch, and not give myself up entirely to listening to his interesting and amusing stories. I watched him, however, and took him in his most humorous mood.

In the case of the late Poet Laureate, Mr. Alfred Austin, I required but a tiny scrap of paper to take my notes. It was at his charming house, Swinford Old Manor, which is surrounded by the garden that he loved and in which we strolled. His dress was that of a country squire and not that of a long-haired poet. He stood but a few feet high.

William Black, the novelist (who was also small in stature), was very modest and cheerful. I represented him in waders with a large salmon rod, for being a Scot he was an expert with it. His deep-red complexion and dark eyes surrounded by thick-rimmed spectacles conduced to the making of an effective cartoon.

Mr. Thomas Hardy was not talkative as a sitter, but he was pleasant. In appearance he did not present the idea of the typical literary man: his clothes had a sporting touch about them.

I believe that one of my most popular character-portraits was that of W. E. Henley, the poet who looked more like an Australian bush-ranger than a follower of the winged Muse. He was brought to my studio by Mr. Charles Whibley, the well-known writer. In consequence of his lameness he sat, and he told capital stories of Whistler and other interesting characters.

Mr. Egerton Castle posed splendidly in his rich brown velvet fencing costume with foil in hand, and looked so self-confident and certain of victory that one might have thought that he was concocting a plot for a new story of romance.

I must not close this note on authors without a word of tribute to the old-fashioned charm and courtesy of Samuel Smiles, who presented me with a copy of his famous book, "Self-Help."

I find that my earliest recollections of the stage are also the keenest, and the acting I saw in my youth seems to have made the most lasting impression. The stage world was, of course, much more limited in its dimensions in those days, and the few representatives of genius were nearer and, perhaps in consequence, seemingly greater than in later years, when of all the ministers of delight it must be acknowledged that the actor gives most pleasure to the greatest number of people.

As a youth I was fond of attending first nights, and continued to be present at them whenever I had the chance, until by degrees I came to the conclusion that although a first night was amusing in many ways I preferred not to risk a failure, but to wait for the play that I knew was worth seeing.