When I made my drawing of Sir Edgar Boehm, the famous sculptor, I depicted him working in a characteristic att.i.tude upon his bust of Ruskin, which was in the rough clay and half finished. He was engaged also at the time upon a bust of Queen Victoria, to whom he was "Sculptor in Ordinary." Imagine my surprise when I received the following letter from Sir Edgar:--

"Feb. 2nd, 1881.

"DEAR MR. WARD,

"... Did you hear that the Queen when she saw your excellent portrait of me was under the impression that Ruskin's bust was meant for one of herself! till some time after the mistake was pointed out to H.M. I have heard it now from three different people who know, else I should not have believed that we could be for one instant suspected of being disloyal....

"Yours sincerely, "J. E. Boehm."

Very shortly after the deaths of Boehm, Millais, and Leighton (who died within a very short time of one another) it interested me to visit their tombs in St. Paul's, and I was almost staggered when I beheld on Sir Edgar Boehm's tomb a crude reproduction in bra.s.s of my _Vanity Fair_ cartoon! Some time after I met Linley Sambourne (who was a particular friend of his), and when I asked him if he knew who was the designer, he replied, "His son--I thought you were aware of that.

Have you never heard that Sir Edgar said that he should never give any friend his photograph in future, but always send the Vanity Fair representation of himself instead."

The sketch of George du Maurier I made for him while he was busily engaged at his drawing-table ill.u.s.trating _Trilby_.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SIR EDGAR BOEHM, BART., R.A. 1881.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: _From the bra.s.s on Sir Edgar Boehm's tomb in St. Paul's Cathedral. The idea evidently was suggested, though without my knowledge, by the cartoon here reproduced._]

I also made a caricature of his son, Gerald du Maurier, for _Vanity Fair_, who told me that Dana Gibson in his early days had such a great admiration for his father's work that he had founded his own largely from its study. When the two artists met many years after in London, du Maurier, who was not only a great artist but a man of singularly sweet and generous disposition, paid Dana Gibson the compliment of telling him that if, as a student, he had used him as a guide the follower had certainly outstripped the leader. The story reflects the modesty and generosity of George du Maurier, but, of course, it does not follow that this view is taken by the public.

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 sc.r.a.p 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 1909. SIR HENRY LUCY.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: W. E. HENLEY. 1892.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: 1881. W. S. GILBERT.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: RUDYARD KIPLING. 1894.]

The Sir Peter Teazle of old William Farren will always last in my memory, and I recollect it from my youth.

Of course I used to enjoy, of all things, the old Prince of Wales's Theatre under the management of Bancroft and Mrs. Bancroft, whose truly great acting, especially in the Robertson plays, was indeed a delight. Earlier than that, too, I remember how deeply I was impressed with the acting of the elder Boucicault and his wife in those vivid dramatic representations of Irish life, _The Colleen Bawn_ and _The Shaughran_. In private life the feelings of this old and distinguished actor on the subject of Home Rule were identical with that of Redmond at the present time, and he did not hesitate to express them.

Sir Charles Wyndham, our veteran actor, of whom we are most justly proud, seems to have one leg in the past and the other in the present, so unconscious of the pa.s.sing years and full of life and power does he still seem on those occasions on which the public have the opportunity of watching this favourite of several generations of playgoers. The peculiarly low-pitch of the voice with its pleasing upward gradation, the finished manner, the sympathetic attraction, all these qualities have ever belonged to Wyndham. Of course, I saw him many times in David Garrick, the play through which he is best known, but there are many parts in modern comedy wherein he stands alone, for instance, in _Mrs. Dane's Defence_, the play in which Miss Lena Ashwell won her first laurels.

I consider myself particularly fortunate in being able to count Mr.

Leo Trevor among my friends. I caricatured him for _Vanity Fair_ in a straw hat and the Zingari colours. He is the cheeriest of good fellows--his bright and happy smile is particularly characteristic of the nature of the man, who, in spite of the fact that he is so much sought after, always remains unspoilt. The public probably knows him best through his most popular play, _The Flag Lieutenant_, which, coming as it did just after the Boer War, appealed to the sympathy and patriotism of all. The author was particularly fortunate in being able to portray his creation of the Major through the genius of Mr. Cyril Maude. Under the mirth and mirth-provoking art of this gifted actor there always runs that magic touch which has been defined as "serious without being earnest!" In character parts, especially those a.s.sociated with the typical old gentleman, he is of course, incomparable, but whether he is cast for an old or a young or a middle-aged part he can always draw the smiles and the tears of his audience. Of course, when sketching him I was most anxious to catch his characteristic expression which can only be caught through his smile.

When Mr. William Gillette sat for me in dressing-gown and pipe, I did not have to request him to smile, for a serious and contemplative gaze was quite in keeping with his _rle_ of Sherlock Holmes. During our conversation he asked me if I could recommend a good tobacco, because the brand he smoked on the stage burnt his tongue. I suggested "Log Cabin," and at our next meeting asked if he had acted on my recommendation, and if he found the result satisfactory; but "Log Cabin," in spite of its merits and mildness, was not suitable for dramatic service as it took too long to light.

Like another successful actor of modern times, Arthur Bourchier began acting when at Oxford. After he left the University he used to play as a member of the company known as the "Old Stagers" at Canterbury during the cricket week. When he talked of taking his hobby seriously and becoming a professional actor he was considerably chaffed by his friends; but he got the best of the laugh, as from his first appearance on the legitimate stage he did well, and was not long in proving himself one of the most powerful actors of the day.

My old friend, Allan Aynesworth, was another amateur who went on the stage with full confidence, although he had less experience than Arthur Bourchier. However, he made a great success, and won for himself a foremost place in the esteem of the public. He is a beau ideal of "an officer and a gentleman" with a touch of the hero thrown in. I understand that besides being a popular actor he is an excellent producer of plays.

When I started to sketch Charlie Hawtrey he looked almost glum, and the only thing to help me out in conveying a humorous impression seemed to be his characteristic habit of stroking his head with his hand. I asked him to think of something funny, and the result seemed to work so well that I begged him to share the joke, but he left it secret under the pretext that it was too silly to tell.

With the Grossmiths talent seems hereditary; the younger George Grossmith, son of the original G. G., is already a fountain of fun for modern playgoers, and my old friend, Weedon Grossmith, is an actor who, whenever he has had a part to suit him, has proved himself to be an inimitable and a thorough artist which, by the way, he is in more senses than one. One of his best parts is the _Duke of Killiecrankie_, in which his witty and delightful personality gets full play.

H. B. Irving, through his very strong resemblance to his distinguished father, seems almost to be a link with the past. He has inherited Sir Henry's charm of manner and the sunny sudden smile which one remembers so well, also his immense power of concentration. He is a keen student of facial expression, and like the late W. S. Gilbert seeks his types in the criminal law courts. One whom experience has convinced of the truth of the phrase, "New times, new manners," may be permitted to make the comment, "New times, new plays." Outside the shadow of his great father's great, but somewhat gruesome plays, it is difficult to say what his son may not accomplish.

Writing of H. B. Irving reminds one that W. L. Courtney was a don at Oxford when H. B. was an undergraduate there, and that the distinguished writer and critic had a great opinion of the young actor's talent. Courtney has a particularly dry sense of humour, and he is so engrossing in conversation that when he does go to the Garrick or Beefsteak Clubs late at night, few other members who happen to be there will leave before him.

Another excellent fellow, who for a time was an amusing and clever actor, is Willie Elliot. He has a natural gift for story-telling and his Scotch stories are inimitable. As an actor, he was for some time quite a success, and created the part of "Deedes, the gifted author,"

in _A Pantomime Rehearsal_, afterwards played by "Charlie" Little, and he was also strikingly good in the _Little Minister_. The late C. P.

Little was a most delightful creature who is best described as Society's Impressario. When Little left the stage he started to chronicle the doings of Society, and was so much in it that he became a part of it. His entire attention was concentrated on the const.i.tution, influence, and the events of Society, and he knew every detail relating to its proceedings, manners, and whims. In his unique part he was a complete success, and always an acquisition.

FROM NURSERY RHYME SKETCHES, 1867.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_The father gone a-hunting._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "_The mother gone to buy a skin To wrap the Baby Bunting in._"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: RT. HON. "BOBBY" LOW _amused by seeing himself with others in the Ministry represented on the stage at the Court Theatre in a burlesque called the "Happy Land." I sat next him._]

[Ill.u.s.tration: MR JUSTICE A. T. LAWRENCE (_A study_).]

[Ill.u.s.tration: DANCKWERTS, K.C. (_Study_).]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LATE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE c.o.c.kBURN. (_Sketched in Court during Tichbourne Trial._)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A smile from Nature. (Study.)]

[Ill.u.s.tration: HENRY IRVING _as "Shylock._"]

Mr. Henry Arthur Jones usually rode to the theatre, and as I found him conducting a rehearsal of the _Bauble Shop_ in riding-kit I sketched him in it with a hunting-crop in one hand and a book of the play in the other, which reminds me of another subject who wished to be painted in "boots and breeches," and turned up at my studio in a pair of the latter that had evidently been worn in earlier days, for they appeared to irk him somewhat round the knees. After he had been standing for a considerable length of time, I asked him to rest, as I always prefer to give my sitters as little trouble and fatigue as possible. But he did not move, and finally when I asked him again he remarked rather ruefully:--

"Either I shall have to go on standing for ever or I shall fall over, for I'm paralysed by these breeches." So I had to treat him like a lay figure and liberate each limb and rub it until the circulation was restored.

Another sitter was an undergraduate in training for the 'Varsity boat-race. I have found men of this rowing calibre usually wonderful sitters, being perfectly fit; this particular young man was in excellent form, so much so that he completely outstood me and said when I, at last, begged him to have a rest:--

"Why I can go on standing all day without fatigue!"