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BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THESAGE ENDOWMENT FUND

THE GIFT OF

HENRY W. SAGE1891

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Cornell University LibraryND 497.W25A3Forty years of 'Spy,

3 1924 008 751 665

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The original of tiiis book is intine Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions inthe United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924008751665

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FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'

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From a /hoto^niph by I'andycA-. LESLIE WARD.

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FORTY YEARSOF SPY'BYLESLIE WARD

Illustrated

LONDONCHATTO Gf WINDUS

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PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.

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CONTENTSCHAPTER IEAKLY DAYS

come into the world,The story of my ancestry.My mother.Wilkie Collins.The Collins family.Slough land Upton.Thefuneral of the Duchess of Kent.The marriage of the PrincessEoyal.Her Majesty Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort.Their visits to my parents' studios.The Prince of Wales.SirWilliam Boss, E.A, Westminster Abbey. My composition.A visit to Astley's Theatre.^Wilkie Collins and Pigott.ThePanopticon.The Thames frozen over.The Comet.General SirJohn Hearsey.Kent ViUa.My father.Lady Waterford.MarcusStone and Vicat Cole.The Crystal Palace.Rev. J. M. BeUew.Kyrle BeUew.I go to school.Wentworth Hope Johnstone

CHAPTEE IIETON AND AFTER

Eton days.Windsor Pair.My Dame.Fights and Pun.BoveneyCourt.Mr. Hall Say.Boveney.Professor and Mrs. Attwell.I win a useful prize.Alban Doran.My father's frescoes.BattleAbbey. Gainsborough's Tomb.Knole. Our burglar. ClaudeCalthrop.^Clayton Calthrop.The Gardener as Critic.The Gipsywith an eye for colour.I attempt sculpture.The Terry family.Private theatricals.Sir John Hare.Miss Marion Terry.MissEllen Terry.Miss Kate Terry.Miss Bateman.Miss FlorenceSt. John.Constable.Sir Howard Viuoent.I dance withlPatti.Lancaster Gate and Meringues.Prayers and Pantries. 27

CHAPTER IIIMY father's friendsMy father's friends.-The Pre-Eaphaelites.Plum-box painting.The

Victorians. The Post-Impressionists. Maclise. Sir EdwinLandseer.Tom Landseer.Mulready.Daniel Roberts.EdwardCooke. Burgess and Long. Frith. Millais. Stephens andHolman Hunt.Stanfield.C. R. Leslie.Dr. John Doran.Mr.

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vui CONTENTSPASE

and Mrs. S. 0. Hall.The Virtues, James and William.Mr. andMrs. Tom Taylor.A story of Temiyson.Sam Lover.Moschelespire et ^Js.-Philip Calderon.Sir Theodore and Lady Martin.Garibaldi.Lord Crewe.Feohter.Joachim and Lord Houghton.Charles Dickens.Lord Stanhope.William Hepworth Dixon.Sir Charles Dilke. **

CHAPTEE IVWOEK AND PLAY

School-days ended.A trip to Paris.Versailles and the Morgue.I enter the office of Sydney Smirke, K.A.Montagu WiUiams andOhristohuroh.A squall.Frith as arbitrator.I nearly lose mylife.William Virtue to the rescue.-The Honourable Mrs. ButlerJohnson Munro.I visit Knebv?orth.Lord Lytton.Spiritualism.My first picture in the Eoyal Academy.A Scotch holiday withmy friend Bichard Dunlop.Patrick Adam.Mr. and Mrs. ArthurLewis.Mr. George Fox and Harry Fox.Sir William JafiEray.Mr.William Cobbett.Adventures on and ofi a horse.Peter Graham.Cruikshank.Mr. Phenfe Spiers.Johnston Forbes-Robertson andIrving.Fred Walker.-Arthur Sullivan.Sir Henry de Bathe.Sir Spencer Ponsonby.Du Maurier.Arthur Cecil.Sir FrancisBurnand.The Bennett Benefit. 67

CHAPTER V'spy'

My coming of age.The letter.The Doctor's verdict.The Doctor'spretty daughter.Arthur Sullivan." DoUy " Storey.Lord Leven'sgarden party.Professor Owen.Gibson Bowles.Arthur Lewis.Carlo Pellegrini.Paolo Tosti.Pagani's.J. J. Tiasot. VanityPair.Some of the Contributors.Anthony TroUope.John StuartMiU. The World.Edmund Yates.Death of Lord Lytton.Mr.Maoquoid. Luke Fildes. Small. Gregory. Herkomer. TheQrwpMc.Gladstone.Disraeli, etc. 89

CHAPTER VICABICATUEE

Cannot be taught.Where I stalk.The ugly man.The handsome man.Physical defects,Warts.Joachim Liszt and Oliver Cromwell.Pellegrini, Millais and Whistler.The characteristic portrait.Taking notes.Methods.Photography.Tattersall's.^Lord Lons-dale.Lord Rocksavage.-^WUliam Gillette.Mr. Bayard.The baldman.The humorous sitter.Tyler.^Profiles.Cavalry OfficersThe Queen's uniform.My subjects' wives.What they think.Bribery.Bradlaugh.The Prince of Wales.The tailor story.SirWatkin Williams Wynn.Lord Henry Lennox.CardinalNewman.The Rev. Arthur Tooth.Dr. Spooner.Comyns Carr.Pigott.

' Palk and " Mr. Spy." 109

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CONTENTS ixCHAPTER VIIPORTEA.ITUEE

PAS!Some of my sitters.Mrs. Tom Caley.Lady Leuoha Warner.LadyLoudoun.Colonel Corbett.Miss Beiss.The late Mrs. Harry

MoCalmont.The Duke of Hamilton.Sir W. Jaffray.The Queenof Spain.Soldier sitters.Millais.Sir William CunlifEe Brooks.Holman Hunt.George Richmond.Sir William Richmond.SirLuke Pildes.Lord Leighton.Sir Laurence Ahna Tadema.SirGeorge Reid.Orchardson. Pettie. Prank Dioksee. AugustusLumley.-" Archie " Stuart Wortley.John Varley.John CoUier.Sir Keith Fraser.-Sir Charles Eraser.-Mrs. Langtry.Mrs.CornwaUis West.Miss Rousby.The Prince of Wales.KingGeorge as a boy.Children's portraits.Mrs. Weldon.GhristabelPankhurst. 140

CHAPTER VIIIMY CLUBS

The Arts Club.Mrs. Frith's funeral.The sympathetic waiter.Swin-burne.Whistler.Edmund Yates.-The Orleans Club.Sir GeorgeWombwell." Hughie " Drummond." Patty " Coleman.LadyMeux.The Prize Fighter and her nephew.The Curate.TheTheobald's Tiger.Whistler and his pictures.-Charles Brookfield.Mrs. Brookfield.The Lotus Club.Kate Vaughan.Nellie Parren.The Lyric Club.The Gallery Club.Some Members.TheJockey Club Stand.My plunge on the turf.The Beefsteak Club.Toole and Irving.The Fielding Club.Archie Wortley.CharlesKeene.The Amateur Pantomime.Some of the caste.OorneyGrain.A night on Ebury Bridge.-The Punch Bowl Club.OliverWendell Holmes.Lord Houghton and the herring. 161

CHAPTER IXTHE LAW

The Inspiration of the Courts.Montagu WiUiams.Lefroy.The DeGonoourt case.Irving.Sir Frank Lockwood.Dr. Lampson, thepoisoner.Mr. Justice Hawkins.The Tichborne case.^Mr. JusticeMellor and Mr. Justice Lush.The Druce case.The Countess ofOssington.The Duke's portrait.My models.^The Adventuress.The insolent omnibus conductor.I winmy case.Sir George Lewis.The late Lord Grimthorpe.Sir Charles Hall.Lord Halsbury.Sir Alfred Oripps (now Lord Parmoor).Sir Herbert Cozens-Hardy.Lord Robert Cecil.The late Sir Albert de Rutzen.Mr. CharlesGill.Sir Charles Matthews.Lord Alverstone.Mr. Birrell.Mr.Plowden.Mr. Marshall Hall.Mr. H. 0. Biron. 194

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CONTENTSCHAPTER X

THE CHUKCH AND THE VARSITIESPARSONS OF MANY CREEDSAND DENOMINATIONS pageDean Wellesley.Dr. James Sewell.Canon Ainger.Lord Tomngton.Dr. Goodford.Dr. WeUdon.Dr. Walker.The Van Beers'

Supper.The Bishop of Lichfield.Bev. B. J. CampbeU.CardinalVaughan.Dr. Benson, Archbishop of Canterbury.Dr. ArmitageBobinson.Varsity Athletes.Etherington-Smith.John LoraineBaldwin.Eanjitsinhii.Mr. Muttlebury.Mr. " Eudy " Lehmann. 218

CHAPTEE XIIN THE LOBBY

In the House.Distinguished soldiers.The main Lobby.The IrishParty.Isaac Butt.Mr. Mitchell Henry.Parnell and Dillon.Gladstone and Disraeli.Lord Arthur Hill.^Lord Alexander Paget.^Viscount Midleton.Mr. Seely.Lord Alington's cartoon.Chaplains of the " House "Bev. F. E. C. Byng.Archdeacon Wil-berforce.The " Fourth Party."Lord Northbrook and Col. NapierSturt.Lord Lytton.The method of Millais.Lord Londonderry. 236

CHAPTEE XIIVOYAGE ON H.M.S. HERCULES

Sir Beginald Macdonald's caricature.H.B.H. the Duke of Edinburgh'sinvitation.The Lively.The Hercules.Admiral Sir WiUiamHewitt.Irish excursions.The Channel Squadron.Fishing partyat Loch Brine.The young Princes arrive on the Bacchamte.Cruiseto Vigo.The "Night Alarm."The Duke as bon voyageur.^Vigo.The birthday picnic.A bear-fight on board the Hercules.Home-ward bound.Good-bye.The Duke's visit to my studio. 252

CHAPTER XIIIYACHTSMENFOREIGN RULERS

Lord Charles Beresford.Cowes.Lady Cardigan.Chevalier Martino.Lord Albemarle.Harry McCalmont.Eoyal Sailors.King EdwardVII.Queen Alexandra.Prince Louis of Battenberg.^King ofGreece.Foreign Rulers.The Prince Imperial.Don Carlos.General Ignatiefi.Midhat Pasha.Sir Salar Jung.Bas Makounan.Cetewayo.Shah of Persia.Viscount Tadasu Hayashi, etc. 268

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COJNTJiJNTK xiCHAPTER XIV

MUSICIANSAUTHOESACTOES AND AETISTS pageWagner.Richter.Dan Godfrey.Arthur Cecil.Sir Frederick Bridge

and bombs.W. S. Penley.Sir Herbert Tree.Max Beerbohm.Mr. and Mrs. Kendal.Henry Kemble.Sir Edgar Boehm.GeorgeDu Maurier.^Rudyard Kipling.Alfred Austin.WiUiam Black.Thomas Hardy.W. E. Henley.Egerton Castle.Samuel Smiles.Farren.Sir Squire and Lady Bancroft.Dion Boucioault and hiswife.Sir Charles Wyndham.Leo Trevor.Cyril Maude.WilliamGillette.The late Dion Bouoicault.Arthur Bourchier.AllanAynesworth.Charlie Hawtrey.The Grossmiths.^H. B. Irving.W. L. Courtney.Willie Elliot."Beau Little"^Henry ArthurJones.Gustavo Dor^.J. MacNeil WhistlerWalter Crane.P. C. G.Lady Ashburton and her forgetfulness 283

CHAPTER XVNOTABLE PEERSTANGIERTHE TBCKS

Peers of the Period.My Voyage to Tangier.Marlborough House andWhite Lodge. 303CHAPTER XVI

MARRIAGE SOME CLERICSFAREWELL TO VANITY FAIRMy engagement and marriage to Miss Topham-Watney." Drawl " andthe Kruger cartoon."The General Group."Field-Marshal LordRoberts.Archbishops Temple and Randall Davidson.The Bishopof London.Archbishop of York.Canon Fleming.Lord Montaguof Beaulieu.Lord Salisbury's cartoon.Mr. Asquith.Joe Knight.Lord Newlands.Four great men in connection with Canada.TheQueen of Spain.Princess Beatrice of Saxe-Coburg.General SirWilliam Francis Butler, G.C.B.Mr. Witherby.Farewell totVanityFair. 321

CHAPTER XVIIA HOLIDAY MISFOETUNEROYAL POETEAITSFAREWELL

Belgium.Accident at Golf.Portraits of King George V, the Duke ofConnaught, Mr. Roosevelt, Mr. Lloyd George, Mr. Garvin.Portrait painting of to-day.Final reflections.Farewell. 332

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ILLUSTEATIONSIN COLOUE

TACISG PAGEMr. Charles Cox (Banker), 1881 i6The Marquis of Winchester, 1904 60Sir Alfred Scott-Gatty (Garter King-at-Arms, 1905) 70Lord Haldon, 1882 138Admiral Sir Compton Domville, 1906 lMiss Christabel Pankhurst JP. B. Spofiorth (Demon Bowler), 1878 232Mr. Gladstone, 1887 288Sir Albert EoUit, 1886 . 248The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Temple, 1902 324The Marquis of Salisbury, 1902 326

IN HALE-TONELeslie Ward FrontispieceJames Ward, B.A. 2James Ward's Mother 2Miniature of my sister Alice and myself painted by Sir William Ross, R.A. 12My Father 14My Mother 14Cartoons from Punch, 1865 22Sir William Broadbent, 1902 30Sir Thomas Barlow, 1903 30Sir James Paget, Bart., 1876 30My Brother, Wriothesley BusseU, 1872 36My Sister, Beatrice, 1874 36Bust of my Brother, Wriothesley Eussell, 1867 38My Daughter Sylvia 38John Everett Millais, R.A., 1874 540. R. Leslie, R.A. (my Godfather) 54Lord Houghton, 1882 66Fred Archer, 1881 66The Duke of Beaufort, ctJ-. 1895 66First Lord Lytton (Bulwer Lytton), 1869 76

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xiv ILLUSTKATIONSFACING FAGH

Mr. George Lane Pox, 1878 82Lord Portman, 1898 82Duke of Grafton, 1886 82Sir William Jafiray, Bart. 88Sir William Crookes, 1903 92Sir Oliver Lodge, 1904 92Sir WiUiam Huggins, 1903 92Professor Owen, 1873 92Thomas Gibson Bowles, 1905 94Colonel HaU Walker, 1906 94Colonel Fred Burnaby, 1876 9*Pellegrini Asleep, etc., dr. 1889 98John Tenniel, 1878 104Anthony Trollope, 1873 104Sir Francis Doyle, Bart., 1877 104" Miles Bugglebury," 1867 108J. Redmond, M.P., 1904 112The Speaker (J. W. Lowther, M.P.), 1906 112Bonar;Law, M.P., 1905 112Henry Kemble, 1907 118H. Beerbohm Tree, 1890 118Gerald du Maurier, 1907 118William Gillette, 1907 118Fifth Earl of Portsmouth, 1876 122Major Oswald Ames (Ozzie), 1896 122Earl of Lonsdale, 1879 122The Rev. R. J. CampbeU, 1904 126Sterling Stuart, 1904 126Father Bernard Vaughan, 1907 126Canon Liddon, 1876 132Cardinal Nevnnan, 1877 132The Dean of Windsor (Wellesley), 1876 132Dr. Jowett, 1876 134Dr. Spooner, 1898 184Professor Robinson Ellis, 1894 134Buckstone, and other Sketches 140Mrs. GeorgejRigby Murray 144A Study 144The Hon. Mrs. Adrian Pollock 144A Midsummer-Night's Dream 150Grand Prix 150The Beefsteak Club I54George Grossmith and Corney Grain, 1888 178C. Birch Crisp, 1911 186Oliver Locker Lampson, M.P., 1911 186Weedon Grossmith, 1905 186The Forty Thieves : programme and photographs 188

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ILLUSTRATIONS xvFACIKG PAGBJohnny Giffard ; Alfred Thompson ; Oomey Grain; "Tom" Bird; Coruey

Grain at Datohet ; Pellegrini 190Augustus Haider, M.P. ; Madame Raohel ; Lord Ranelagh ; Beal, M.P.Barnum ; First Lord Oowley ; Sir H. Cozens-Hardy ; The Dean o

Ohristohuroh ; Sir Eoderiok Muroheson 198Lord Coleridge, 1870 210Mr. Justice Oozens-Hardy, 1893 210H. C. Biron, 1907 210E. S. Fordham, 1908 210Charles Williams-Wynn, M.P., 1879 214Sir James Ingham, 1886 214Lord Vivian (Hook and Eye), 1876 214Sir Albert de Kutzen, 1909 216Mr. Plowden, 1910 216Canon Ainger, 1892 22216th Marquis of Winchester, 1904 222Archdeacon Wilberforoe, 1909 222Rev. J. L. Joynes, 1887 224Dr. Warre Cornish, 1901 224Dr. Goodford, 1876 224Rev. R. J. CampbeU, 1904 230Sam Loates, 1896 234Arthur Coventry, 1881 234Frank Wootton, 1909 234Fordham, 1882 284" Dizzy " and " Monty " Corry (Lord Rowton), 1880 240Campbell-Bannerman and Fowler, 1892 246Gladstone and Harcourt, 1892 246Lords Spencer and Ripon, 1892 246The Fourth Party, 1881 250Baron Deiohmann, 1903 252W. Bramston Beach, M.P., 1895 252*" Sam " Smith, M.P., 1904 252Percy Thornton, M.P., 1900 252Seventh Earl of Bessborough, 1888 260Rev. F. H. GiUingham, 1906 260Archdeacon Benjamin Harrison, 1885 260" OharUe " Beresford, 1876 268Admiral Sir John Fisher, 1902 268Admiral Sir Regd. Macdonald, 1880 268Captain Jelliooe, 1906 268King Edward VII, 1902 270Sir John Astley 276" Jim ' Lowther, M.P., 1877 276Peter GUpin, 1908 276Earl of MacolesBeld, 1881 276Chinese Ambassador (Euo Sung Tuo), 1877 280

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xvi ILLUSTEATIONSFACING PAGEBas Makonnen, 1903 280

Chinese Ambassador (Chang Ta Jen), 1903 280Eichard Wagner, 1877 284The Abb6 Liszt, 1886 284Kubelik, 1903 286Sir Frederick Bridge, 1904 , 286Paderewaki, 1899 286Sir Edgar Boehm, Bart., B. A., 1884 ; and the brass on Sir Edgar Boehm'sTomb 290Sir Henry Lucy, 1909 292W. S. Gilbert, 1881 292W. E. Henley, 1892 292Rudyard Kipling, 1894 292From Nursery Ehyme Sketches ; Et. Hon. " Bobby " Low ; Mr. Justice

Lawrence ; Danckwerts, K.C. ; the late Lord Chief Justice Cockburna Smile from Nature ; Henry Irving 296

Lord Newlands, 1909 306Count de Several, 1898 306M. Gennadius, 1888 306General Sir H. Smith Dorrien, 1911 312Lord Eoberts, 1900 312Lord Kitchener, 1899 312Lloyd George, 1911 318Asquith, 1904 318Enfus Isaacs, 1904 318My Daughter 322My Wife 322Joseph Knight, and a facsimile letter 326Princess Ena of Battenberg, 1906 330Sketches drawn in September, 1899, by Mr. A. G. Witherby 332M. P. Grace, Esq., Battle Abbey 34O

IN LINECruikshank's Autograph ggFacsimile of a Whistler letter 299" Smile, damn you, smile I " 334

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FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'CHAPTER IEARLY DAYS

I come into tho world.^The story of my ancestry.^My mother.^WilkieCollins.^The Collins family.Slough and Upton.^The funeral ofthe Duchess of Kent.^The marriage of the Princess Royal.-HerMajesty Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort.^Their visits to myparents' studios.^The Prince of Wales.Sir William Ross, R.A.Westminster Abbey.^My composition.A visit to Astleys Theatre.Wakie Collins and Pigott.^The Panopticon.^The Thames frozenover.^The Comet.General Sir John Hearsey.Kent Villa.Myfather.Lady Waterford.^Marcus Stone and Vicat Cole.^The CrystalPalace.Rev. J. M. Bellew.Kyrle BeUew.I go to school.^Went-worth Hope Johnstone.

In the course of our lives the monotonous repetitionof daily routine and the similarity of the types wemeet make our minds less and less susceptible toimpressions, with the result that important eventsand interesting rencontres of last yearor even oflast weekpass from our recollection far morereadily than the trifling occurrences and casualacquaintanceships of early days. The deep indenta-tions which everything makes upon the memorywhen the brain is young and receptive, when every-thing is novel and comes as a surprise, remain withmost men and women throughout their lives. I amno exception to this rule ; I remember, with extra-ordinary clearness of vision, innumerable incidents,trivial perhaps in themselves, but infinitely dear tome. They shine back across the years with a vividoutline, the clearer for a background of forgottenand perhaps important events now lost in shadow.

I was born at Harewood Square, London, onE

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2 FORTY lYEARS OF 'SPY'November 21st, 1851, and I was named after mygodfather, C, R. Leslie, R.A., the father of GeorgeLeslie, R.A.

My father, E. M. Ward, R.A., the only profes-sional artist of his family, and the nephew by marriageof Horace Smith (the joint author with James Smithof "The Rejected Addresses"), fell in love withMiss Henrietta Ward (who, although of the samename, was no relation), and married her when shewas just sixteen. My mother came of a long line ofartists. Her father, George Raphael Ward, a mezzo-tint engraver and miniature painter, also marriedan artist who was an extremely clever miniaturepainter. John Jackson, R.A., the portrait painterin ordinary to WilHam IV., was my mother's great-uncle, and George Morland became related to her byhis marriage with pretty Anne Ward, whose life hewrecked by his drunken profligacy. His treatmentof his wife, in fact, alienated from Morland men whowere his friends, and amongst them my great-grandfather, James Ward (who, like my father,married a Miss Ward, an artist and a namesake).James W^ard, R.A., was a most interesting characterand an artist of great versatility. As landscape,animal, and portrait painter, engraver, lithographer,and modeller, his work shows extraordinary ability.In his early days poverty threatened to wreck hiscareer, but although misfortune hindered his progress,he surmounted every obstacle with magnificentcourage and tenacity of purpose. On the subjectof theology, his artistic temperament was curiouslyintermingled with his faith, but when he wished toembody his mysticism and ideals in paint, he failed.On the other hand, we have some gigantic master-pieces in the Tate and National Galleries which I

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JAMES AND WILLIAM WARD 3think will bear the test of time in their power andexcellence. " Power," to quote a contemporaryaccount of James' life, " was the keynote of his work,he loved to paint mighty bulls and fiery stallions,picturing their brutal strength as no one has donebefore or since." He ground his colours and manu-factured his own paints, made experiments in pig-ments of all kinds, and " Gordale Scar " is a proofof the excellence of pure medium. The picture waspainted for the late Lord Ribblesdale, and when itproved to be too large to hang on his walls, thecanvas was rolled and stored in the cellars of theBritish Museum. At the rise and fall of the Thames,water flooded the picture; but after several years'obhvion it was discovered, rescued from damp andmildew, and after restoration was found to havelost none of its freshness and colour.As an engraver alone James Ward was famous,but the attraction of colour, following upon hisaccidental discoverythat he could paintmadewhile he was repairing an oil painting, encouragedhimto abandon his engraving and take up the brush.This he eventually did, in spite of the great opposi-tion from artists of the day, Hoppner amongst them,who all wished to retain his services as a cleverengraver of their own work. William Ward, themezzotint engraver, whose works are fetching greatsums to-day, encouraged his younger brother, andJames held to his decision. He eventually provedhis talent, but his triumph was not achieved withoutgreat vicissitude and discouragement. He becameanimal painter to the King, and died at the greatage of ninety, leaving a large number of works of awidely different character, many of which are in thepossession of the Hon. John Ward, M.V.O.

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4 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'The following letters from Sir Edwin Landseer,

Mulready, and Holman Hunt to my father, showin some degree the regard in which other greatartists held both him and his pictures :

November 21st, 1859.My DEAK Sir,... I beg to assure you that notamongst the large group of mourners that regrethim will you find one friend who so appreciated hisgenius or respected him more as a good man.

Believe me,Yours sincerely,

E. Landseer.Liiiden Grove,

Notting Hill,June l8t, 1862.Dear Sir,

I agree with my brother artists in theiradmiration of your wife's grandfather's pictures ofCattle, now in the International Exhibition, andI believe its being permanently placed in our NationalGallery would be useful in our school and an honourto our country.

I am. Dear Sir,Yours faithfully,

W. Mulreaby.June 26th, 1862.My dear Sir,

... It is many years now since I sawMrs. Ward's Grandfather's famous picture of the" Bull, Cow, and Calf." I have not been able togo and see it in the International Exhibition. Mymemory of it is, however, quite clear enough to

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MY MOTHEK 5allow me to express my very great admiration forthe qualities of drawing, composition, and colourfor which it is distinguished. In the two last parti-culars it will always be especially interesting as oneof the earliest attempts to liberate the art of thiscentury from the conventionalities of the last. . . .

Yours very truly,W. HoLMAN Hunt.

My mother's versatile talent has ably upheld thereputation of her artistic predecessors ; she paintsbesides figure-subjects delightful interiors, charminglittle bits of country life, and inherits the gift ofpainting dogs, which she represents with remarkablefacility.

Although both my parents were historicalpainters, my mother's style was in no way similarto my father's. Her quality of painting is of a dis-tinctive kind. This was especially marked in thepainting of " Mrs. Fry visiting Newgate," one ofthe most remarkable of her pictures. The picturewas hung on the line in the Royal Academy, andafter a very successful reception was engraved.Afterwards, both painting and engraving werestolen by the man to whom they were entrusted forexhibition round the country ; this man lived on theproceeds and pawned the picture. Eventually thepainting was recovered and bought for America,and it is still perhaps the most widely known of themany works of my mother purchased for publicgalleries.

It is not surprising, therefore, that I should haveinherited some of the incHnations of my artisticprogenitors.My earliest recollection is of a sea-trip at the age

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6 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'of four, when I remember tasting my first acidulateddrop, presented me by an old lady whose appearanceI can recollect perfectly, together with the remem-brance of my pleasure and the novelty of the strangesweet.My mother tells me my first caricatures were ofsoldiers at Calais, I am afraid that^youthful asI then wasthey could hardly have been anythingbut caricatures.

WiUde Collins came into my life even earlier thanthis. I was going to say J remember him at mychristening, but I am afraid my words would bediscredited even in these days of exaggeration. TheweU-known novelist, who was a great friend of myparents, was then at the height of his fame. He hadwhat I knew afterwards to be an unfortunate " cast

"in one eye, which troubled me very much as a child,for when teUing an anecdote or making an observa-tion to my father, I frequently thought he wasaddressing me, and I invariably grew embarrassedbecause I did not understand, and was thereforeunable to reply.

Other members of the CoUins family visited us.There was old Mrs. Collins, the widow of WilliamColHns, R,A, ; a quaint old lady who wore her kidboots carefully down on one side and then reversedthem and wore them down on the other. Shehad ahorror of Highlanders because they wore kilts, whichshe considered scandalous.Charles Colhns, one of the original pre-Raphaehtebrotherhood, her son, and Wilkie's brother, paidfrequent week-end visits to our house, and thememory of Charles is surrounded by a halo of mysteryand wonder, for he possessed a magic snuff-boxmade of gold inset with jewels, and at a word of

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SLOUGH 7command a little bird appeared on it, which dis-appeared in the same wonderful manner. But whatwas even more wonderful, Mr. Collins persuaded methat the bird flew all round the room singing untilit returned to the box and fascinated me all overagain. In after years I remember seeing a similarbox and discovering the deception and mechanism.My disappointment for my shattered ideal was veryhard to bear.My imagination as a small child, although itendowed me with happy.hours, was sometiines rathertoo much for me. On being presented with a sword,I invented a lion to kill with it, and grew so frightenedfinally of the creature of my own invention that atthe last moment, preparatory to a triumphant rushintended to culminate in victory, I was obligedto retreat in terror behind my mother's skirts, myclutch becoming so frantic that she had to releaseherself from my grasp.On leaving Harewood Square, my parents wentto live at Upton Park, Slough, where I spent someof the happiest days of my life. Always a charminglittle place, it was then to me very beautiful. Iremember the old church, deUghtfuUy situated bythe roadside, the little gate by the low wall, andthe long line of dark green yews bordering the flaggedpaths, where the stately people walked into church,followed by small Page boys in Hvery carryingbig bags containing the prayer-books. Leech hasdepicted those quaint children in many a humorousdrawing. There were two ladies whom I recollectas far from stately. I wish I could meet them now.Such subjects for a caricature one rarely has theopportunity of seeing. Quite six feet, ungainly,gawky, with odd clothes and queer faces, not unlike

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8 FOKTY YEARS OF 'SPY'those of birds, they always inspired me with theutmost curiosity and astonishment. These ladiesbore the name of " Trumper," and I remember theycaUed upon us one day. The servant^perhapsembarrassed by their strange appearanceannouncedthem as the " Miss Trumpeters," and the accidentalname labelled them for ever. Even now I think ofthem as " the Trumpeters." The eccentricity ofthie Miss Trumpers was evidently hereditary, for onthe occasion of a dinner-party given at their house,old Mrs. Trumper startled her guests at an earlystage of the meal by bending a little too far over herplate, and causing her wig and cap to fall with asplash into her soup.

The ivy mantled tower was claimed very jealouslyin those days by the natives of Upton to be thetower of Gray's " Elegy," but it was in Stoke Pogeschurchyard that Gray wrote his exquisite poem, andit is there by the east wall of the old church that" the poet sleeps his last sleep."

In the meadow by the chancel window standsthe cenotaph raised to his mernory by John Penn,who, although the Pennsylvanians will assure youhe rests safely in their native town, is buried in avillage called Penn not far distant.

The churchyard always impresses me with itsatmosphere of romantic associations ; the fine oldelm tree, and the pines, and the two ancient yewscasting their dark shade

" Where heaves the turf with many a mouldering heap,"all add to the poetic feeling that is still so complete^preserved.When one enters the church the impression gainedoutside is somewhat impaired by some startlingly

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UPTON CHURCH 9ugly stained glass windows, which to my mind area blot on the church. There is one which is socrushingly obvious as to be positively painful to theeye. It must be remembered, of course, that thesedrawbacks are comparatively modern, and a few ofthe windows are very quaint. One very old onereveals an anticipatory gentleman riding a woodenbicycle.

The Reverend Hammond Tooke was then Rectorof Upton Church, and a friend of my people. Mrs.Tooke was interested in me, and gave me my firstBible, which I still possess, but which, I am afraid,is not opened as often as it used to be. My excuselies in my fear lest it should fall to pieces if I touchedit. On the way to and from church we used to passthe old Rectory House (in after days the residenceof George Augustus Sala), then owned by an admiralof -whom I have not the slightest recollection. Theadmiral's garden was a source of unfailing interest,for there, on the surface of a small pond, floated aminiature man-o'-war.

Another scene of happy hours was HerschelHouse, which belonged to an old lady whom wefrequently visited. On her lawn stood the famoustelescope, which was so gigantically constructed thatin search of science !it enabled me to my delightto run up and down it. Sir William Herschel mademost of his great discoveries at this house, includingthat of the planet Uranus.

Living so near Windsor we naturally witnesseda great number of incidents, interesting and specta-cular. From our roof we saw the funeral processionof the Duchess of Kent, winding along the Sloughroad, and from a shop window in Windsor watchedthe bridal carriage of the Princess Royal (on the

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10 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'occasion of her marriage to the Crown Prince ofPrussia) being dragged up Windsor Hill by theEton boys. I can also recall an opportunity beinggiven us of witnessing from the platform of Sloughstation, gaily decorated for the occasion, the entryof a train which was conveying Victor Emmanuel,then King of Sardinia, to Windsor Castle. If Iremember rightly, the Mayorwith the inevitableCorporationread an address, and it was then thatI saw the robust monarch in his smart green andgold uniform, with a plumed hat : his round featuresand enormous moustache are not easily forgotten.

The station-master at Slough was an extra-ordinary character, and full of importance, withan appearance in keeping. He rnust have weighedquite twenty-two stone. He used to walk downthe platform heralding the approaching train witha penetrating voice that resounded through thestation. There is a story told of how he went tohis grandson's christening, and, missing his accus-tomed position of supreme importance and promi-nence, he grew bored, fell asleep in a comfortablepew . . . and snored until the roof vibrated ! Whenthe officiating clergyman attempted to rouse himby asking the portly sponsor the name of his god-child, he awoke suddenly and repUed loudly, " Slough-Sloughchange for Windsor ! "

During the progress of my father's commissionedpictures, " The Visit of Queen Victoria to the Tombof Napoleon I." and " The Investiture of NapoleonIII. with the Order of the Garter " (both of which,I believe, still hang in Buckingham Palace), theQueen and Prince Consort made frequent visits tomy father's studio. On one of these visits of inspecttion, the Queen was attracted by some little pictures

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THE PRINCE OF WALES 11done by my mother of her children, with whichshe was so much pleased that she asked her to paintone of Princess Beatrice (then a baby of ten monthsold). Before the departure of the Royal familyon this occasion, we children were sent for, andupon entering the room made our bow and curtseyas we had been taught to do by our governess. Myyoungest sister, however, being a mere baby, toddledin after us with an air of indifference which shecontinued to show. I suppose the gold and scarletliveries of the Royal servants were more attractiveto her than the quiet presence of the Royal people.When the Queen departed, we hurried to the nurserywindows. To my delight, I saw the Prince ofWales waving his mother's sunshade to us, and inreturn I kept waving my hand to him until thecarriage was out of sight.

In after years my father told me with someamusement, how the Prince Consort (who wasgrowing stouter) reduced the size of the paintedfigure of himself in my father's picture by drawinga chalk line, and remarking, " That's where my waistshould be ! "I sat to my parents very often, and my fatheroccasionally gave me sixpence as a reward for theagonies I considered I endured, standing in awkwardattitudes, impatiently awaiting my freedom. Inmy mother's charming picture called " God savethe Queen," which represents her sitting at the piano,her fingers on the keys, her face framed by soft curlsis turned to a small group representing her childrenwho are singing the National Anthem. Here Ifigure with sword, trumpet, and helmet, looking asif I would die for my Queen and my country, whilemy sisters watch with wide interested eyes.

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12 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'My sisters and I often played about my mother's

studio while she painted. She never seemed tofind our presence troublesome, although I believewe were sometimes a nuisance, whereas my fatherwas obliged to limit his attentions to us when workwas finished for the day.

I loved to draw, and on Sundays the subject hadto be Biblical, as to draw anything of an everydaynature on the Sabbath was in those days considered,even for a child, highly reprehensible (at all events,by my parents).

Even then I was determined to be an artist.I remember that one day my oldest friend, EdwardNash (whose parents were neighbours of ours) andI were watching the Seaforth Highlanders go by,and, roused perhaps by this inspiring sight, we fellto discussing our futures.

" I'm going to be an artist," I announced." What are you ? "

" I'm going to be a Scotchman," he repliedgravely. In after life he distinguished himself as agreat athlete, played football for Rugby in the-school "twenty," and was one of the founders ofthe Hockey Club. He is now a successful solicitorand the father of athletic sons.A very interesting personality crossed my pathat this period in the shape of Sir William Ross, R.A.,the last really great miniature painter of his time.He was a most courteous old gentleman, and therewas nothing of the artist in his appearanceat leastaccording to the accepted view of the appearanceof an artist. In fact, he was more like a benevolentold doctor than anything else. When my sisterAlice and I knew that we were to sit to him for ourportraits, we rather liked, instead of resenting, the

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Miniatni-r of my sister Alice and myselfpainted bySi?- William Ross, R. A., 1855.

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A MINIATUEE BY ROSS 13idea (as perhaps would have been natural), for helooked so kind. After our first sitting he told meto eat the strawberry I had held so patiently. Iobediently did as he suggested, and after each sittingI was rewarded in this way. The miniature turnedout to be a chef d^o&uvre. It is so beautiful in itsextreme delicacy and manipulation that it delightsme always. My mother values it so much that inorder to retain its freshness she keeps it looked upand shows it only to those who she knows will appre-ciate its exquisite qualities. Queen Victoria saidwhen it was shown to her, " I have many fine minia-tures by Ross, but none to equal that one."We visited many artists' studios with our parents.I am told I was an observant child and consequentlyhad to be warned against making too outspokencriticisms on the pictures and their painters. Onone occasion a Mr. Bell was coming to dine ; we wereallowed in the drawing-room after dinner, and ashis appearance* was likely to excite our interest,we were warned by our governess against remarkingon Mr. Bell's nose. This warmng resulted in ouranticipation rising to something like excitement,and the moment I entered the room, my gaze wentstraight to his nose and stayed there. I recollectsearching my brain for a comparison, and comingto the conclusion that it resembled a bunch of grapes.My father was a very keen student of archaeology ;and I think he must have known the history of everybuilding in London inside and out ! I rememberthat once he took us to Westminster Abbey, there,as usual, to make known to us, I have no doubt,many interesting facts. Afterwards we went toSt. James' Park, where my father pointed out theornamental lake where King Charles the Second fed

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14 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'his ducks, and told our governess that he thoughtit would be an excellent idea if when we returned wewere to write a description of our adventures. Thenext day, accordingly, we sat down to write ourcompositions ; and although my sister's proves tohave been not so bad, mine, as will be seen, wasshocking. The reader will observe that in speakingof St. James' Park, I have gone so far as to say" King Charles fed his duchess by the lake," whichseems to imply a knowledge of that gay monarchbeyond my years." Thl/[e other day you were so kinnd as to takeus to Westminster Abbey we went in a cab and wegot out of the cab at poets corner and then went inWestminster Abbey and we saw the tombe of queenEleanor and then we saw the tomb of queen Elizabethand Mary and the tomb of Henry VII and his wifelying by him and the tomb of Henry's mother, thenwe came to the tow little children of James II andin the middle the two little Princes that weresmothered in the tower and there bones were foundthere and and bort to Westminster Abbey and berrydthere. We saw the sword which was corrade in theprocession after the battle of Cressy and we thensaw the two coronation Chairs were the kings andqueens were crowned and onder one of the Chairs alarge stone under it that Edward brought with hinAnd we saw the tomb of Gorge II who was the lastman who was berried there. Then we went to abakers shop and we had some buns and wen we haddone papa said to the woman three buns one barthbun and ane biscuit and papa forgot his gluves andi said they were in the shop and papa said silly boywhy did you not teU me and then to the cloysterswere three monks were berried then the senkuary

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A VISIT TO ASTLEY'S 15were the duke of York was taken and then thejeruclam chamber and then to Marlborough housewere Marlborough lived and then Westminster halland then judge Gerfys house and the inclosid atS' James park were Charles II fed his duchess andthen we came home and had our tee and then wentto bed."A visit to London, which made a far greaterimpression on me, was made later, when I went toAstley's Theatre. Originally a circus in the West-minster Bridge Road, started by Philip Astley,who had been a light horseman in the army, thetheatre was celebrated for equestrian performances." Astley'-s," as it was called, formed the subjectof one of the " Sketches by Boz." " It was not aRoyal Amphitheatre," wrote Dickens, " in thosedays, nor had Duncan arisen to shed the light ofclassic taste and portable gas over the sawdust of thecircus ; but the whole character of the place was thesame, the clown's jokes were the same, the ridingmasters were equally grand . . . the tragediansequally hoarse. . . . Astley's has changed for thebetter . . . we have changed for the worse."Thackeray mentions the theatre in " The New-comes." "Who was it," he writes, " that took thechildren to Astley's but Uncle Newcome ? "

Mr. Wilkie Collins and Mr. Pigott (afterwardsExaminer of Plays) took us ; we had a large box,and the play Garibaldiwas most enthralling.I was overwhelmed with grief at Signora Garibaldi'sdeath scene. There were horses, of course, in thegreat battle, and one of these was especially intelh-gent ; hmping from an imaginary wound, he tookbetween his teeth from his helpless rider a handker-chief, dipped it in a pool of water, and returned

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16 FORTY YEARS OP 'SPY'still limpingto lay the cool linen upon the heatedbrow of his dying master.

Thrilling with excitement and fear, it neveroccurred to me that the battle, the wounds, and thedeaths following were anything but real ; but allmy grief did not prevent me from enjoying betweenthe acts my never-to-be-forgotten first strawberry ice.

The Panopticon was another place of amusement,long forgotten, I suppose, except by the very few.The building, now changed and known as theAlhambra, was a place where music and dancingwere features of attraction. It was opened in 1852and bore the name of the Royal Panopticon of Scienceand Art. I believe it was financed by philanthropicpeople, but it failed. / remember it because in thecentre, where the stalls are now, rose a great fountainwith coloured lights playing upon it. There weresavages, too, and I shook hands with a Red Indian,with all his war paint gleaming, the scalp locks toawe me, and the feathers standing fiercely erect.He impressed me enormously, and in consequenceof my seeing the savages, I became nervously imagi-native. I had heard of burglars, and often reviewedin my mind my possible behaviour if I discoveredone under my bed, where I looked every night ina sort of fearsome expectation. Religion had beenearly instilled into me ; and, knowing the ultimatefate of wicked sinners, I resolved to tell him he wouldhave to go to hell if he harmed me, and was soconsoled with the idea that I went to sleep quitecontentedly. A burglar might have been ratherastonished had he heard such sentiments from myyoung lips.

In that strange " chancy " way in which remem-brances of odd bizarre happenings jostle irrelevantly

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THE COMET 17one against another, I recall another experience.Once I was going to a very juvenile party ; Iforget where, but I was ready and waiting for thenurse to finish dressing my sisters. Resplendent ina perfectly new suit of brown velvet, and full ofexpectation of pleasures to come, I was rather excitedand consequently restless. My nurse told me notto fidget. Casual reprimands had no effect. Grow-ing angry, she commanded me loudly and suddenlyto sit down, which I did . . . but in the bath ! . . .falling backwards with a splash and with my feetwaving in the air. My arrival at the party eventuallyin my old suit did not in any way interfere with myenjoyment.

About this time my mother visited Paris, andwe looked forward to the letters she wrote to us.One letter mentions the interesting but afterwardsill-fated Prince Imperial." I again saw," she wrote, " the little babyEmperor ; he is lovely and wore a large hat withblue feathers, I should like to paint him."

In 1857 the Thames was frozen over, and atEton an ox was roasted upon the ice. I rememberit well. Another time on the occasion of one of ourmany visits to Brighton, we saw the great comet,and a new brother arrived :all three very wonder-ful events to me.

The brilliance of the " star with a tail " arousedmy sister and me to leave our beds and open thewindow to gaze curiously upon this phenomenon.Simultaneously a carriage drove up to the door, andmy mother (who had just arrived from Slough)alighted, and after her the nurse with a baby in herarms. We were reprimanded severely for ourtemerity in being out of bed, but we could not

c

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18 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'return until we had had a glimpse of the new baby,who became one of the most beautiful childrenimaginable.In Brighton we visited some relations of myfather's, the Misses Smith, daughters of HoraceSmith, one of the authors of " The RejectedAddresses." Of the two sisters. Miss Tysie wasconsidered the most interesting, and although MissRosie was beautiful, her sister was considered theprincipal object of attraction by the innumerablepeople they knew. Everybody worth knowing inthe world of art and especially of literature came tosee the " Recamier " of Brighton ; Thackeray wascounted amongst her intimates, and we may possiblyknow her again in a character in one of his books.I remember being impressed with these ladies asthey were very kind to us. Miss Tysie died onlycomparatively recently.Two years later, I met a real hero, a general ofsix feet four inches, who seemed to me like a brilliantpersonage from the pages of a romantic drama.

General Sir John Hearsey, then just returned fromIndia, where he had taken a conspicuous part inquelling the Mutiny, came to stay with us at UptonPark with his wife, dazzling my wondering eyes withcuriosities and strange toys, embroideries, and queerthings such as I had never seen or heard of before.Their two children were in charge of a dark-eyedayah, whose native dress and beringed ears and nosecreated no little stir in sleepy Upton.

I could never have dreamt of a finer soldier thanthe General, and I shall never forget the awe I feltwhen he showed me the wounds all about his neck,caused by sabre-cuts, and so deep I could put myfingers in them. My father painted a splendid

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KENT VILLA 19portrait of him in native uniform and another ofthe beautiful Lady Hearsey in a gorgeous Indiandress of red and silver.Another friend of my childhood was the lateMr. Birch, the sculptor ; he was assisting my fatherat that time by modelling some of the groups forhis pictures, and he used to encourage me to try andmodel, both in wax and clay. Some thirty yearslater, we met at a public dinner, and I realised thethen famous sculptor and A.R.A. was none otherthan the Mr. Birch of my childhood.When I was quite a small boy, we left UptonPark and came to Kent Villa. The house (whichbecame afterwards the residence of Orchardson, thepainter), was built for my father, who went to liveat Kensington Park chiefly through Dr. Doran, agreat friend of his (of whom I have more to saylater on).

There were two big studios, one above the other,for my parents. The house, which was covered withcreepers, was large and roomy. It was approachedby a carriage drive, the iron gates to which werea special feature. There was a garden at the backwhere we used frequently to dine in a tent until thelong-legged spiders grew too numerous ; but we oftenreceived our friends there when the weather wassummery.

There was a ladies' school next door, and I recol-lect in later years my father's consternation when thegirls, getting to know by some means or other (Ithink by the back stairs), of the Prince of Wales'intended visit, formed a guard of honour at our gateto receive him, which caused annoyance to my fatherand natural surprise to His Royal Highness.My parents were very regular in their habits,

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20 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'for no matter how late the hour of retiring, theyalways began to work by nine. At four my fatherwould take a glass of sherry and a sandwich beforehe went his usual long walk with my mother to theWest End, and from there they wandered into theneighbourhood of Drury Lane, and lingered at theold curiosity shops. They were connoisseurs of oldfurniture and bought with discretion. As greatbelievers in exercise, this walk was a regular pastime ;on their return they dined about seven and oftenread to one another afterwards. My father's insati-able love of history and of the past led him to seekwith undying interest any new light upon oldevents.

J. H. Edge, K.C., in his novel, " The Quicksandsof Life," writes of my father : " The artist was thenand probably will be for aU time the head of hisschool. He was a big, burly, genial man, with a largemind, a larger heart, and a large brain. He was asplendid historian,with an unfailing memory, untiringenergy and industry, and at the same time, likeall true artists, men who appreciate shades of colourand shades of characterhighly strung and morbidlysensitive, but not to true criticism which he neverfeared." Highly religious and intensely con-scientious in every way and yet so very forgetfulthat his friends sometimes dubbed him the " CasualWard." Brilhant conversational powers combinedwith a strong sense of humour, made him a dehghtfulcompanion. His love of children was extraordinary.He never failed to visit our nursery twice a day,when we were tiny, and I have often seen him inlater years, when bending was not easy, on his kneesplaying games with the youngest children. Hisvoice was very penetrating, and they used to say

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MY FATHEE 21at Windsor that one might hear him from the begin-ning of the Long Walk to the Statue. In churchhe frequently disturbed other worshippers by loudlyrepeating (to himself, as he thought) the service frombeginning to end. I remember that on Sundayswhen the weather did not permit of our venturingto church, my father would read the service at homeout of a very old Prayer-book, and when he cameto the prayer for the safety of George IV., wechildren used to laugh before the time came, inexpectation of his customary mistake. His powersof mimicry were extraordinary ; I have seen himkeeping a party of friends helpless with laughterover his imitations of old-fashioned ballet-dancers.His burlesque of Taglioni was side-splitting, especiallyas he grew stouter. Although a painter. of historicalsubjects, he was extraordinarily fond of landscape,and among those of other places of interest thereare some charming sketches of Rome, which he madewhile studying there in the company of his friendGeorge Richmond, R.A. Among his drawings inthe library at Windsor Castle, which were purchasedafter his death, are some remarkably interestingstudies of many of the important people who satto him for the pictures of Royal ceremonies. Forthe studies of the Peeresses' robes in " The Investitureof Napoleon III. with the Order of the Garter," myfather was indebted to Lady Waterford (then Mistressof the Robes), whose detailed sketches were extra-ordinarily clever and very useful. This lady was a'remarkable artist, her colour and execution beingbrilliant, so much so that when she was com-plaining of her lack of training in art, Watts toldher no one who was an artist ever wished to see anyof her work different from what it was . . . and he

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22 FORTY YEAES OF 'SPY'meant it. My father had an equally high opinion ofher gift.

Perhaps the " South Sea Bubble " is one of themost widely known of my father's pictures. Re-moved from the National Gallery to the Tate notvery long ago, this splendid example of a painter-historian's talent remains as fresh as the day it waspainted, and its undoubted worth, although unrecog-nised by a section of intolerant modernists, will, Ithink, stand the test of time.

I recollect many well-known people who came toour house in those days ; some, of course, I knewintimately, and amongst those, Marcus Stone andVicat Cole, who calling together one evening, wereannounced by the servant as " The Marquis Stoneand Viscount Cole."

Gambert, the great art dealer, afterwards consulat Nice, is always connected in my mind with theCrystal Palace, where he invited my parents to adinnerrparty in the saloon, and we were told towait outside. My sister and I walked about, quiteengrossed with sight-seeing. The evening drew onand the people left, the stall-holders packed uptheir goods and departed, while we sat on one of theseats and huddled ourselves in a corner. As thedusk grew deeper we thought of the tragic fate ofthe " Babes in the Wood." Up above, the greatroof loomed mysteriously, and as fear grew intoterror, we resolved as a last resort to pray. Ourprayer ended, a staU-keeper, interested, no doubt,came to the rescue, and on hearing our story, stayedwith us until our parents came.We loved the Crystal Palace none the less forour misadventure, and the happiest day of the year,to me at least, was my mother's birthday, on the

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My jii '/',, ,\- reptvsenteif 7viih Miil.ti- onthe left hand top o/the car!oi.^>i.i86^.

i:\rii OK Tur lONtio i fH\Rrt'\r:i

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CARTOONS FROM " PC-NCH."1865.

My mother is represtuit.i i>i the centre ofthe trio 0/ jepresen/ntn-e /ad\ pauirc \ atthe /oTi-er left haxd cohirr

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THE REV. J. M. BELLEW 23first of June, when we annually hired a privateomnibus, packed a delicious lunch, and drove tothe Palace, where we visited our favourite amuse-ments, or rambled in the spacious grounds. SimsReeves, Carlotta Patti, Grisi, Adelina Patti, sangthere to distinguished audiences. Blondin astonishedus with remarkable feats, and Stead, the " PerfectCure," aroused our laughter with his eccentricdancing. A great source of attraction to me werethe life-like models of fierce-looking African tribes,standing spear and shield in hand, in the doorwaysof their kralls. A pictorial description of how theVictoria Cross was won was another fascination,for in those days I had all the small boy's love ofbattle. When we were at home I loved to go toRegent's Park to see the panorama of the earth-quake at Lisbon, and I would gaze enthralled at thescene, which was as actual to me as the " Battle ofPrague," a piece played by our governess upon thepiano, a descriptive affair full of musical fireworks,the thundering of cavalry and the rattle of shots.On Sundays we were accustomed to walk to St.Mark's, St. John's Wood, to hear the Rev. J. M.BeUew, whose sermons to children were famous.We had to walk, I remember, a considerable distanceto the church. I can't recall ever being bored byhim. He was a very remarkable man, and hismanner took enormously with children ; he hada magnificent head and silvery curls, which made apicturesque frame to his face, and offered an effectivecontrast to his grey eyes. This, combined with avery powerful sweep of chin, an expressive mouth,wide as orators' mouths usually are, and an attractivevoice, made him a very fascinating personality. Hetaught elocution to Fechter, the great actor, and

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24 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'afterwards^when he had retired from the ProtestantChurch and become a Roman Catholic^he gavesuperb readings of Shakespeare. At all thesereadings," as at his sermons, an old lady, whoseinfatuation for Bellew was well known, was alwaysa conspicuous member of the audience ; for no matterwhat part of the country he was to be heard, shewould appear in a front seat with a wreath of whiteroses upon her head. Bellew never becameacquainted with her beyond acknowledging herpresence by raising his hat.

I used to take Latin lessons with Evelyn andHarold Bellew (afterwards known as Kyrle Bellew,the actor). Sometimes I stayed with them atRiverside House at Maidenhead where their father,being very fond of children, frequently gave parties,and I remember his entertaining us. Here Mr.Bellew nearly blew ofE his arm in letting off fire-works from the island. In those days there were fewtrees on this island, and it was an ideal place for adisplay, though this affair nearly ended disastrously.

The advantage of " archseological research " wasvery early impressed upon me by my father, and Iwas taken to see all that was interesting and instruc-tive. We used to go for walks together, and as wewent he would tell me histories of the buildings wepassed, and on my return journey I was supposed toremember and repeat all he had said.

" Come now," he would say, pausing in Whitehall." What happened there ? "" Oher " I would reply nervously." Oliver Cromwell had his head cut offand said,' Remember ' ! "

I used to dread these walks together, much as Iloved him, and I was so nervous I never ceased to

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SALT HILL 25answer unsatisfactorily ; so my father, over-lookingthe possibility of my lack of interest in his observa-tions, and the fact that life was a spectacle to me,for what I saw interested me far more than what Iheard, decided I needed the rousing influence ofschool life, and after a little preparation, sent meto Chase's School at Salt Hill.

Salt Hill was so called from the ceremony ofcollecting salt in very ancient days by monks asa toll; and in later times by the Eton boys, whocollected not " salt "but money, to form a pursefor the captain of the school on commencing hisUniversity studies at King's CoUege, Cambridge.Soon after sunrise on the morning of " Montem," asit was called, the Eton boys, dressed in a varietyof quaint or amusing costumes, started from thecollege to extort contributions from aU they cameacross. " They roved as far as Staines Bridge,Hounslow, and Maidenhead, and when ' salt ' ormoney had been collected, the contributors wouldbe presented with a ticket inscribed with the words,' Nos pro lege,' which he would fix in his hat, or insome conspicuous part of his dress, and thus secureexemption from all future calls upon his good natureand his purse."

" Montem " is now a matter of history, and wasdiscontinued in 1846, when the Queen turned a deafear to her " faithful subjects' " petition for itssurvival.

Amongst my school friends at Salt Hill, Went-worth Hope-Johnstone stands out as an attractivefigure, as does that of Mark Wood (now ColonelLockwood, M.P.). The former became in later lifeone of the first gentlemen riders of the day. Atschool he was always upon a horse if he could get

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26 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'one, and he would arrange plays and battle piecesin which we, his schoolfellows, were relegated to theinferior position of the army, while he was aide-de-camp, or figured as the equestrian hero performingmarvellous feats of horsemanship. He became asteeple-chase rider, and coming to my studio manyyears after, I remember him telling me with thegreatest satisfaction that he had never yet had anaccidentominously enough, for within the week hefell from his horse and sustained severe injuries.

I did not stay long at my school at Salt Hill, forthe school was broken up owing to the ill-health ofthe principal. My preparation thus coming to anend rather too soon, I was sent to Eton much earlierthan I otherwise should have been, and my pleasantchildhood days began to merge into the wider sphereof a big school and all its unknown possibilities.

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CHAPTER IIETON AND AFTER

Eton days.Windsor Pair.My Dame.Fights and Fun.BoveneyCourt.Mr. Hall Say.^Boveney.Professor and Mrs. Attwell.I win a useful prize.^Alban Doran.-^My father's frescoes.BattleAbbey.Gainsborough's Tomb.^Eoiole.Our burglar.Claude Cal-throp.Clayton Calthrop.The Gardener as Critic.The Gipsy 'withan eye for colour.I attempt sculpture.The Terry family.^PrivateTheatricals.Sir John Hare.^Miss Marion Terry.^Miss Ellen Terry.^Miss Kate Terry.^Miss Bateman.^Miss Florence St. John.Constable.Sir Howard Vincent.^I dance with Patti.LancasterGate and Meringues.^Prayers and Pantries.

I HAVE the liveliest recollection of my first day atEton, wlien I was accompanied by my mother, whowished to see me safely installed. In her anxietyto make my room comfortable (it was afterwards,by the way, Lord Randolph Churchill's room), shebought small framed and coloured prints of sacredsubjects to hang upon the walls, to give it, asshe thought, a more homely aspect. These werevery soon replaced, on the advice of Tuck, my fag-master (and wicket-keeper in the eleven), by race-horses and bulldogs by Herring.

Next I remember my youthful digestion beingput to test by a big boy who " stood me," againstmy will, " bumpers " of shandy-gafE ; and for myfirst smoke a cheroot of no choice blend, theinevitable results succeeding.

Shortly afterwards I was initiated into themysteries of school life ; I had to coUect cockroachesto let loose during prayers ; and of course the usual

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28 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'fate of a new boy befell me. I was asked the oldformula : or something to this effect

" Who's your tutor, who's your dame !Where do you board, and what's your name ? "

If your reply did not give satisfaction, you werepromptly " bonneted," and, in Eton phraseology,your new " topper " telescoped over your nose.

I was at first made the victim of a great deal ofunpleasant " ragging " by a bully, who on oneoccasion playing a game he called " Running Deer ! "made me a target for needle darts, one of whichlodged tightly in the bone just above my eye ; buthe was caught in the act by Tuck, who punished theoffender by making him hold a pot of boiling teaat arm's length, and each time a drop was spilled,my champion took a running kick at him.

I learned a variety of useful things. Besidescatching cockroaches, I became an adept in the artof cooking sausages without bursting their skinsif I forgot to prick them before cooking, I wasseverely reprimanded by my fag-master, and I con-sidered his anger perfectly justifiable ; my resent-ment only existing where unjustifiable bullying wasconcerned.

Windsor Fair was an attraction in those days,especially for the small boys, as it was " out ofbounds," and therefore forbidden. I remember oncebeing " told off " to go to the fair and bring as manymusical and noisy toys as I could carry ; which wereto be instrumental in a plot against our " dame ". . . (the Reverend Dr. Frewer) . . . On the greatoccasion, the boys secreted themselves in their lock-up beds. The rest hid in the housemaid's cupboard,and we started a series of hideous discords upon the

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ETON CUSTOMS 29whistles and mouth organs from the fair. Presentlyour " dame " appeared, roused by the concert, andat the door received the water from the " boobytrap " all over his head, and then, drenched to theskin and looking like a drowned rat, he proceededto rout us. We were all innocence with a carefullyconcocted excuse to the effect that the receptionhad been intended for Anderson, one of the boys inthe house. Notwithstanding that expulsion wasthreatening us, we were all called to his room nextmorning, severely reprimanded, but . . . forgiven.

Old Etonians will remember Jobie, who soldbuns and jam ; and Levy, who tried to cheat usover our " tuck," and was held under the collegepump in consequence ; and old SiUy-Billy, who usedto curse the Pope, and, considering himself the headof the Church, was always first in the Chapel atEton. Then there was the very fat old lady whosold fruit under the archway, and had a face likean apple herself. She sold an apple called a lemon-pippin, that was quite unlike anything I have tastedsince, and looked like a lemon.

At " Sixpenny " the mills took place, and theredifferences were settled, A " Shinning-match,"which was only resorted to by small boys, was amost serious and carefully managed affair ; weshook hands in real duel fashion, and then we pro-ceeded to exchange kicks on one another's shinsuntil one of us gave in,I remember having a " shinning-match " tosettle some dispute with one of my greatest friends,but we were discovered, taken into Hawtrey's dur-ing dinner, and there talked to in serious manner.Our wise lecturer ended his speech with the time-honoured, " 'Tis dogs delight to bark and bite," etc.

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30 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'In 1861 1 recollect very well tlie Queen and Prince

Consort reviewing the Eton College Volunteer Corpsin the grounds immediately surrounding the Castle,while we boys were permitted to look on from theTerrace.

At the conclusion of the review the volunteerswere given luncheon in the orangery, where theywere right royally entertained.

Prince Albert, whom I had noticed coughing, re-tired after the review into the castle, while the Queenand Princess Alice walked together on the slopes.

This was the last time that Prince Albert appearedin public, for he was shortly after seized with anillness from which he never recovered.From Eton I frequently had " leave " to visitsome friends of my parents, the Evans, of BoveneyCourt, a delightful old country house opposite SurlyHall. Miss Evans married a Mr. Hall-Say, whobuilt Oakley Court, and I was present when he laidthe foundation stone.

Mr. Evans, who was a perfectly delightful oldman, lent one of his meadows at Boveney (oppositeSurly Hall) to the Eton boys for their Fourth ofJune celebrations. Long tables were spread forthem, with every imaginable good thing, includingchampagne, some bottles of Which those in theboats used to secrete for their fags ; and in my daysmall boys would come reeling home, unable toevade the masters, and the next day the " block "was well occupied, and the " swish " busy.

There were certain unwritten laws in those daysas regards flogging ; a master was not supposed togive downward strokes, for thus I believe one deals amore powerful sweep of arm and the stroke becomestorture. In cricket, also, round arm bowling was

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WINDOW-SMASHING 31always the rule ; a ball was " no ball " unless bowledon a level with the shoulder, but lob-bowling was,of course, allowed. Nowadays, the bowling haschanged. Perhaps the character of the " swishing "has also altered, but somehow I think the boys arejust the same.On the occasion of my first holiday, I arrivedhome from Eton a different boy ; imbued with thetraditions of my school, I was full of an exaggeratedpartisanship for everything good or indifferent thatexisted there. I remember I discovered my sistersin all the glory of Leghorn hats from Paris ; they werelarge with flopping brims as was then the fashion.But to my youthful vision they seemed outrageous,and I refused to go out with the girls in these hats,which I considered, with a small boy's pride in hisschool, were a disgrace to me . . . and consequentlyto Eton !My regard for the honour and glory of this time-honoured institution did not prevent me saUyingforth on several occasions with a school friend toanticipate the Suffragettes by breaking windowsalthough I was not the proposer of this scheme, Iwas an accessory to the act, and my friend (whoseemed to have an obsessive love of breaking forits own sake) and I successfully smashed severalold (but worthless) windows, both of the EtonParish Church and also Boveney Church. AlthoughI have made this confession of guilt, I feel safe againstthe law both of the school and theLondon magistrates.

In most respects I was the average schoolboy,neither very good, or very bad. Running, jumping,and football I was pretty " nippy " at, until asevere strain prevented (under doctor's orders) thepursuance of any violent exercises for some time.

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32 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'Previous to this I had won a special prize for my

prowess in certain sports when I arrived second inevery event. I won a telescope, which seemed ameaningless sort of thing until I went home for theholidays, when I gave an experimental quiz throughit from my bedroom window and discovered theinfinite possibilities of the girls' school next door.Finally I was noticed by a portly old mistress whocomplained of my telescopic attentions, never dream-ing, from what I could gather, of my undividedinterest in other quarters, and my prize was con-fiscated by my father.

During my enforced rest from all exercise of anyimportance, I spent my time in compiling a bookof autographs and in sketching anything I fancied.My aptitude and love for drawing were not encouragedat school at the request of my father, but I wasalways caricaturing the masters, and having theresult confiscated. It was inevitable, living as Idid in an atmosphere of art, loving the profession,and sitting to my parents, that I should grow moreand more interested and more determined to becomea painter myself, although strangely enough I neverhad a lesson from either my father or mother.

The boy is indeed the father of the man, for justas I anticipated my future by becoming the schoolcaricaturist, so Alban Doran, one of my school-fellows (and the son of my father's friend, Dr. Doran),spent the time usually occupied by the averageschoolboy in play or sport, in searching for animal-culse or bottling strange insects, the result of histedious discoveries, I believe he kept an aquariumeven in his nursery, and was more interested mmicroscopes than cricket. The clever boy became abrilliant man, distinguishing himself at " Bart's,"

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HOLIDAYS 33was joint compiler with Sir James Paget and Dr.Goodhart of the current edition of the Cataloguesof the Pathological series in the Museum of theCollege of Surgeons. His success as a surgeon anda woman's specialist was all the more wonderful,when we remember his nervous shaking hands,which might have been expected to render his touchuncertain ; but when an operation demands hisskill the nervousness vanishes, and his hand steadies.He is noted for a remarkable collection of the ear-bones from everj'' type of living creature in thiscountry, and especially for his literary contributionsto the study of surgery.When I was at home on my holidays I spent agreat deal of my time in a temporary studio erectedon the terrace of the House of Lords. Here Iwatched my father paint his frescoes for the Housesof Parliament. Fresco painting would not endurethe humidity of our climate, and several of thesehistorical paintings which hung in the corridor ofthe House of Commons began to mildew. Otherimportant frescoes were completely destroyed bythe damp ; but my father restored his works, andthey were placed under glass, which preservedthem. With his last two or three frescoes headopted a then new process called " water-glass,"which was a decided success.

Another holiday was spent at Hastings, wheremy father occupied much of his time restoringfrescoes which he discovered, half-obliterated, inthe old Parish Church at Battle. He intendedeventually to complete his task ; but on his returnto London he found that the great pressure of workand engagements rendered this impossible. Thedean of the parish wTote in consequence to say that

D

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34 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'the restorations looked so patchy that it would bebetter to whitewash them over !

The Archaeological Society met that year atHastings, and my father, who intended to prepareme for an architectural career, thought it wouldencourage me if we attended their meetings, at whichPlanche, the President, presided. We visited allthe places of interest near, and I heard many edify-ing discourses upon their histories, while I watchedthe members, who were rather antiquities them-selves, and thoroughly enjoyed the many excellentluncheons spread for us at our various haltingplaces.A propos of restoration, my father visited KewChurch in 1865, and found in the churchyard Gains-borough's tomb, which was in a deplorable state ofneglect. Near to Gainsborough are buried ZofEany,*R.A., Jeremiah Meyer, R.A., miniature painter andenameUist (the former's great friend), and JoshuaKirby, F.S.A., also a contemporary. My father atonce took steps to have the tomb restored at hisown expense, and as the result of his inqtiiries andefforts in that direction, received the following letterwhich is interesting in its quaint diction as well asin reference to the subject.

Petersham, Surrey,August 24th, 1865.My dear Sm,

It is with much pleasure that I learnthat one great man is intending to do Honor to theMemory of another. In reply to your note, I begthat you will consider that my Rights, as the Holderof the Freehold, are to be subservient by all means

* Spelt Zoffanj on l^ia tombstone.

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THOMAS GAINSBOROUGH ESQ-DIED AUG" THE a,-.- 17S8AGED ei YE AR.SALSOTHE BODY OFGainsborough DUPONx ESQ"WHODIEDJAN" 20'" 1737AGED 42 VEARSALSOM MARGARET GAINSBOROUGHVV'IFE OFTHEABOVETHOMAS GAINSBOROUGH ESQ"WHODIED DEC"."THE17"l79eIN THE 72--' YEARQF HEFt AG ERESTORED AND ENCLOSEDAS ATRIBUTE OF RESP'E:CTBY E. - M . WA.R.D . R. ASEPTE MBER )B65

GAIN'SBOROUl'rH S TOMK AT KEW CHURCHYARD AND TABl.KT TOHIS MEMORY INSIDE CHURCH.

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GAINSBOKOUGH'S TOMB 35to the laudable object of paying our Honor to theMemory of the great Gainsborough.

I am,My dear Sir,Yours very truly,

R. B. Byam, Esq.Vicar of Kew.

To J. RlOBY, Esq., Kew.

To this capital letter my father replied :Kent ViUa.Dear and Reverend Sir,

I cannot refrain from expressing to youmy warm thanks for the very kind and disinterestedmanner in which you have been pleased to entertainmy humble idea in regard to the restoration of Gains-borough's tomb, and the erection of a tablet to hismemory in the church, the duties of which you soably fulfil, nor can I but wholly appreciate your verykind but far too flattering reference to myself inyour letter to our friend Mr. Rigby which comingfrom such a source is I assure you most truly valued.

Your most obedient and obliged Servant,E. M. Ward.

The tomb was restored, a new railing placedaround it, and a tablet to the artist's memory wasalso placed by my father inside the church.

Some very pleasant memories are connected withenjoyable summers spent at Sevenoaks, where myfather took a house for two years, close to the sevenoaks from which the neighbourhood takes its name.Particularly I remember the amusing incident ofthe burglar. I was awakened from midnightslumbers by my sister knocking at the door and

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36 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'calling in a melodramatic voice " Awake ! . . .awake ! . . . There is a burglar in our room." Ipromptly rushed to her bedroom, where I found myother sister crouching under the bedclothes inspeechless terror. Having satisfied myself as tothe utter absence of a burglar in that particularroom, I started to search the house^but by thistime the whole household was thoroughly roused;the various members appeared with candles, andtogether we ransacked the establishment from garretto cellar. In the excitement of the moment wehad not had time to consider our appearancesand the procession was ludicrous in the extreme.My grandfather (in the absence of my father) camefirst in dressing-gown, a candle in one hand and astick in the other. My mother came next (in curlpapers), and then my eldest sister. It was the dayof chignons, when everybody, without exception,wore their hair in that particular style. On thisoccasion my sister's head was conspicuous by itsquaint little hastily bundled up knot. I wore anight-shirt only ; but my other sister, who was of atheatrical turn of mind (she who had awakened me),had taken the most trouble, for she wore stockingswhich, owing to some oversight in the way of garters,were coming down.

After satisfying ourselves about the burglar^whowas conspicuous by his absencewe adjourned to ourrespective rooms, while I went back to see the sisterupon whom fright had had such paralyzing effects.There I heard an ominous rattle in the chimney." Flora ! " said my stage-struck sister, in tremb-ling tones, with one hand raised (a la Lady Macbeth)and the poor girl under the clothes cowered deeperand deeper.

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KNOLE HOUSE 37Two seconds later a large brick rattled down and

subsided noisily into the fireplace." That is the end of the burglar," said I, and theterrified figure emerged from the bed, brave and

reassured. Retiring to my room I recollected theprocession, and having made a mental note of theaffair went back to bed. Early the next morningI arose and made a complete caricature of theincident of the burglar, which set our family (andfriends next day) roaring with laughter when theysaw it.

In those days we used to sketch at Knole House,then in the possession of Lord and Lady Delaware.My mother made some very beautiful little picturesof the interiors there, and several smaller studies.She copied a Teniers so perfectly that one could havemistaken it for the original. The painting wassupposed to represent " Peter and the Angels in theGuard Room," and the guards were very con-spicuous. On the other hand, as one only discovereda little angel with Peter in the distance, one couldalmost suppose Teniers had forgotten them untilthe last minute, and then had finally decided torelegate them to the background. This picture (theoriginal) was sold at Christie's during a sale fromKnole several years ago.

Of course the old house was the happy huntingground of artists ; the pictures were mostly finealthough some of them were at one time in the handsof a cleaner, by whom they were very much over-restored. A clever artist (and a frequenter of Knoleat that time for the purpose of making a series ofstudies) was Claude Calthrop (brother of ClaytonCalthrop the actor and father of the present artistand writer Dion Clayton Calthrop). I was then just

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38 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'beginning to be encouraged to make architecturaldrawings, and I was making a sketch of the exteriorof Knole House when one of the under gardenerscame ambHng by wheeUng a barrow. He paused. . . put down the barrow, took ofE his cap . . .scratched his head and said to me, " Er . . . whywaaste yer toime loike that . . . why not taake andworrk loike Oi dew ! "

Another time when I was sketching in thatneighbourhood, in rather a lonely part, I fell inwith a gipsy encampment. One of the tribe, a roughspecimen, of whom I did not at all like the look,was most persistently attentive. He asked a multi-tude of questions, about my brushes, paints, andmaterials generallyand seemed anxious as to theirmonetary value. As he did not appear to be aboutto cut my throatand I felt sure he harboured nomurderous intentions towards my paintingI beganto feel more at ease, and when no comments afterthe style of my critic, the gardener, were forth-coming, it struck me that perhaps I had a vagrantbut fellow beauty-lover in my gipsy sentinel. Iwish now that I had even suggested (in view of hisevident love of colour) his changing his rovingcareer for one in which he could indulge his love ofred to the utmost and more or less harmlessly.When I was about sixteen I turned my attentionto modelling, and in the vacation I started a bust ofmy young brother Russell. I spent all my morningsworking hard and at length finished it. On thelast day of my holiday I went to have a final glanceat my work and found the whole thing had collapsedinto a shapeless mass of clay. With the exceptionof watching sculptors work I had no technical know-ledge to help me ; but, not to be discouraged, I

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A BUST AT THE R.A. 39waited eagerly for the term to end, so that I mightreturn to my modelling. When the time came, andmy holidays began, I at once set to work again, takingthe precaution to have the clay properly supportedthis time. Allowing no one to help me, I workedaway strenuously, for I was determined it shouldbe entirely my own. My bust was finished intime to send in to the Royal Academy, where itwas accepted. I had favourable notices in theTimes and other papers, which astonished and en-couraged me, and I went back to school tremen-dously elated at my success.Tom Taylor, then art critic of the Times, wroteto my mother, saying :

Dear Mrs. Ward,... I must tell you how much Leslie's

bust of Wrio was admired by our guests last nightparticularly by Professor Owen. . . .

Later I started another bust of Kate Terry, butI was never pleased with it, as it did not do mydistinguished sitter justice, and I resolved not tosend it to an exhibition,

I did not follow up my first success in the pathsof sculpture, for I still suffered slightly from mystrain, and I came to the conclusion that it wouldprove too great a tax on my strength at that timeif I took up this profession.

The stage claimed a great part of my attentionabout this time, and I became an inveterate " first-nighter " in my holidays. From the pit (for, excepton rare occasions, I could not afford a more expen-sive seat), or when lucky enough to have placesgiven me, I saw nearly all the popular plays of the

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40 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'day ; and when Tom Taylor introduced my parentsto the Terry family, I became more interested thanever, owing to the greater attraction of personalinterest. I grew ambitious and acted myself,arranged the plays, painted the scenery, borrowingthe beautiful costumes from my father's extensivehistorical wardrobe.

The first time I appeared before a large audiencewas at the Bijou Theatre, Bayswater, which wastaken by a good amateur company called " TheShooting Stars," composed chiefly of CambridgeUndergraduates. We arranged two plays, and theacting of the present Judge Selfe was especiallygood, also that of Mr. F. M. AUeyne.One night, when I came down from my dressing-room, made up in character to go on the impromptustage,I complimented an old carpenter of ours,waitingin the wings, upon the clever way in which he hadarranged the stage and the scenery.

" Oh yes, sir," he replied, very modestly, thinkingI was a stranger, " / didn't paint the scenery, Mr.Leslie did that ! "

In some theatricals at the Friths' house, whenJohn Hare coached us, I took the part of an oldbutler. On my way to Pembridge Villas, attiredready for the stage, I remembered I needed somesticking plaster to obliterate one of my teeth ; soleaving the cab at a corner, I entered a chemist'sshop, where I was amused, because the assistantput me on one side rather rudely for other customerswho came later, and after attending to them,addressed me roughly with a, " Now, what do youwant ? " His rudeness was an unconscious tributeto my effective disguise, and his manners alteredconsiderably when I disillusioned him.

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THE TEREYS 41At one time Miss Marion Terry, who was then

about to go on the stage, after witnessing my actingin a play of Byron's, suggested in fun and railleryat my enthusiasm that we should make our debuttogether. Owing to her excessive sensibility andhighly strung temperament, rehearsals were verytrying to her at first, and for this reason her eventualsuccess was in doubt. When one has seen her per-form her many successful parts with such exquisitetalent and pathos, one feels glad to realize that shefinally overcame her nervousness, and that her giftof acting was not lost to the public.

I knew the Terrys very well then, and I was inlove with them all ; in fact, I do not know withwhich of them I was most in love.

Ellen Terry sat to my father for his picture of" Juliet," and Kate Terry for " Beatrice " in MuchAdo. I remember too that when Ellen made herreappearance in the theatre, my mother lent ourgreat actress a beautiful gold scarf, to wear in thatpart in which she fascinated us on the stage as fuUyas she did in private life. Among my cherishedletters I find the following notes written to me atschool, after her marriage to G. F. Watts.

1866.My DEAR Leslie,I am extremely obliged to you for your

sketch and I'm sorry Alice [my sister] should be" riled " that I wanted a character of her, as thepeople down here call caricatures. Please give mylove to her and to her Mama and to all the rest atKent ViUawhen you write. Mrs. Carr and Mr.Carr (my kind hostess and host) think the caricatureis a capital one of me /

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42 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'Polly [Miss Marion Terry] sends her love, and

is awfully jealous that / should have sketches doneby you and she not ! !With kindest regards and best thanks, believeme, dear Leslie,

Sincerely yours,Ellen Watts.

Dear Leslie,I fulfil my promise by sending you the

photo of my sister Kate, that you said you likedI ihink it's the same. I hope you'll excuse it beingso soiled, but it's the only one I havethe fact is, theBaby [her brother Fred] seized it, as it lay uponthe table waiting to be put into a cover, and hasnearly bitten it to pieces.

I came up from Bradford, in Yorkshire, onMonday last, where I had spent a week with Papaand Polly, and I can't tell you, Leslie, how cold itwas. I intend going to Kent Villa, as soon aspossible. I've promised Alice a song of Mrs. TomTaylor's and have not sent it to her yet, " Betterlate than never," tho' I really have been busy.

With my best regards.Sincerely yours,Nelly Watts.

Those were delightful days spent with delightfulcompanions. Lewis Carroll was sometimes a memberof the pleasant coterie which met at our house inthose days. My sister Beatrice was one of hisgreatest child friends, and although he always sent hisMSS. for her to read, he dishked any mention ofhis fame as an author, and would abruptly leave thepresence of any one who spoke about his books.

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MRS. CAMERON 43The public at that time were in complete ignoranceof the real identity of Lewis Carroll. Later in life,when I wished to make a cartoon of Mr. Dodgsonfor Vanity Fair, he implored me not to put himin any paper. Naturally, I was obliged to consent,but Vanity Fair extorted some work from hispen as a compromise. He was a clever amateurphotographer, and in my mother's albums there arephotographs taken by him of several members ofthe Terry family, together with some of us.

Mrs. Cameron was famous in those days as anamateur photographer, and she took photographs ofall the leading people of the day. Watts and Tenny-son were among her intimates, and most celebritiesof the day knew her by sight. She was a verylittle old ladyI remember being in a shop (wheresome of her photographs were on view) with myyoung brother, who was a beautiful boy, when Mrs.Cameron entered. She caught sight of Russell, andcould not take her eyes from his face. At last shesaid, " I want to know who the little boy is withyou," and seemed very interested. I told her whowe were, whereupon she asked if I thought myparents would allow him to sit to her. Of coursethey were delighted.

In 1867 Kate Terry resolved at the height of herfame to marry Mr. Arthur Lewis (of whom I havemore to say later), and to retire from the stage,apparently quite content to leave her glories. Thenthe most famous of the Terry sisters, Kate receivedan ovation worthy of her. The Times, in a longarticle, said : " It is seldom that the theatrechronicles have to describe a scene like that at theNew Adelphi on Saturday, when Miss Kate Terry

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44 FORTY YEARS OF 'SPY'took her farewell of the Stage as Juliet. . . . Againand again Miss Terry was recalled, and again sheappeared to receive the long an