Forty years of 'Spy' — Reading Notes

Anecdotes of the Studio and Stage

The excerpts reveal Ward's method of capturing likenesses through quick sketches made in social settings. One episode describes how, after watching George Grossmith chaff Corney Grain at the Beefsteak Club, Ward dashed off a caricature that later became a profitable print. The editor of Vanity Fair initially rejected the drawing, so Ward sold it privately to Rudolph Lehmann, eventually netting £250. This story illustrates Ward's entrepreneurial side and his reliance on personal connections rather than institutional approval.

Ward also recounts a speech he gave at a dinner, quoting Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing—a passage about a 'college of wit-crackers' that he found 'admirably apt' for his target. Such details show how Ward wove literary allusions into his public performances, reinforcing his identity as a gentleman artist rather than a mere satirist.

The Geography of a Caricaturist's London

Ward notes a curious pattern in his addresses: all his studios, clubs, and offices were located in streets named King, William, or King William. He lists six locations, including his studio in William Street, Lowndes Square, and the Vanity Fair offices in King William Street. This self-deprecating observation hints at a life lived within a tight circuit of London's clubland and publishing hubs.

The memoir also describes the physical spaces where caricatures were born: the Beefsteak Club, where members gathered by the fire and passed around sketches; and the earlier Vanity Fair premises above Toole's Theatre, demolished when Charing Cross Hospital expanded. These details ground Ward's work in the material world of Victorian London, where clubs and theatres were both subjects and settings for his art.

The Making of a 'Spy' Cartoon

Ward offers a rare step-by-step account of how a caricature moved from observation to publication. After the Beefsteak Club sketch, he 'sat up all night making a more careful drawing,' then elaborated it with colour. He had reproductions made by the Autotype Company, hand-coloured copies, and sold them to distinguished buyers including King Edward VII. The autograph book he kept lists these owners, turning the prints into collectible artefacts.

This process—private sale, limited edition, celebrity endorsement—contrasts with the regular Vanity Fair cartoons, which were mass-produced. Ward's narrative emphasizes the value of personal initiative: when the temporary editor refused the drawing, he found a more lucrative path. The episode also highlights the collaborative nature of Victorian celebrity culture, with Grossmith later writing about the portrait in his own memoirs.

Ward's memoir is less a comprehensive history of Vanity Fair than a collection of personal vignettes, often humorous and self-deprecating. Readers interested in the mechanics of Victorian caricature will find practical details about studio practice, reproduction, and the social networks that sustained the genre. The book rewards those who enjoy leisurely, name-dropping narratives rather than systematic analysis.