DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.3462#0019
8 THE DURBAR
judge intent on a game of chess, an empire-maker
talking about operas to a duchess, and the pro-
prietor of patent medicine talking in the smoking-
room of the difficulty the President of the United
States would find in running things without his aid.
It was an ideal atmosphere for the artist: all
were so considerate and sympathetic, so intelligent,
so strong in artistic instincts. They would come
up and ask you how your work was going on,
and if they could do anything for you; and
altogether they were extremely helpful. A long
line of people went down to the saloon every
day to be sketched by Mr. Reed. He began
very gently with only two or three sitters; but
gradually the line became longer and longer, until
there was a great stream of subjects every morning,
like sheep being led to the slaughter. You would
see Reed come up on deck, spot a man, go up to
him, and lead him away by the arm—first a judge,
and then a duke, and afterwards a soldier—and all
would go down, with quick, nervous steps, trying
to look unconscious, and as though they had
been in the habit of being sketched daily. They
evidently did not dislike it—in fact, "I think they
rather enjoyed it—but they were shy. It was
the fashion every afternoon for this sketch-book
judge intent on a game of chess, an empire-maker
talking about operas to a duchess, and the pro-
prietor of patent medicine talking in the smoking-
room of the difficulty the President of the United
States would find in running things without his aid.
It was an ideal atmosphere for the artist: all
were so considerate and sympathetic, so intelligent,
so strong in artistic instincts. They would come
up and ask you how your work was going on,
and if they could do anything for you; and
altogether they were extremely helpful. A long
line of people went down to the saloon every
day to be sketched by Mr. Reed. He began
very gently with only two or three sitters; but
gradually the line became longer and longer, until
there was a great stream of subjects every morning,
like sheep being led to the slaughter. You would
see Reed come up on deck, spot a man, go up to
him, and lead him away by the arm—first a judge,
and then a duke, and afterwards a soldier—and all
would go down, with quick, nervous steps, trying
to look unconscious, and as though they had
been in the habit of being sketched daily. They
evidently did not dislike it—in fact, "I think they
rather enjoyed it—but they were shy. It was
the fashion every afternoon for this sketch-book