takes only one man to make an artist,
but forty to make an Academician."

Our next meeting was a few weeks later, when he brought me a replica of
his "_Joan of Arc_." I was anxious to buy the first and better version,
now in the possession of Mr Frederick Evans, but he refused to part with
it at the time. He seemed particularly proud of the drawing; it was the
only work of this period he would allow to have any merit.

In the early summer of 1892 he visited Burne-Jones and Watts, receiving
from the former artist cordial recognition and excellent advice which
proved invaluable to him. He attributed to the same great painter the
criticism that "he had learnt too much from the old masters and would
benefit by the training of an art school." A few days afterwards he
produced a most amusing caricature of himself being kicked down the
stairs of the National Gallery by Raphael, Titian, and Mantegna, whilst
Michael Angelo dealt a blow on his head with a hammer. This entertaining
little record, I am sorry to say, was destroyed. Beardsley was always
sensible about friendly and intelligent criticism. When he reached a
position enjoyed by no artist of his own age, he was swift to remedy
any defect pointed out to him by artists or even by ordinary friends.
I never met anyone so receptive on all subjects; he would record what
Mr Pennell or Puvis de Chavannes said in praise or blame of a particular
drawing with equal candour and good humour. This was only one of his
many amiable qualities. When he afterwards became a sort of household
word and his fame, or notoriety as his enemies called it, was
established, he never changed in this respect. He made friends and
remained friends with many for whom his art was totally unintelligible.
Social charm triumphed over all differences. He would speak with
enthusiasm about writers and artists quite out of sympathy with his
own aims and aspirations. He never assumed that those to whom he was
introduced either knew or admired his work. His character was brisk
and virile to an extraordinary degree. He made enemies, I believe,
by refusing to revolve in mutual admiration societies or to support
literary and artistic cliques. With the shadow of death always over
him and conscious of the brief time before him, he never gave himself
up to morbid despair or useless complaints. He determined to enjoy life,
and, equipped with all the curiosity and gaiety of boyhood, he caught
at life's exquisite moments.