Merimee's cynicism rather alarmed one. He was a capital
caricaturist, though, to our astonishment, he assured us he
had never drawn, or used a colour-box, till late in life. He
had now learnt to use it, in a way that did not invariably
give satisfaction. Landseer always struck me as sensitive
and proud, a Diogenes-tempered individual who had been spoilt
by the toadyism of great people. He was agreeable if made
much of, or almost equally so if others were made little of.
But of all those named, surely John Lawrence was the
greatest. I wish I had read his life before it ended. Yet,
without knowing anything more of him than that he was Chief
Commissioner of the Punjab, which did not convey much to my
understanding, one felt the greatness of the man beneath his
calm simplicity. One day the party went out for a deer-
drive; I was instructed to place Sir John in the pass below
mine. To my disquietude he wore a black overcoat. I assured
him that not a stag would come within a mile of us, unless he
covered himself with a grey plaid, or hid behind a large rock
there was, where I assured him he would see nothing.
'Have the deer to pass me before they go on to you?' he
asked.
'Certainly they have,' said I; 'I shall be up there above
you.'
'Well then,' was his answer, 'I'll get behind the rock - it
will be more snug out of the wind.'
One might as well have asked the deer not to see him, as try
to persuade John Lawrence not to sacrifice himself for
others. That he did so here was certain, for the deer came
within fifty yards of him, but he never fired a shot.
Another of the Indian viceroys was the innocent occasion of
great discomfort to me, or rather his wife was. Lady Elgin
had left behind her a valuable diamond necklace. I was going
back to my private tutor at Ely a few days after, and the
necklace was entrusted to me to deliver to its owner on my
way through London. There was no railway then further north
than Darlington, except that between Edinburgh and Glasgow.
When I reached Edinburgh by coach from Inverness, my
portmanteau was not to be found. The necklace was in a
despatch-box in my portmanteau; and by an unlucky oversight,
I had put my purse into my despatch-box. What was to be
done? I was a lad of seventeen, in a town where I did not
know a soul, with seven or eight shillings at most in my
pocket. I had to break my journey and to stop where I was
till I could get news of the necklace; this alone was clear
to me, for the necklace was the one thing I cared for.
