And on the following day, after taking a great deal of
trouble, he recovered my lost luggage and the priceless
treasure it contained. It was a proud and happy moment when
I returned his loan, and convinced him, of what he did not
seem to doubt, that I was positively not a swindler.
But the roofless night and the empty belly, consequent on an
empty pocket, was a lesson which I trust was not thrown away
upon me. It did not occur to me to do so, but I certainly
might have picked a pocket, if - well, if I had been brought
up to it. Honesty, as I have often thought since, is dirt
cheap if only one can afford it.
Before departing from my beloved Glenquoich, I must pay a
passing tribute to the remarkable qualities of Mrs. Edward
Ellice and of her youngest sister Mrs. Robert Ellice, the
mother of the present member for St. Andrews. It was, in a
great measure, the bright intelligence, the rare tact, and
social gifts of these two ladies that made this beautiful
Highland resort so attractive to all comers.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE winter of 1854-55 I spent in Rome. Here I made the
acquaintance of Leighton, then six-and-twenty. I saw a good
deal of him, as I lived almost entirely amongst the artists,
taking lessons myself in water colours of Leitch. Music also
brought us into contact. He had a beautiful voice, and used
to sing a good deal with Mrs. Sartoris - Adelaide Kemble -
whom he greatly admired, and whose portrait is painted under
a monk's cowl, in the Cimabue procession.
Calling on him one morning, I found him on his knees
buttering and rolling up this great picture, preparatory to
sending it to the Academy. I made some remark about its
unusual size, saying with a sceptical smile, 'It will take up
a lot of room.'
'If they ever hang it,' he replied; 'but there's not much
chance of that.'
Seeing that his reputation was yet to win, it certainly
seemed a bold venture to make so large a demand for space to
begin with. He did not appear the least sanguine. But it
was accepted; and Prince Albert bought it before the
Exhibition opened.
Gibson also I saw much of. He had executed a large alto-
rilievo monument of my mother, which is now in my parish
church, and the model of which is on the landing of one of
the staircases of the National Gallery. His studio was
always an interesting lounge, for he was ever ready to
lecture upon antique marbles. To listen to him was like
reading the 'Laocoon,' which he evidently had at his fingers'
ends.
