OUR FRIENDSHIP 75
he came to definite conclusions. When he did not—and
his wisdom often held him back from doing so—he equally
satisfied one’s mind: it had been enriched, stirred with
living thought, delighted by the touch of true humour.
One’s horizon had been widened ; one breathed more freely ;
one lived more happily. And ten years ago all this went
from us in its prime. When burning the brightest,—the
light suddenly went out, and I have never ceased to feel that
things have been darker ever since. It is one of those losses
to which one cannot reconcile oneself. Every year his works
seem to be more read and more valued.”
When still a child I stayed with Madame Mohl in Paris
where she had a salon in the Quartier St. Germain, the last
of the best kind of salon.1 Here I would sit with Madame
Mohl and her niece in a corner ottoman in her drawing-
room, and listen with delight to the conversation of M.
Mohl and the dlite of French savants. I remember the
effect it produced on me even as a child. It was, as I recall
it, the perfection of the art of talking. From earliest child-
hood therefore I and my sisters heard talk of the best.
When my husband and I became the friends of Leighton
and Watts we had also the benefit of delightful conversa-
tion, and for the most part on the subject which had for me
the most vivid interest—art.
1 120 Rue du Bac was a centre for interesting people of all nationalities, but
the generation that knew it best has almost passed away—though to a few who,
like myself, knew it when a child, it recalls delightful memories which will remain
vividly interesting to the end. It carried out, though on French lines, which
included an excellent cuisine, our English principle of “plain living and high
thinking.” When Madame Mohl was eighty-eight years old she paid us a visit
of three weeks to Melbury House. Even Leighton threw down the barriers of
his fixed laws in order to receive her during his working hours. I remember
well the little scene that took place when she entered his studio : he gallantly fell
on one knee and kissed her hand. The little old lady, much pleased, exclaimed,
“ Ah ! ce joli petit Leighton, de la Rue Blanche ! ”