I think it must have been on returning from the American station, or may be later in the career of my father's life, that a circumstance occurred which distressed him exceedingly. Highway robberies were common on all the roads in the vicinity of London, but no violence was offered. My father was travelling alone over Blackheath when the postilion was ordered to stop, a pistol presented at my father, and his purse demanded. My father at once recognised the voice as that of a shipmate, and exclaimed, "Good God! I know that voice! can it be young——? I am dreadfully shocked; I have a hundred pounds which shall be yours—come into the carriage, and let me take you to London, where you will be safe." ... "No, no," the young man said, "I have associates whom I cannot leave—it is too late." ... It was too late; he was arrested eventually and suffered. Years afterwards when by some accident my father mentioned this event, he was deeply affected, and never would tell the name of the young man who had been his mess-mate.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] M. Pellegrino Rossi, afterwards Minister of France at Rome, then Prime Minister to Pius the Ninth; murdered in 1848 on the steps of the Cancelleria, at Rome.
CHAPTER XIV.
ROME, NAPLES, AND COMO—BADEN—WINTER AT FLORENCE—SIENA—LETTER FROM LORD BROUGHAM—MR. MOUNTSTUART ELPHINSTONE—LIFE AT ROME—CAMPAGNA CATTLE.
My mother was already meditating writing a book upon Physical Geography, and had begun to collect materials for it, when my father's long and dangerous illness obliged her to lay it aside for a time. My father was ordered to a warmer climate for the winter, and as soon as he was able to travel we proceeded to Rome. We were hardly settled when my mother, with her usual energy, set to work diligently, and began this book, which was not published for some time later, as it required much thought and research. She never allowed anything to interfere with her morning's work; after that was over she was delighted to join in any plan which had been formed for the afternoon's amusement, and enjoyed herself thoroughly, whether in visiting antiquities and galleries, excursions in the neighbourhood, or else going with a friend to paint on the Campagna. My mother was extremely fond of Rome, and often said no place had ever suited her so well. Independently of the picturesque beauty of the place, which, to such a lover of nature, was sufficient in itself, there was a very pleasant society during many seasons we spent there. The visitors were far less numerous than they are now, but on that very account there was more sociability and intimacy, and scarcely an evening passed without our meeting. The artists residing at Rome, too, were a most delightful addition to society. Some of them became our very dear friends. My mother remarks:—
We took lodgings at Rome, and as soon as we were settled I resumed my work and wrote every morning till two o'clock, then went to some gallery, walked on the Pincio, dined at six, and in the evening either went out or received visits at home—the pleasantest way of seeing friends, as it does not interfere with one's occupations.