I went and found him very weak, but genuinely glad to see me. He talked slowly and carefully, showing that the breaking-up of the body had in no way affected his magnificent mind. I remember his complaining to me that Froude wanted him to correct proofs on his death-bed; but that he had refused!
I am not what would be described as emotional, having perhaps more than the average amount of control over myself; but I felt at the bedside of that dear old man that I could not keep my self-possession.
His last words to me were:
"Ay, ay, when you come back here (from Russia) you will not find me alive."
As to my other old friends, like Kinglake, Froude, Charles Villiers and Count Béust—who were, in fact, my daily visitors—I need not more than mention their names, having written of them so fully elsewhere.
Among the many interesting personalities whom I have at various times met, there comes to my mind the remembrance of Mark Twain. The society of the great American humorist was always greatly sought after—a very natural circumstance—for, unlike many famous wits who keep all their brilliancy exclusively at the points of their pens, Mark Twain was sociable and talkative and seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of delightful anecdotes, ever ready and at the disposition of his friends. He called on me one day, and, speaking of his approaching departure on some pleasure trip with his wife and two daughters, remarked with a humorous twinkle in his eye:
"It is fortunate that we have no courier to make a muddle with our tickets——"
"Why should couriers make muddles?" I asked. "Have you had tragic experiences of that kind?"
"Not personally," he answered; "but there was a millionaire who travelled with all his huge family, the kind of family that is described in the Old Testament. They gave themselves great airs, and of course arrived at the station one minute before the departure of the train, having left everything to their courier. The latter, however, had evidently been otherwise occupied, and was late too, arriving almost at the same moment as the family.