I once was spoken to by a king; I had great anticipations. When I saw him, I found, to my astonishment, that he was only a man. I had to go on a knee and show my affection for him, which I did not feel, by kissing his hand, which was large and flabby. This gentleman was named William; there had only been three of that name before him. The next day I saw a queen; her name was Adelaide. This lady bowed to me, smiled at me. This introduction did not lead to any intimacy, as may be supposed, but it entitled me to the acquaintance of our ambassadors abroad, and to the entrÉe at foreign courts. On the evening of the Drawing-Room, my friend Mr. Nussey took me to dine with Sir William Martens, at St. James’s Palace. He belonged to the Court, and on the subject of royalty was emotional. The conversation turned on the ladies at the Drawing-Room. I spoke of a daughter of Lord Stewart de Rothsay as the one great object of admiration. He went into raptures over the name, and congratulated me on having seen the most beautiful woman of the day. This lady married the Marquis of Waterford, and is the mother of our naval hero, Lord Charles Beresford. An old friend of mine, Madame Gandillot, whom The king received the supposed ambassador graciously, but looked puzzled; he received his message in due form, but still had a puzzled look, as if, as was surmised, the face of the envoy was not new to him. So the interview passed off, to the great amusement of the queen, followed by no remark from the king either then or after. |