“. . . I was at Brougham’s by half-past two, and found Craven waiting. As soon as
Brougham was ready, we set off to pick up Mrs. Damer, who was to dine also with the
Queen. And here let me stop to
express my admiration for this extraordinary person. You know she is Field Marshal Conway’s daughter, cousin
of Lord Hertford, &c., &c. She is
the person who paid all her husband’s debts, without the least obligation
upon her so to do, and she is the person who renounced all claim to half of
Lord Clinton’s estate when she
was informed that by law she was entitled to it. She is 70 years of age, and as
fresh as if she was 50. . . . Well—when we reached Brandenburg House, we
were ushered up a very indifferent staircase and through an ante-room into a
very handsome, well-proportioned room from 40 to 50 feet long, very lofty, with
a fine coved ceiling, painted with gods and goddesses in their very best
clothes. The room looks upon the Thames, and is not a hundred yards from it.
Upon our entrance, the Queen came directly to Mrs. Damer,
then to Brougham, and then to me. I am not sure whether I
did not commit the outrage of putting out my hand without her doing the same
first; be it as it may, however, we did shake hands. She then asked me if I had
not forgotten her, and I can’t help thinking she considered my visit as
somewhat late, or otherwise she would have said
something civil about my uniform support. She is
| 14 | THE CREEVEY PAPERS | [Ch I. |
“Our company of ladies was Mme. Olde and Mme. Felice. . . . Mme. Felice is a very, very little woman, with one of the prettiest faces I ever saw. I should think she was not much older than 20, though she has been married 5 years. As we went down to dinner, Craven handed the Queen, Brougham Mrs. Damer; Mme. Felice, who was leaning on the arm of a foreigner, seeing me unprovided for came in the most natural, laughing manner, and put her arm thro’ mine. . . . Of men, the principal was the Marquis of Antalda, a great proprietor in Pessaro and Bologna . . . a person of great consideration in his own country, a man of letters, and as agreeable a man as you will find anywhere. . . . There might be six or seven other men, and nothing could be more decorous or more courtlike than they all were in their manner to the Queen. . . . We came away before eight. . . . There is a capital picture by Hoppner of Berkeley and Keppel Craven. The only picture belonging to her Majesty is one of Alderman Wood without a frame.”
