loved and gracious lady who is now Queen Mother, I may trust
myself to speak. I first saw her at Harrow Speeches, when I was a boy of
18, and from that day to this I have admired her more than any woman
whom I have ever seen. To the flawless beauty of the face there was
added that wonderful charm of innocence and unfading youth which no
sumptuosities of dress and decoration could conceal. To see the Princess
in Society was in those days one of my chief delights, and the sight
always suggested to my mind the idea of a Puritan Maiden set in the
midst of Vanity Fair.

We have seen that the centre of Society at the period which I am
describing was Marlborough House, and that centre was encircled by rings
of various compass, the widest extending to South Kensington in the one
direction, and Portman Square in the other. The innermost ring was
composed of personal friends, and, as personal friendship belongs to
private life, we must not here discuss it. The second ring was composed
of the great houses--"The Palaces," as Pennialinus[23] calls them,--the
houses, I mean, which are not distinguished by numbers, but are called
"House," with a capital H. And first among these I must place Grosvenor
House. As I look back over all the entertainments which I have ever seen
in London, I can recall nothing to compare with a Ball at Grosvenor
House, in the days of Hugh, Duke of Westminster, and his glorious wife.
No lesser epithet than "glorious" expresses the combination of beauty,
splendour, and hospitable enjoyment, which made Constance, Duchess of
Westminster, so unique a hostess. Let me try to recall the scene.

Dancing has begun in a tentative sort of way, when there is a sudden
pause, and "God Save the Queen" is heard in the front hall. The Prince
and Princess of Wales have arrived, and their entrance is a pageant
worth seeing. With courtly grace and pretty pomp, the host and hostess
usher their royal guests into the great gallery, walled with the
canvasses of Rubens, which serves as a dancing-room. Then the fun
begins, and the bright hours fly swiftly till one o'clock suggests the
tender thought of supper, which is served on gold plate and Sevres china
in a garden-tent of Gobelins tapestry. "'What a perfect family!'
exclaimed Hugo Bohun, as he extracted a couple of fat little birds from
their bed of aspic jelly. 'Everything they do in such perfect taste. How
safe you were to have ortolans for supper!'"[24]

Next in my recollecti