Though I say it is of but small social advantage to an Englishman to be presented, yet undoubtedly the greatest people in the empire attend court, and are to be seen at the ceremonials and festivities at Buckingham and St. James’s Palaces.  At present the queen holds drawing-rooms and levees at Buckingham Palace, and the prince of Wales at St. James’s Palace.  The latter are attended only by gentlemen, and, though not so grand as the queen’s, are pleasanter.  Trousers are allowed, instead of the knee-breeches and stockings which must be worn at all court ceremonials where there are ladies.  At two o’clock—­for the prince is very punctual—­the doors of the reception-room are thrown open, and the diplomatists begin to file in.  First come the ambassadors.  It must be remembered that there is a wide difference between an ambassador and an envoy or minister plenipotentiary.  The original difference was that the ambassador was supposed, by a sort of transubstantiation, to represent the person of his sovereign.  He had a right at any time to demand an audience with the king.  An envoy must see the foreign secretary.  This, of course, has ceased to have any practical significance in countries which have constitutions; and no doubt a minister can at any time demand an interview of the sovereign.  It is still true, however, that an ambassador is accredited to the king, while an envoy is accredited to the foreign secretary.  Practically, the difference is that an ambassador represents a bigger country, has better pay, lives in a finer house, and gives more parties and grander dinners.  An ambassador has precedence of everybody in the country in which he resides, except the royal family.

There are five countries which send ambassadors to England—­Russia, France, Germany, Austria and Turkey.  These ambassadors enter the reception-room at the prince’s levee in the order of seniority of residence.  The Turkish ambassador, Musurus, who had been twenty years in London, came first on the occasions I speak of, the others following, I forget in what order.  They were all persons of distinguished appearance.  One, in particular, was singularly wise and dignified-looking, with an aspect which was either bland or severe, one could scarcely say which.  Another resembled strikingly the typical diplomatist of romance, having a manner suave and infinitely deferential, but oh! so under-handed and insidious and diabolical!  The duc de Broglie was the French ambassador in London at the time of my visit, and of all the corps his person and countenance possessed much the most distinction.  His was a distinction of spirit and intellect:  the distinction of the other continental “swells” was usually one of stomach and whiskers.