It is difficult to believe such a statement of any mortal Court-circle.
But if gross adulation was not offered--a sort of moral pabulum, which
the Queen's admirable good sense would have rejected, there was profound
homage in the very attitude of courtiers and in the etiquette of Court
life. The incense of praise and admiration, "unuttered or exprest," was
perpetually and inevitably rising up about her young footsteps wherever
they strayed; it formed the very air she breathed--about as healthful an
atmosphere to live and sleep in as would be that of a conservatory
abounding in tuberoses, white lilies, and jessamine.

Still, that she did not grow either arrogant or artificial, seems proved
by the pleasant accounts given of her simple and gracious ways by the
painters of whom I have spoken--Thomas Sully and Charles Leslie. I
remember particularly, hearing from a friend of Mr. Sully, of the
generous interest she took in his portrait of her, which, I think, was
painted at Windsor. She gave him all the sittings, or rather standings,
her busy life would allow; giving him free use of all the splendid
paraphernalia necessary for his work. Between whiles the painter's young
daughter stood for the picture, being, of course, obliged to don the
royal robes and even the tiara. One day, while thus engaged and arrayed,
the Queen came suddenly into the room. Miss Sully much confused was about
to descend from the steps of the throne, when the Queen exclaimed,
laughing: "Pray stay as you are; I like to see how I look!"

Leslie, whose picture of the Coronation was painted at Windsor, gave a
pleasant account of the Queen's kindly and easy ways. "She is now," he
says, "so far satisfied with the likeness that she does not wish me to
touch it again. She sat five times--not only for the face, but for as
much as is seen of the figure, and for the hands, with the coronation-