The Prince of Wales visited the circus and congratulated Barnum ostentatiously; the Princess of Wales saw the performance four times, and when arrangements were made for the return to the United States, she asked Barnum to delay the departure so that Queen Victoria, who was at Windsor, might be present. “I said I was very sorry that we couldn’t wait for the Queen, and that she [the Princess of Wales] had better tell Her Majesty she was making a mistake in not changing her plans and coming before we packed up.” The Princess of Wales promised to convey Barnum’s message to her mother-in-law, and Barnum added, “Tell her she is missing the greatest spectacle of her life.” When the Prince of Wales said to Barnum, “It must have cost you a lot of money to come here,” Barnum answered: “It cost upward of £100,000, your Royal Highness.” In telling the story to reporters in the United States, Barnum explained: “The Prince, of course, thought showmen always speak the truth. As a matter of fact, it did cost half that much, and I thought I treated Wales very fairly in placing the amount at so moderate a figure.” Barnum’s success with royalty was always great because of his inoffensive familiarity. Familiarity was unusual, and what would have been insulting and disrespectful in a native subject was accepted in an American showman as quaint and amusing, the interesting entertainment of a court fool with an international reputation; and it may be that he was admired universally by those who enjoyed artificial attainments because it was impossible for them to envy his achievements. Barnum asked the young Prince George, now King George V, whether he was going to stop until the end of the performance. He looked around cautiously, paused for a moment, and leaning towards Barnum said: “Mr. Barnum, I shall remain here until they sing God Save Grandmother!” When Gladstone occupied the royal box one evening with a party of distinguished guests, he delighted Barnum by requesting that the showman remain seated by his side during the entire performance. Barnum later said that the statesman was the best conversationalist he had ever met, but from Barnum’s account of the meeting to newspaper reporters one gathers that Mr. Gladstone did not do most of the talking. After Gladstone had remarked pleasantly that they were both of the same age, Barnum suggested boldly that Mr. Gladstone should emulate his example, cross the Atlantic Ocean and visit the United States, “where I can guarantee you the greatest ovation any man ever received.” Gladstone straightened stiffly in his chair, pointed at one of the gladiators in the great spectacle of “Nero, or the Burning of Rome,” and asked, “What is that man doing?” It was Barnum’s impression from this that Gladstone was immune from flattery, and averse to it; but it is also possible that Mr. Gladstone feared that Mr. Barnum wanted him for his museum.