The conversation then turned upon Alexander von Humboldt, who appears to have been a courtier too, but not of the amusing variety. The Chief said: “Under the late King I was the sole victim when Humboldt chose to entertain the company in his own style. He usually read, often for hours at a time, the biography of some French savant or architect in whom nobody in the world except himself took the slightest interest. He stood by the lamp holding the paper close to the light, and occasionally paused for the purpose of making some learned observation. Although nobody listened to him he had the ear of the house. The Queen was all the time at work on a piece of tapestry, and certainly did not understand a word of what he said. The King looked through his portfolios of engravings, turning them over as noisily as possible, evidently with the intention of not hearing him. The young people on both sides and in the background enjoyed themselves without the least restraint, so that their cackling and giggling actually drowned his reading, which however rippled on without break or stop like a brook. Gerlach, who was usually present, sat on his small round chair which could barely accommodate his voluminous person, and slept so soundly that he snored. The King was once obliged to wake him, and said, ‘Pray, Gerlach, don’t snore so loud!’ I was Humboldt’s only patient listener, that is to say I sat silent and pretended to listen, at the same time following my own thoughts, until at length cold cake and white wine were served. It put the old gentleman in very bad humour not to be allowed to have the talk all to himself. I remember once there was somebody there who managed to monopolise the conversation, quite naturally, it is true, as he was a clever raconteur and spoke about things that interested everybody. Humboldt was beside himself. In a peevish surly temper he piled his plate so high (pointing with his hand) with _pâté de foie gras_, fat eels, lobsters’ tails, and other indigestible stuff,--a real mountain,--it was astounding that an old man could put it all away. At last his patience was exhausted, and he could not stand it any longer. So he tried to interrupt the speaker. ‘On the peak of Popocatapetl,’ he began,--but the other went on with his story. ‘On the peak of Popocatapetl, seven thousand fathoms above’--but he again failed to make any impression, and the narrative maintained its easy flow. ‘On the peak of Popocatapetl, seven thousand fathoms above the level of the sea,’ he exclaimed in a loud and excited tone,--but with as little success as before. The talker talked on, and the company had no ears for anybody else. That was something unheard of, outrageous! Humboldt threw himself back in morose meditation over the ingratitude of mankind, and shortly afterwards left. The Liberals made a great deal of him, and counted him as one of themselves. He was however a sycophant who aspired to the favour of Princes and who