The libretto of _Clari_ was based upon the old, old tragedy. It was the story of a beautiful girl, who after some months of luxurious misery in a city, comes back to seek peace in her village home. I have often heard my father and Mr. Henry Greville say what a dream of fascination she was when with her wide-brimmed straw hat, slung by a ribbon to her arm—looking like a dainty picture by Morland—she came forward and in her sweet voice—a voice which in speaking retained its charm to the end—sadly warbled the pathetic song. The town was conquered and there was not a dry eye in the house. In circumstances so romantic that even at this distance of time it would be indiscreet to mention them, she won the heart of Mr. Bradshaw—the Jemmy Bradshaw of contemporary memoirs—one of the great dandies of the early days of the nineteenth century, a friend of the Prince Regent. It was a happy marriage, and there was one beautiful daughter, who became the wife of Captain Langley, an officer in the 2nd Life Guards. They were as handsome a couple as could be seen—and they were made very welcome in the society of Coblenz. The sympathy of the sword and great personal charm were a passport to the friendship of the very smart garrison. I can see Mrs. Bradshaw coming into the room tapping her way with her stick. Gracious and kind she always was, and her poor dim eyes, that used to laugh so merrily, had not forgotten how to smile a welcome. Many happy hours I spent as a boy and afterwards as a young man in her house in the Schloss-Strasse. During the fifties, the old Emperor William, his brother being still alive, was military governor or viceroy of Rhenan Prussia and Westphalia, and held his Court at Coblenz. Both he and his Princess, afterwards the Empress Augusta, were most graciously kind to foreigners. My father was a frequent guest at the Palace, and even I, though a mere boy, was more than once invited to the afternoon coffee parties. Naturally enough the Court was a centre for the best society of the town and neighbourhood—mostly military and official. The Prince was a handsome, soldier-like figure, bluff and hearty, royal to his fingers’ tips, most gracious and friendly in the reception of his guests. He was all his life the sworn foe of anarchism and socialism, and at one time was so clearly marked as a probable object of attack, that in March, 1848, he was compelled by his brother and the government to leave Germany for a while. He remained in London only until June, when he returned to Berlin as a member of the National Assembly, and declared himself a conscientious supporter of the Constitutional Monarchy. He assumed his high office at Coblenz in 1849, shortly after the attempt upon his life by a ruffianly anarchist named Adam Schneider at Niederingelheim.