Indeed, "Lord Alvanley," wrote Lady Granville at a later date, "was quite charming. _Le meilleur enfant_, which does not mean _homme_, but I cannot persuade myself that he is much altered and that he will end by being a very good, as he is a most captivating, person. Such cleverness, _si fin, si simple_, without one grain of effort. What a receipt for being, as he is, quite charming!" Moreover, if the tale be true of the affront which he is said to have offered to Mrs Beaumont, the great lady had manifold compensations. Mrs Stanhope relates:-- The Prince de Bauffremont [10] proposed _à la française_ to Mrs Beaumont for one of her daughters, but she, not understanding the style, took it to herself, and answered with great dignity that she was extremely sorry she was not in a situation to be able to accept it! While in Paris, the Stanhopes had a sad encounter with a former friend, which was curiously typical of existence in the gay city at that date. When Charles Stanhope was at Southampton he had there made the acquaintance of a charming old bachelor, Mr Hibbert. The latter showed him many kindnesses, and, in return, was invited to Cannon Hall for some shooting. John Stanhope records his subsequent history thus:-- "Poor Mr Hibbert! his was indeed a melancholy history. He lived near Southampton, an old bachelor, and then as happy a specimen of that race as I ever saw. He had been a very handsome man, but had unfortunately been bent almost double by a rheumatic fever; however, his face was still striking. He was full of taste and accomplishments, and apparently very well informed, clever and agreeable in society. He was not rich, but evidently possessed fortune enough to supply him with all the luxuries that in his single state he could require. When he visited Cannon Hall he was travelling in a very agreeable manner in his curricle with his own horses, the whole _bien monté_. "Unfortunately he went to Paris when the Peace was signed, and he, who had never touched a card when in England, was persuaded to go to the Salon. He could not refrain from trying his luck, and from that moment he was never absent from the Salon when its dangerous doors were open. He was driven away from Paris by Napoleon's return; he went back there after the _cent jours_ and lost every farthing that he possessed, ending his life as a miserable pensioner in the establishment--I believe within its walls."