One day, precisely as the clock tolled twelve, we sallied out into the dusty streets—chapeau'd, sworded, belted, and laced up to the chin. The weather was warm, too. A few minutes walk, guided by our obliging cicerone, Mr. Wyllie, carried us to the Palace.
It is a large, square-built villa, spaciously piazzaed and windowed, surrounded by pretty plantations of shrubbery and fruit-trees. At the gateway a guard of Kanaka infantry presented arms, the royal standard was unfurled from the flag-staff and floated to the breeze. Passing up a broad, gravelled alley, we ascended a flight of steps to the piazza, and were again saluted by a double line of officers, who were supposed to be the black rods in waiting. Entering the villa, we found ourselves in a wide hall traversing the centre of the building, with saloons to the right and left. The King not having arrived, we had leisure to inspect the reception room. It was a spacious apartment, with windows on three sides, having green Venetian blinds opening to the piazzas, and two doors leading to the hall. It was handsomely carpeted, and the furniture consisted of a few plain mahogany chairs, with another of state, surmounted by a crown. A round table stood in the centre, supporting alabaster ornaments, volumes of Wilkes' Exploring Expedition, and a richly-bound Bible in the native dialect, presented by that estimable philanthropist, Elizabeth Fry. The walls were hung with portraits of the Lonely One's family—dingy chiefs and their ladies, smiling intensely, with round saucer eyes and thick lips—a painting of Blucher—two of the Kings of Prussia—and facing the throne, in a gorgeously gilt and carved frame, the King of the French; which two last, by a singular coincidence, had lately been presented in great state and procession by the respective consuls, on the very days their several majesties had been dethroned!
Time was only allowed us to take a rapid glance around the saloon, when the approach of majesty was announced, and we hurried back to the hall.
From the opposite side of the terrace appeared the regal cortêge—brilliant in embroidery, gold lace, nodding plumes, and swords at their sides: on they came, two abreast—foremost, the King with the Minister of Finance—then a brace of Chamberlains, followed by the High Chiefs and officers of state, and the procession closed by the two young princes, Alexander and Lot.
In a few moments, his excellency the Minister of Foreign Relations imparted the august intelligence of all being prepared for our reception. Forming in line—the Admiral leading, under pilotage of Mr. Wyllie—we entered the saloon, and approached the throne. The King was standing, and the courtiers ranged on either side. Our Admiral backed his topsails and let go an anchor on the Lonely One's port beam: we were then telegraphed by name—shot ahead—hove to abreast His Majesty—exchanged signals—filled away and took position by order of sailing on the starboard bow!
His excellency the Minister of Finance—who, by the way, was not an ill-looking nobleman—in full court costume, and a field-marshal's chapeau tucked under his arm—announced to the Admiral that His Majesty would deign to lend a willing ear to any observations upon religion, war, politics, or any other topics most agreeable. Whereupon, the Admiral having a few remarks all ready prepared in his pocket, proceeded to dilate on the happiness he felt in being thus honored—spoke of the extraordinary beauty of the Islands—touched upon usefulness of missionaries, and ended by expressing solicitude for His Majesty's welfare and dynasty.
This speech, was immediately translated by the courtly Judd, who, with admirable foresight, had provided himself beforehand with a copy. Thereupon he handed the King a reply, who began in much the same strain as the Admiral, and concluded by hinting that he hoped his dynasty would last a long time!
The business being now happily arranged, His Majesty and the Admiral became seated, and the rest of us were permitted to mingle freely with the Kanaka court.
Kammehamma, and all his native attendants, had handsome, agreeable faces, and were extremely well made. The Premier, John Young, a half-breed, would be recognized for an elegant person in any part of the world. Two were of just and colossal proportions—one, the High Chief Parkee, the greatest Chamberlain probably in the world—for he weighs nearly four hundred pounds: I forget the precise number of chairs he crashes annually, but it is something enormous, and he is the terror of all housekeepers.
The King, Premier and Judd, had broad red ribbons thrown baldric fashion over breast and shoulders, of such extreme breadth as to give the idea of the wearers having burst their jugular arteries.