A.D. 1796.

Long before the first year of their marriage was completed the princess was living almost in solitary confinement at Brighton, while her good-for-nothing husband was leading the gayest sort of an existence in London, courted and honored at all the brilliant parties he attended, and almost ignoring the fact that he had a wife. He had abandoned his extravagant court at Carlton House for a time, because he was not entirely satisfied with the revenue that had been settled on him; so he showed his discontent by assuming a theatrical air of injured innocence, poked his wife off in the country, and continued his shameful course.

Then, feeling justly indignant at her husband's neglect, and at the coldness of all of the royal family, excepting the old king, who was always her firm friend, the princess was guilty of an indiscretion, the effect of which went far towards completing her ruin. This consisted in writing letters to her relations in Brunswick, in which she not only complained piteously of her own position, but imprudently made use of very harsh terms towards the queen and the princesses, who she declared disliked her exceedingly, and seemed to take special pains to misrepresent her every action. Her situation was without doubt distressing, and it seems not unnatural for the young wife to yearn for some sympathizing friend in whose ear she could pour forth her tale of wrong and regret; but we know that lack of judgment was Princess Caroline's greatest fault, and it appears plainly in this, instance. She did not write a dignified, sorrowful appeal to her parents, telling them of her blasted hopes, and asking advice, for which there might have been some excuse; but she sent pages of gossip and sarcastic abuse of her relations in England to various parties in her native land, tittle-tattle, unwise as it was unrefined, and unladylike.

These letters she confided to the care of Doctor Randolph, a clergyman, who was going to Germany, and promised to deliver them. All his arrangements were made for the journey when Mrs. Randolph fell ill, and it was abandoned. The packet of letters written by the princess was forthwith returned under cover, addressed to Lady Jersey. That malicious spy carried them to the queen, by whom they were read, and displayed among the different members of the royal family, the Prince of Wales included. Of course this dishonorable action was not reported to the writer of the letters, who remained in ignorance of their fate for many years; therefore she continued to suffer from the ever-increasing coldness and disdain of her husband and his family, excepting the king, without being able to account for it. She had committed a fault, but compared with those of the prince it sinks into insignificance; for he was a heartless, treacherous reprobate from his cradle to his grave.

Princess Caroline had a little daughter born in the early part of the new year at Carlton House. The father pronounced her a "fine little girl," and she was christened Charlotte Augusta. The usual congratulatory addresses were prepared; yet, when the corporation of London desired to present theirs, they were informed that, as the prince had reduced his establishment, he was unable to receive them "in a manner suitable to the situation," yet they might send it to him. To this they very properly refused to listen, whereupon his royal highness sent for the Lord Mayor, and gracefully proclaimed his sentiments of veneration and esteem for the corporation of the city of London with many lame excuses for not receiving the address. He did not, however, add that he was at that very moment contemplating a final separation from the princess, which was his real reason for declining public rejoicings.

Soon after he went to Windsor to live, and the princess was so lonely with the few old people selected by the queen to be her companions that she complained both to the king and the prince. The consequence was a message sent to her through Lady Cholmondeley, saying that "they ought to separate." This was no shock to the young mother, who had been prepared by the prince's neglect to expect nothing better; but, when this message had been repeated several times, she merely replied, "That she would be quite happy to live with her husband provided a change was made in his behavior."

The prince's message was followed by a letter, in which, after writing "our inclinations are not in our power, nor should either of us be held answerable to the other because nature has not made us suitable to each other," he proposed that they should live apart, and meet in society merely as ordinary acquaintances. The injured wife agreed to this, only stipulating that the separation should be forever, and concluded her reply thus: "You will find enclosed a copy of my letter to the king. As I have at this moment no protector but his majesty, I refer myself solely to him on this subject; and, if my conduct meets his approbation, I shall be in some degree at least consoled.

"I retain every sentiment of gratitude for the situation in which I find myself as Princess of Wales; enabled by your

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means to indulge in the free use of a virtue dear to my heart—I mean charity. It will be my duty likewise to act upon another motive, that of giving an example of patience and resignation under every trial."

In this dignified, sensible answer, the prince could see only that he was to be rid of the creature whom he had used as a tool to relieve him of his embarrassments, and agreed without a moment's hesitation to her wish that their separation should be final.

The king attempted to patch up a reconciliation, but did not succeed. He then suggested an allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the princess, but she declined any stipulated sum, and declared that her bills should be sent to the prince for settlement. Public opinion was in favor of the princess; and the first time she appeared at the opera, after the separation, she was greeted with a tremendous outburst of applause, that must have been galling to the prince. It certainly alarmed the poor lady, who said, "she supposed she should be guillotined on account of it." She had contrived before this to dismiss Lady Jersey, who was excessively obnoxious to her, and Lady Carnarvon and Mrs. Fitzroy were ladies-in-waiting in her stead.

The princess now gathered about her friends well known for their rank and respectability, all of whom were impressed by her good sense and discretion. This makes it very clear that she was driven, by a persistent course of ill-treatment, to the follies of her later life. It was so painful for her to appear at court, where she met with coldness and disdain, that she made a humble appeal, both to the king and the prince, to be relieved from doing so; and the public felt so much sympathy with her that her request could not be refused. The worthy old king had a warm feeling for his favorite sister's child, and was grieved at the indignity she had suffered; so he wrote her a kind, fatherly letter, urging her to make another attempt at reconciliation with the prince. His tone throughout was affectionate and sensible, and he advised her to intimate to her husband that she desired his return, and to promise that no reproaches should disturb his equanimity if he would consent. With the belief that the king would not so have written unless he had reason to suppose that his son was willing to become reconciled to her, the princess eagerly undertook the task of writing to him, and for the moment felt buoyed up with the hope of winning him. This is a copy of her letter:—

"I avail myself with the greatest ardor of the king's desire, whose letter shows me that you are willing to yield to his wishes, which fills me with the greatest delight. I look forward with infinite pleasure to the moment that will bring you to Carlton House, and that will forever terminate a misunderstanding which, on my side, I assure you, will never be thought of again. If you do me the honor of seeking my society in future, I will do everything to make it agreeable to you. If I should displease you, you must be generous enough to forgive me, and count upon my gratitude, which I shall feel to the end of my life. I may look for this as mother of your daughter, and as one who is ever yours."

This humble appeal had no effect on the prince, and, finding it treated with silent contempt, the princess gave up all hopes of a reconciliation, and went to live with a few ladies at Montague House, near Blackheath. Her little daughter was not allowed to accompany her, but was kept at Carlton House, under the direction of Lady Elgin and Miss Hayman, the sub-governess.

The prince continued to live at Carlton House, but saw very little of his daughter, because he had not much time for anything but his own pleasures, and she constituted no part of them. However, rather than leave her to the care of her mother, he assumed some concern for her welfare, and by his gracious and charming manners made a most favorable impression on Miss Hayman.

A.D. 1797. The princess visited her daughter about once a week, and loved the little thing so dearly that she made several applications to the prince to be allowed to have her at Montague House; but he never noticed them. Miss Hayman thus describes one of the royal mother's visits to the nursery:—

"The princess came in to see me and spoke very affably. She asked me if I did not find the infant wonderfully like the Prince of Wales, and whether I was fond of children, and added that her little Charlotte had been naughty, but was now, by Lady Elgin's care, quite good. She stayed about half an hour, and selected some lace for the baby's frocks. When Lady Elgin came in she said, 'Miss Hayman must now kiss her royal highness's hand;' but the princess got up and said, 'Oh, no! We will shake hands instead,' and turned the whole formality into a jest. She then began a gossiping conversation on novels, and showed throughout the warm-heartedness and kindliness, the indiscretion and want of dignity which, Lord Malmesbury had noticed in her."

Miss Hayman was removed from the royal nursery at the end of three months, because the princess seemed to favor her: but she was then taken into service at Montague House, where pleasant parties were often given, and the friends of the princess contrived to pass the time quite merrily. Sir Gilbert Elliot, Lord and Lady Wood, the Duke and Duchess of Hamilton, the Edens, and Lord Thurlow were among the guests, and, strange to say, the last was friend and adviser to both the Prince and Princess of Wales. Sir Gilbert Elliot constantly praises the conduct of the injured wife, and declares that she was utterly undeserving of "such strange neglect." He said of her besides: "Her countenance is remarkably lively and pleasing; I think her positively a handsome woman, but she is a little indiscreet; for she is apt to select any new guest, to whom she will pour out the whole story of her wrongs, while the rest stand about and look on."

The Princess Charlotte was sometimes taken to visit her mother. On one of these occasions she was permitted to remain in the drawing-room until dinner was announced, and all the guests pronounced her one of the finest and pleasantest of children. The mother got down on her knees and romped and played with her child for a long time. When the little girl became unruly one day, Miss Garth, a lady-in-waiting, said to her, "You have been so naughty, I don't know what we must do with you."

"You must soot me," she replied,—meaning shoot her.

Although the life of Princess Caroline was in some respects a sad one, she passed many pleasant hours in company with her friends, dancing, playing cards, blind man's buff, and other games, interspersed with musical parties.

A.D. 1798. After many months the idea of a reconciliation was broached by the prince and his advisers; but fancying that she saw some object for which she was again to be made a tool, the shrewd princess was determined that unless the matter was laid before her in due form she would treat it according to the example the prince had shown her. She was right; for Mrs. Fitzherbert, who always considered herself the only real wife of the Prince of Wales, was again honored by his attentions. She had been the person selected by himself for a wife, the Duke of York was her firm friend, the queen was kind and attentive, and George III. treated her with the tenderness of a father from the time of her landing in England until he ceased to reign. She was a good woman, and never in any way gave cause for scandal. On the contrary, when the prince, her husband, returned to live with her, she gave a public breakfast in honor of the event, and the following eight years were very happy ones to this couple.

At this period a taste for the best music and the stage was cultivated to a remarkable degree by the nobility. Both the king and the Prince of Wales extended their patronage to the opera, which was a pastime that only the aristocracy could indulge in, because it was too expensive for the general public. The royal family attended regularly, and the corps of actors included a great deal of talent. One of these was Elliston, who had a curious ad-venture with George III., by whom he had been commanded to appear in a certain part on his benefit-night.

The monarch had been taking a very long walk, entirely alone, when a sudden rain storm came up just as he was passing the theatre door. In he went, and meeting no one passed at once to the royal box, and seated himself in his own chair. The light in the theatre was dim, the air somewhat close, and the king, soon succumbing to the influence of both after his brisk walk, fell asleep. Towards night Elliston entered the theatre to make sure that everything was in readiness for the play; but first went to the king's box to inspect that. What was his surprise to find a man comfortably ensconced in his majesty's own arm-chair? He raised his hand and was just about to let it descend with a smart blow on the intruder's shoulder when he recognized the king. What was to be done? He dared not arouse the royal sleeper, and the time for the performance was approaching. Suddenly an idea struck him; softly stepping out of the royal box, he took a violin from the orchestra, and stationing himself in the pit just under the sleeper's nose, struck up "God save the King!" Up started his majesty, rubbing his eyes, and staring at the comedian, who went down on his knees, while continuing his tune. "Hey! hey! hey! What! what! Oh, yes! I see, Elliston—ha! ha! ha! Rain came on—took a seat—took a nap. What's o'clock?"

"Approaching six, your majesty."

"Six!—six o'clock!" exclaimed the king. "Send to her majesty—say I'm here. Stay—stay—this wig won't do—eh, eh? Don't keep the people waiting—light up—light up—let'em in—let'em in—ha! ha! ha! fast asleep! Play well to-night, Elliston. Great favorite with the queen. Let 'em in—let 'em in."

The house was illuminated at once; messengers were sent off to the royal family, and in a few minutes they reached the theatre. At the close of the performance, the comedian attended the king and queen to their carriage, and as he held open the door, his majesty laughingly exclaimed, "Fast asleep, eh, Elliston!—fast asleep! ha! ha! ha!"

A.D. 1801. By this time the king's health was seriously impaired; but of his condition and the causes, the chapter devoted to his reign contains an account. He was always friendly to his daughter-in-law, and said, again and again: "The princess shall have her child, and I will speak to Mr. Wyatt about building a wing to her present house." He meant well, but his mind was so feeble that he was to be depended on for nothing. The Prince of Wales bothered him, as he was constantly doing in one way or another, and sent a request through Mr. Addington, who had succeeded Mr. Pitt as prime minister, to be placed in command of the army. After a month's delay, the king, who had but a poor opinion of his eldest son's ability or courage, declared that there was no situation in the army suited to his rank; and not long after peace was concluded.

A.D. 1802. This joyful event was celebrated by festivities of all kinds. The Lord Mayor gave a magnificent entertainment, which the Prince of Wales attended; and so great was the popular enthusiasm that the horses were taken from his carriage, and the mob drew it to the Mansion House. At the close of this feast there was a ball given by the Gaming Club, in a hall decorated on the most magnificent scale. The windows were, by some mechanical contrivance, converted into entrances, hung with festoons of flowers and gilt lanterns containing brilliant lights. The hall was splendidly illuminated, and the walls were covered with a rich green and buff paper. Each recess formed a conservatory for choice plants and trees of rare beauty. There was a grand orchestra, composed of first-class musicians, and a large band of Indians performed their war-dances. The Prince of Wales wore a rich Highland costume, and was comfortably placed in a room appropriated to him and his party. An adjoining one represented a cave, in which a company of bandits, consisting of musically-inclined lords, sang comic songs for the amusement of his royal highness. Many of the foreign ministers were present, and the ball was pronounced one of the most splendid ever given in England.

A.D. 1804. We now turn with pleasure to the young Princess Charlotte, who had become a most engaging child of eight years. Miss Berry pictures her with "her face damaged by small-pox to an extent rarely seen at the time among the higher classes;" and says "that it frightened her to hear dismal stories, yet able to tell a very good one herself." She was a bright child, could speak French, knew music, and was remarkably amiable and good-natured. She had a peculiar little stammer in her speech, "which she never lost, even after she became a woman. Miss Gale had succeeded Miss Hayman as sub-governess, and lived with her charge at a country place known as Shrewsbury House, near Shooter's Hill.

There are many stories told of her amusing insubordination. She used to leave the doors wide open, and rush with a shout into Miss Gale's room. "My dear princess," the lady would exclaim, "you should always shut the door after you."

"Not! indeed!" returned the little lady; "if you want the door shut, ring the bell." Then with a laugh she would run off. Sometimes she would commit a forbidden act, and then say, defiantly, "I have done it,—now punish me."

Her mother remained at Montague House, always favored and protected by the king, who was very fond of his grandchild. The princess devoted herself to music, painting, and modelling, and spent her evenings with the friends who gathered around her and sympathized with her wrongs. Although she would at times abuse the prince loudly at her own table, she always gave her daughter good advice with regard to him. Such speeches as this were not uncommon: "It must have been an honor and pleasure to you that your father wished to see you on his birthday, and I trust you will never in any day of your life deviate from the respect and attachment which is due to the prince, your father."

The young princess had violent likes and dislikes. Two people for whom she felt a special aversion were Dr. Fisher, Bishop of Salisbury, and Mrs. Udney. She shows this in a will which she made before she was nine years old, from which she excludes both. It ran thus: "I make my will. First, I leave all my best books and all my books to the Rev. Mr. Nott. Secondly, to Mrs. Campbell, my three watches and half my jewels. Thirdly, I beg Mr. Nott, whatever money he finds me in possession of, to distribute to the poor, and I leave to Mr. Nott all my papers which he knows of. I beg the Prayer-book which Lady Elgin gave me may be given to the Bishop of Exeter, and that the Bible Lady Elgin gave me may be given to him also. Also my playthings the Misses Fisher are to have. And, lastly, concerning Mrs. Gargarin and Mrs. Lewis, I beg that they may be very handsomely paid, and that they may have a house. Lady de Clifford, the rest of my jewels, except those that are the most valuable; and these my father and mother, the Prince and Princess of Wales, are to take. Nothing to Mrs. Udney,—for reasons. I have done my will, and trust that after I am dead a great deal may be done for Mr. Nott. I hope the king will make him a bishop.—Charlotte." This childish will, instead of merely exciting a smile on the part of the prince, caused his serious displeasure. He pronounced it "high treason," and sent for Mr. Adam, chancellor of the duchy of Cornwall, to get his opinion on this highly important matter. Meanwhile, the privy council did not consider it beneath their dignity to put their wise heads together for consultation about Princess Charlotte's will. The desire to have Mr. Nott created a bishop never could have originated in that young brain, they decided. "Your royal highness has a just conception of the matter," declared Mr. Adam. In short, after the document had occupied a great deal more time and thought than it was worth, it was settled that as Mrs. Campbell had been so highly favored, she had exerted an undue influence over the mind of the little princess, and the worthy woman was forthwith dismissed from the household.

The king now decided to undertake the education of Princess Charlotte himself, acting as trustee for the nation. His reason for this step was that he did not consider his son a proper person even to live in the same house with her, and it was not expedient that the mother should take her in charge. The Prince of Wales had not been on friendly terms with his parents for many months; but Mr. Pitt, who was again in power, attempted to bring about a reconciliation between him and the queen. This was not a difficult matter; for the mother's heart naturally yearned towards her son, and a dutiful note from him was answered affectionately by her.

In accordance with a desire expressed by the prince that he might be permitted to throw himself at the king's feet, an appointment was made for him at Kew; but, although the king went there specially for that purpose, the prince pleaded illness, and failed to appear. He was not ill, but very indignant because his father made frequent visits to the Princess of Wales, to whom he knew that, if he gave up his daughter to the king, some benefit would accrue. In order to avoid the necessity of giving his consent to this step he decided to forego the privilege he had asked. Three months later the interview really did take place, and the very first person to whom the king made a report of it was the Princess of Wales. He wrote her a most affectionate note, in which he assured her that nothing should be decided upon with regard to the future of her daughter without her concurrence, adding: "For your authority as a mother it is my object to support."

A.D. 1805. The king was so fond of his daughter-inlaw that he presented her with two beautiful Arabian horses and a very costly service of gold, and frequently expressed a desire to pass as much time in her society as possible, and to take her under his special protection.

Having presented the bad sides of the prince's character, it is only fair to tell something good of him; for we know that "there is good in all, though none all good," as the proverb says. Here is an anecdote that indicates kindness of heart. It is thus related by a person who witnessed the scene:—"Being at Brighton, and going rather earlier than usual to visit his stables, the prince inquired of a groom, 'Where is Tom Cross? Is he unwell? I have missed him for some days.' 'Please your royal highness,' answered the groom, hesitatingly, 'I believe—for—Mr.—can inform your royal highness.' 'I desire to know, sir, of you. What has he done?' 'I believe—your royal highness—something—not—quite correct. Something about the oats.' 'Where is Mr.————-? Send him to me immediately.' The prince seemed much disturbed at what he had heard, as the youth for whom he inquired was the son of an old, faithful groom, who had died in his service. When the officer of the stable appeared, his royal highness inquired, 'Where is Tom Cross? What has become of him?' 'I do not know, your royal highness.' 'What has he been doing?' 'Purloining the oats, your royal highness, and I discharged him.' 'What, sir? Send him away without acquainting me!—not know whither he has gone!—a fatherless boy, driven into the world from my service, with a blighted character! Why, the poor fellow will be destroyed. Mr.————, I did not expect this from you! Seek him out, sir, and let me not see you until you have discovered him.' Before many days Tom was found and brought before his royal master. He hung his head, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. The prince looked at him for a moment or two, and then said: 'Tom, Tom, what have you been doing? Happy it is for your poor father that he is gone; it would have broken his heart to see you in such a situation. I hope this is your first offence!' The youth was so overcome with shame and remorse that he wept bitterly. 'Ah, Tom, I am glad to see that you are penitent,' continued the prince; 'your father was an honest man; I had a great regard for him; so I should have for you, if you were a good lad, for his sake. Now, if I desire Mr.————to take you into the stable again, do you think I may trust you?' Tom fell on his knees, implored forgiveness, and promised to reform. 'Well, then, you shall be restored,' said the prince. 'Avoid evil company; go and recover your character; be diligent; be honest, and make me your friend; and—hark ye, Tom—I will take care that no one shall ever taunt you with what is past!'"

It was by such gracious acts that the Prince of Wales won the gratitude and admiration of his inferiors. "Do as I say, but not as I do," ought to have been his motto, for he could advise others so much better than he could act for himself.

It is always interesting to know what people look like; so here is a picture of the Prince of Wales as he appeared at the age of forty-two: "A merry, good-humored man, tall, though somewhat portly in stature, in the prime of life, with laughing eyes, pouting lips, and nose which very slightly turned up and gave a peculiar poignancy to the expression of his face. He wore a well-powdered wig, adorned with a profusion of curls, and a very large pigtail appended thereto. His clothes fitted him like a glove; his coat wras single-breasted and buttoned up to the chin. His nether garments were leather pantaloons and Hessian boots. Around his throat was a huge, white neck-cloth of many folds, out of which his chin seemed to be always struggling to emerge."

[A.D. 1806.] Here was an exterior that may have been very attractive to those who did not know the Prince of Wales for the lazy, vain, frivolous, weak, dissipated creature that he was; always plunging himself into some awkward embarrassment by thoughtlessly taking action where his feelings were aroused. And thus, with a decided hatred for his injured wife, he chose to pervert every indiscreet or thoughtless speech or action of hers into the appearance of

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crime; for he never could prove anything against her. He bribed her servants and his own to appear against the princess, when the king thought fit to institute a court of inquiry; but never were proceedings more improper or unjust. But the truth prevailed, as it always must, and the princess came out victorious at last, though not without severe tests of patience and resignation, that nothing but great, piety and fortitude could have carried her through. She had warm friends always, and they gathered about her at this crisis. The most valuable of her allies was Mr. Perceval, who enthusiastically espoused her cause, and drew up a statement of her case. This document has always been considered one of the most powerful and complete defences ever written, and the author of it had the satisfaction of a splendid triumph. To be sure, there was considerable delay; for so determined was the prince upon the ruin of his wife that even when the king was convinced of her innocence, and willing for her to reappear at court, he adopted every means to procure further inquiries, and if possible more charges.

A.D. 1807. An ignominious defeat was his reward; for the council declared the princess innocent of every charge brought against her, and she was invited to appear at the queen's drawing-room. The royal family were all present when she entered, elegantly attired. The king received her affectionately, the ladies and gentlemen with cordial respect, the queen with cold, formal courtesy, and the princesses with indifference. Presently she stood face to face with the prince, her husband, in the very centre of the apartment, with all eyes fixed on them. They bowed, exchanged a few common-places, and then passed on,—he as cold as an icicle, she dignified and triumphant. They never met again; and, strange to say, instead of profiting by the lesson she had had, and seeking to retain the favor of the populace, which she certainly had secured, the princess became so reckless as to alienate even her best friends.

She lived at Kensington Palace, though she still retained her villa at Blackheath, and held a sort of court, attended by the Tory, nobility, who knew that the king and Mr. Perceval, then minister, were on her side. She kept up considerable style, gave and attended balls and parties, and gathered around her as many lively, witty people as possible, for she had a special aversion to dull ones. In course of time an eccentric and somewhat frivolous set of friends replaced the better class, and had a baneful influence on the princess.

Miss Berry wrote of her at this period: "Her conversation is certainly uncommonly lively, odd, and clever. What a pity that she has not a grain of common sense, not an ounce of ballast to prevent high spirits and a coarse mind running away with her, and allowing her to act indecorously whenever an occasion offers." This is probably a true picture of her; for she was always seeking amusement, and would sacrifice propriety for the sake of getting it. Perhaps she tried in this way to forget her sorrow; but that does not justify her conduct.

Among the most respectable and powerful of the princess's allies were Mr. Canning and Mr. Brougham, both prominent statesmen, who were of great advantage to her for many years.

A.D. 1811. The king's mental condition became so dreadful that at last, after repeated relapses, little hope was entertained of his ultimate recovery, and the Prince of Wales was appointed regent. In celebration of this event, he gave one of the grandest fÊtes at Carlton House that had ever been witnessed in England. It was considered ill-timed, because his father's life hung upon a thread, but the excuse he gave was a popular one; for he said that he desired to benefit those branches of trade which had suffered so long from the discontinuance of court splendor. The queen and her daughters were displeased at the prince's apparent heartlessness, and refused to attend his fÊte; but his brothers were present, also the princess's suite, though she herself was excluded. Princess Charlotte, who had reached her fifteenth year, was also tabooed, and the letter she wrote on the subject to Miss Hayman shows how she felt about it.

"My dear Hamy,—But a few lines, as I will write you a longer one soon again, only to tell you that the prince-regent gives a magnificent ball on the fifth of June. I have not been invited, nor do I know if I shall be or not. If I should not it will make a great noise in the world, as the friends I have seen have repeated over and over again it is my duty to go there; it is proper that I should. Really I do think it will be very hard if I am not asked."

It does seem hard, but it is nevertheless a fact, that this little maiden was not permitted even to be a spectator of all the magnificence displayed at her father's entertainment. The costumes worn by the ladies were all new and splendid, and the supper surpassed any that had ever been given at the other courts. Louis XVIII. and several other members of the French royal family, then in London, attended the ball by special invitation from the prince. The host wore a rich scarlet uniform, with a magnificent badge, diamond aigrette, and jewelled sabre. He received his royal guests in an apartment fitted up for the occasion with rich blue silk, brocaded with fleurs-de-lis in gold. The Grecian Hall was adorned with shrubs and innumerable large lanterns and patent lamps. The floor was carpeted; and two lines composed of Yeomen of the Guard, and the servants of the king, the regent, the queen, and the royal dukes, in their finest liveries, formed an avenue to the octagonal hall where yeomen were also stationed. That hall was decorated with antique drapery of scarlet trimmed with gold, and festooned with gold cords and tassels. A dozen officers and lords received the company. The prince entered the state-rooms with the royal family of France at a quarter past nine. During the evening the prince-regent passed from room to room, and conversed with the utmost cheerfulness and lack of ceremony with his guests. For some time the company amused themselves walking about the halls and apartments, and every one particularly admired the grand circular dining-room, supported by columns of porphyry, and the elegance of the whole of its arrangements. The room in which the throne stood was hung with crimson velvet, with gold lace, and fringes. The canopy of the throne was surmounted by golden helmets, with lofty plumes of ostrich feathers, and underneath stood the state-chair. The ball-room floors were chalked in beautiful arabesque devices and divided for two sets of dancers by crimson silk cord; but the weather was so warm that little dancing took place in any of the rooms. At two o'clock the supper was announced, and the company, preceded by the prince and the French royal family, descended the grand staircase to the temporary buildings that had been erected on the lawn. Passing through a grotto lined with shrubs and flowers, they came to a grand table, extending the whole length of the conservatory, which was two hundred feet. Along the centre of the table, about six inches above the surface, a canal of pure water flowed from a silver fountain, beautifully constructed at the head of the table. Its banks were covered with green moss and aquatic flowers, while gold and silver fish swam up and down in the current. At the head of the

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table, above the fountain sat the prince-regent, with his most particular friends on either side of him. They were attended by sixty waiters; seven served the prince, besides six of the queen's, and six of the king's footmen in state liveries, and one man in a complete suit of ancient armor. At the back of the prince's seat were elevated stands, so arranged as to exhibit to the greatest advantage exquisitely wrought silver-plate, and near the ceiling was a royal crown, and his majesty's cipher, G. R., splendidly illuminated. There was also an immense side-board covered with gold urns, vases, and salvers, and on the top was a Spanish urn of great value, taken from the 'Invincible Armada.' There were other tables running in various directions, and places for the accommodation of two thousand persons. When the whole company was seated, there was a line of female beauty more richly adorned, and a blaze of jewelry more brilliant than was ever displayed before in England. Bands of music were stationed at various points, and performed choice selections. The upper servants wore a costume of dark blue with gold lace trimmings, and the assistants were dressed in black suits with white vests. All the tureens, dishes, and plates were of silver. There were hot soups, roasts, entrÉes, and all sorts of fine, well-cooked viands, a profusion of peaches, grapes, pine-apples, and all other fruits in and out of season. There was iced champagne at every three or four seats, and other wines in great plenty. The ropes that supported the tent were gilded and ornamented with no end of wreaths and festoons of flowers.

The next day the public were admitted to view the decorations, which was considered a mark of great good nature on the part of the prince. The crush was so tremendous on that occasion, and the excitement so great, that when the gates were thrown open many women were knocked down and trodden upon. Many fainted, shrieks and cries filled the air, limbs were broken, and clothing torn from the backs of people. At last, after a great deal of mischief had been done, the Duke of Clarence came forward and made a speech, which had the effect of tranquillizing the mob.