another point of view from what you do; I love my daughter above all things, and would do any thing in the world for her; but I must go to Carlton House." Lady G[] continued in earnest converse and entreaty with her for two hours, but nothing appeared to move the old lady from her determination. When weary and worn, the ambassadress was about to depart, the Duchess cried out-" No, no; tell her I love her of all things, but give her no hopes on this subject. The Princess has a jewel in you; you have done your embassy well; but give her no hopes."

"Eh bien!" said the Princess, continuing her narration of this curious scene, and drawing her breath as she usually does when she is angry, "I gave the matter up, and thought that, like many other things, it could not be helped; when the next day I received a letter from my mother saying, 'Far be it from me to do anything contrary to your interests; and hearing that there is a doubt upon the subject, I shall not go to Carlton House.' This resolve astonished me as much as my mother's previous determination, and I immediately wrote to say how grateful I was to her ; in proof of which, I begged to dine with her the next day, and added that I should take no notice of what had passed." Accordingly," she continued, "nothing was said upon the subject, and there the business ended; but was there ever such an idea entered a mother's head!" added the Princess. "It was so evidently a trap, that was set to inveigle the poor old Duchess into a tacit condemnation of me!"

The one half of human life is generally passed in giving oneself wounds, the other in healing them. Lady M[— -], whom I conveyed in my carriage to her lone empty house, left a sadness in my mind. She has not perhaps one real friend among all the numerous worldly persons calling themselves such, for whom she has sacrificed her affections and her life. Her tastes are of the most

extravagant kind, and above her fortune, and her mind has been too long suffered to waste itself in desultory pursuits after phantoms, to be able to recover its tone, and derive from its own resources that interest which the world can neither give nor take away. Yet I think her case peculiarly hard. Lady H[-] ought never to have forsaken her. But she is one of the many who have loved and lived in vain.

I was sent for to Kensington: found her Royal Highness talking to Dr. Moseley and Lady A[nne] H[amilto]n.* I overheard her say to the latter, "Now, dear Lady Anne, take Dr. Moseley and show him the apartments above stairs." I undertsood what that meant, and that my visit must be tête-à-tête. I trembled, for I fear it is in vain to do her any good. She came to me; and having spoken a few phrases on different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes to have published:—her whole correspondence with the Prince relative to Lady J[ersey]'s dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the Princess; and, finally, the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland, &c., at the time of the secret inquiry, -when, if proof could have been brought against her, it certainly would have been done; and which acquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to the justice of the nation in general, was not made public at the time. A common criminal is publicly condemned or acquitted. Her Royal Highness commanded me to have these letters published forthwith, saying, "You may sell them for a great sum." At first, (for she had spoken to me before, concerning this business,) I thought

* Lady Anne Hamilton (1766-1846), one of the maids of honour to the Princess of Wales, eldest daughter of Archibald, 9th Duke of Hamilton. She was the "Lank Lady Anne" of Theodore Hook's scurrilous songs. To her great distress, a book, "Secret History of the Court of England from the Accession of George III. to the Death of George IV.," full of scandalous anecdotes about the Court, was published in 1832 under her name, but it is generally supposed to have been inspired by Mary Anne Clarke, the former mistress of the Duke of York.

of availing myself of the opportunity; but, upon second thoughts, I turned from this idea with detestation; for, if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavouring to serve her, I will do so at least from good and disinterested motives, not from any sordid views. The Princess commands me, and I will obey her, whatever may be the issue, but not for fare or fee. I own, I tremble, but not so much for myself as for the idea that she is not taking the best and most dignified way of having these papers published.—Why make a secret of it at all? If wrong, it should not be done; if right, it should be done openly and in the face of her enemies. In her Royal Highness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, why do they shrink from straightforward dealings, and rather have recourse to crooked policy? I wish in this particular instance I could make her Royal Highness feel thus; but she is naturally indignant at being falsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation. She wishes her cause to be espoused by others. This appears to me a very false pride. But were I to propose to her Royal Highness to place this affair in other and abler hands than my own, she would suppose that I shrink from the task. Now, that is not the case; whatever imprudence there may be, there is no dishonour in the service I am about to render her; let me not, therefore, seem to wish to avoid it.

Shortly after, for some reason or other, which never came to my knowledge, I was spared all further anxiety upon the subject, as other parties stepped forward, and her Royal Highness, knowing that I would not profit by the transaction, permitted her papers to be placed in their hands.

Friday, October 21st.-Yesterday, the melancholy Lady M[-] came to see me. I was obliged to go to Kensington by appointment, so I could not take Lady M[——]

with me in the carriage, and she walked away on foot. I was quite grieved at heart for her. She was more depressed in spirit than ever. When I arrived at the palace, her Royal Highness was standing at the window, evidently awaiting my arrival impatiently. She finished reading to me the rest of the papers and correspondence, which occupy at present so much of her thoughts.-I have never known a more extraordinary person than the Princess. She writes occasionally with much spirit, and many of the copies of her letters to the Prince are both clever and touching. Sometimes, there is a series of exalted sentiment in what she says and does, that quite astonishes me, and makes me rub my eyes and open my ears, to know if it is the same person who condescends to talk low nonsense, and sometimes even gross ribaldry. One day, I think her all perfection—another, I know not what to think. The tissue of her character is certainly more uneven than that of any other person I was ever acquainted with. One day, there is tinsel and tawdry— another, worsted-another, silk and satin-another, gold and jewels-another de la boue, de la crasse, que dirai-je ? et peut-être j'ai trop dit.

I have so often determined to write a consecutive journal, and have so often failed, not from idleness, which is not my besetting sin, but from the danger of telling all I think-all I know—that I have shrunk back into silence, and thought it better, wiser perhaps, to forget entirely the passing events of the day, than to record them.

I

After the examination of the papers, I was desired to remain during luncheon. Lady A[nne] H[amilton was the lady-in-waiting, and she was sent for to attend. believe the Princess has told the whole story to her, and as she is very fond of secrets, I make no doubt she has heard them all in their details. Then there are other ladies who, I shrewdly suspect, have also been admitted

to this confidence. Most women, indeed, think a secret not worth knowing, if one may not tell it to a dozen or two intimate friends. To own the truth, I am a very bad hand at keeping secrets myself, and my best chance of doing so is the great facility with which I forget them. Nothing that does not interest my heart, or my passions, has any great hold on my imagination or thoughts. I am only vulnerable through my affections. My weal and woe lie all in that quarter; what then can it have in common with a court ?

Saturday, the 28th October, 1811.-Yesterday, Sir Walter F[arquhar] came and told me a curious conversation which he had held the night before with the Prince Regent. "Well, Farquhar, so you were paying your court to the Princess of Wales at Tonbridge, I hear?" (alluding to the day he went there last May, when she spoke to Sir Walter.) The Baronet :-" Yes, Sir, her Royal Highness was very gracious to me, and I thought it my duty to shew the Princess of Wales every respect; but I did not stay to supper, though she was graciously pleased to invite me; because I thought, if your Royal Highness heard of it, you might not have been pleased." Regent-" What did she say to you?" "She asked me, Sir, why I had not advised the Princess Charlotte to go to the sea side for change of air,-saying 'it would do her Royal Highness a great deal of good,' and insisted upon it that I ought to do so." "And what did you reply?" eagerly questioned the Prince. "I replied, Sir, that when I had last the honour of seeing her Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte, she was in such perfect health that she appeared not to require any medical advice; consequently, it would be highly improper that I should interfere. 'Oh, Sir Walter F[arquhar],' rejoined the Princess of Wales, 'you are a courtier'; and we both laughed." Regent-" Was that all?"-" Yes, Sir, that