it either ill or seriously... How much should I have been discountenanced had her majesty turned about and perceived him; yet by no means so much disconcerted as by a similar Cerberic situation; since the queen who, when in spirits, is gay and sportive herself, would be much farther removed from any hazard of misconstruction."* Nor was this the only "pleasant" incident of the year. It was not long after the above, that Lady Effingham, at Windsor, exclaimed to the queen : "Oh, Ma'am, I had the greatest fright this morning. I saw a huge something on Sir George's throat. Why, Sir George,' says I, 'what's that? a wen?' 'Yes,' says he, 'countess, I've had it three and twenty years.' However, I hear it's now going about-so I hope your majesty will be careful ?"

6

One more court incident of this year will afford us a specimen of playfulness as understood by the Prince of Wales. The latter was at Windsor with the Duke of York, who had just returned from the continent, after an absence from England of seven years. His return caused great joy both to the king and queen; but it was not a joy of long enduring.

"At near one o'clock in the morning, while the wardrobe-woman was pinning up the queen's hair, there was a sudden rap-tap at the dressing-room door. Extremely surprised, I looked at the queen, to see what should be done; she did not speak. I had never heard such a sound before, for at the royal doors, there is always a particular kind of scratch used, instead of tapping. I heard it however again, and the queen called out: 'What is that?' I was really startled, not conceiving who could take so strange a liberty as to come to the queen's apartment without the announcing of a page; and no page, I was very sure, would make such a noise. Again the sound was repeated, and more smartly. I grew quite alarmed, imagining some serious evil at hand, either regarding the king, or some of the princesses. The queen, however, bid me open the door. I did; and what was my surprise to see there a large man, in an immense wrapping great-coat, buttoned up round his chin, so that he was almost hid between cape and hat. I stood quite

* Miss Burney's Diary.

motionless for a moment ;—but he, as if also surprised, drew back; I felt quite sick with sudden terror-I really thought some ruffian had broken into the house, or a madman. 'Who is it?' cried the queen. 'I do not know, ma'am,' I answered. "Who is it?' she called aloud, and then, taking off his hat, entered the Prince of Wales. The queen laughed very much, and so did I too, happy in this unexpected explanation. He told her eagerly, he only came to inform her there were the most beautiful northern lights to be seen that could possibly be imagined, and begged her to come to the gallery windows."

CHAPTER VII.

SHADOWS IN THE SUNSHINE.

66

ONE event of this year brings us back to the persons and memories of the age of Caroline. Three-quarters of a century had passed away since the day when the then little Princess Amelia Sophia, who was born in Hanover, arrived in London, some three years old, at the period when her parents ascended the throne of England. She was an accomplished and a high-spirited girl, and grew into an attractive and "loveable woman. No prince, however, ever came to the feet of Amelia Sophia, to sun himself beneath that lady's eyes." She did not, nevertheless, want for lovers of a lower dignity. Walpole, in allusion to this, states of her that she was 66 as disposed to meddle" in state matters as her elder sister Anne; and that "she was confined to receiving court from the Duke of Newcastle, who affected to be in love with her; and from the Duke of Grafton, in whose connection with her there was more reality."

The latter connection is said to have been more romantic than platonic. The princess and the duke were given to riding out in company; conversing together in the recesses of windows; keeping together when out hunting, and occasionally losing themselves to

* Miss Burney's Diary.

gether in Windsor Forest, and other places convenient for lovers to lose themselves in. This last incident in the love passages of the princess's life, afforded great opportunity for good-natured gossips to indulge in joking, and for ill-natured gossips to indulge in affectedly indignant reproof. The princess troubled herself very little with the remarks of others on her conduct. It was only when Queen Caroline was worked upon by the ill-natured gossips to notice and to censure the intimacy which existed between her and the duke, that Amelia took the matter somewhat to heart, and wept as a young lady in such circumstances was likely to do, at finding a violent end put to her violent delights. The queen, indeed, threatened to lay the matter before the king, and it is said that it was only through the good and urgent offices of Sir Robert Walpole that so extreme a course was not taken.

Like her sister Anne, Amelia was rather imperious in disposition, and she never found but one man who openly withstood her. That man was Beau Nash. The Beau had fixed eleven o'clock at which dancing should cease in the rooms at Bath, where he was despotic master of the ceremonies. On one occasion, when the princess was present, the hour had struck, and Nash had raised his jewelled finger, in token that the music was to stop, and the ladies were to "sit down and cool," as the Beau delicately expressed it. The imperious daughter of Caroline was not disposed to end the evening so early, and intimated to the Master her gracious pleasure that there should be another country dance. Nash looked at her with the sort of mingled surprise and horror with which the parish overseer is said to have contemplated Oliver Twist when he asked for "more." He laughed an agitated laugh, shook all the powder out of his wig in signifying his decided refusal, and muttering something about the laws of the Medes and Persians, set down the princess as a rather ill-bred person.

In her way, she was as imperious as Nash; and as Ranger of Richmond Park she was as despotic as the Beau within his more artificial territory at Bath. She kept the Park closed, sacred to the pleasure and retirement of royalty and the favored few. There were, however, some dreadfully democratic persons at Richmond, who had a most obstinate conviction that the public had a right of

passage through the Park, and they demanded that the right should be allowed them. The royal ranger peremptorily refused. Democratic cobblers immediately went to law with her, and proved that the right was with them. The princess yielded to the counsel of her own legal advisers, and, allowing the right of passage, made a very notable concession; she planted ricketty ladders against the walls, and bade the ladies and gentlemen of the vicinity pass through the Park, as they best could by such means. But the persevering people maintained that if they had right of passage, the right must be construed in a common-sense way, and that passage implied a pass or gate by which such passage might be made. The royal lady thought the world was coming to an end, when the vulgar dared thus to "keep standing on their rights" in presence of a princess. She was in some measure correct; for the age of feudal royalty was coming to a close, and that great shaking-up of equality was beginning, from which royalty has never perfectly recovered. The troublesome people, accordingly, kept most vexatiously to the point, and, after a fierce struggle, they compelled their ranger to set open a gate whereby they might have free and constant access to their own Park. Had this daughter of Caroline been a wise woman, she would have cheerfully gone through this gate with the people, and so, sharing in their triumph, would have won their love. But "Emily," as she was often called, was of quite another metal, and was so disgusted at the victory achieved by the vulgar, that she threw up her office in disgust, and declared that the downfall of England commenced with the opening of Richmond Park.

The princess offended more persons than the mere democracy, by her arrogance as ranger. The evidence of Walpole is conclusive on this subject, and is worth citing, often as I have had to quote from his lively pages. In 1752, he writes:-"Princess Emily, who succeeded my brother in the rangership of Richmond Park, has imitated her brother William's unpopularity, and disobliged the whole country, by refusal of tickets, and liberties that had always been allowed. They are at law with her, and have printed in the Evening Post a strong memorial, which she had refused to receive. The High-sheriff of Surrey, to whom she had denied a

ticket, but on better thought had sent one, refused it, and said he had taken his part. Lord Brooke, who had applied for one, was told he couldn't have one; and, to add to the affront, it was signified that the princess had refused one to my Lord Chancellor. Your old nobility don't understand such comparisons. But the most remarkable event happened to her about three weeks ago. One Mr. Bird, a rich gentleman near the palace, was applied to by the late queen for a piece of ground that lay convenient for a walk she was making. He replied, that it was not proper for him to pretend to make a queen a present, but if she would do what she pleased with the ground, he would be content with the acknowledgment of a key and two bucks a year. This was religiously observed till the era of her royal highness's reign. The bucks were denied, and he himself once shut out, on pretence it was fence month (the breeding-time, when tickets used to be excluded, keys never). The princess was soon after going through his grounds to town. She found a padlock on his gate. She ordered it to be broken open. Mr. Shaw, her deputy, begged a respite, till he could go for the key. He found Mr. Bird at home. Lord, sir, here is a strange mistake. The princess is at the gate, and it is padlocked.' 'Mistake! no mistake at all. I made the road; the ground is my own property. Her royal highness has thought fit to break the agreement which her royal mother made with me; nobody goes through my grounds but those I choose should.' Translate this to your Florentines," adds Walpole to our legate in Tuscany; "try if you can make them conceive how pleasant it is to treat blood royal thus."

George II., who was more liberal, in many respects, than any of his children, save when these affected liberality for political purposes, finally anticipated the award of law by ordering the Park to be thrown open to the public, in the month of December, 1752. But he could not have kept it closed.

Walpole speaks of the Princess Amelia as if he had never forgotten or forgiven this, or any other of her faults. According to his description, she was for ever prying impertinently into the affairs of other people; sillily garrulous, and importantly communicative of trifles not worth the telling. He paints her as arrogant