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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