The Kensington promenades were only a small part of the busy Court life of the day. Almost every evening drawing-rooms were held at St. James’s Palace, at which were music and cards. The latter became the rage in season and out of season, and high play was the pastime of every one at Court. On one occasion at the Princess’s court the Prince was “ill of a surfeit” and obliged to keep his bed, so that the ordinary levée could not be held. But he was not to be cheated of his game, and the ladies in waiting were summoned, tables were placed, and they were all set to play at ombre with the lords of the Prince’s bedchamber. And on another occasion Lady Cowper writes of the King’s drawing-room at St. James’s: “There was such a Court I never saw in my life. My mistress and the Duchess of Montagu went halves at hazard and won six hundred pounds. Mr. Archer came in great form to offer me a place at the table, but I laughed and said he did not know me if he thought I was capable of venturing two hundred guineas at play, for none sat down to the table with less.” Deep drinking went with the high play. One George Mayo was one night turned out of the royal presence “for being drunk and saucy. He fell out with Sir James Baker, and in the fray pulled him by the nose.” [Illustration: KING GEORGE I. _From the Painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller in the National Portrait Gallery._] The Court was no longer exclusive as in the days of Queen Anne, almost every one of any station came who would, and in the crowded rooms there was a good deal of pushing and hustling to get within sight of the Royal Family. The Venetian ambassadress, Madame Tron, a very lively lady, was so hustled one night that she kept crying, “Do not touch my face,” and she cried so loud that the King heard her, and turning to a courtier behind him said: “Don’t you hear the ambassadress? She offers you all the rest of her body provided you don’t touch her face.” A pleasantry truly Georgian. These crowded drawing-rooms were a great change to what St. James’s was in Queen Anne’s time, where, according to Dean Swift, who gives us an account of one of her receptions, “the Queen looked at us with a fan in her mouth, and once a minute said about three words to some one who was near her. Then she was told dinner was ready and went out.” Now every event in the Royal Family was made the pretext for further gaiety. “This day, 30th October” [1714], writes Lady Cowper, “was the Prince’s birthday; I never saw the Court so splendidly fine. The evening concluded with a ball, which the Prince and Princess began. She danced in slippers very well; the Prince better than anybody.”