It was creditable to the Princess Amelia that Lady Wigtown’s rudeness made no difference to her courtesy to the other Jacobites and Roman Catholics, of whom just then Bath was full. Acting under instruction from her mother, she had a gracious word and a smile for all of them who came her way. Among others were the unfortunate Lord Widdrington and his lady. Lord Widdrington was one of the Jacobite peers condemned to death for the part they had taken in the rising of ’15, but he was ultimately pardoned, though his estates were forfeited. He brought his broken health and ruined fortunes to Bath, where he was living in comparative poverty when the Princess Amelia came there. The Princess noticed Lady Widdrington in the Pump Room, and asked who she was. When she was told she talked to her, walked with her, and generally took much notice of her. “Her kindness,” writes Lady Pomfret, “had such an effect upon all that sort [Jacobites] in this city that is hardly to be imagined, and they all speak of the Princess Amelia as of something that has charmed them ever since.” But another lady in waiting, Mrs. Tichburne, was perturbed lest the Princess’s graciousness to a “rebel’s wife” should be misunderstood, and Lady Pomfret thought well to ask Mrs. Clayton to explain matters to the Queen. She need not have troubled, for the Princess had only done as the Queen wished. It is a pity that we cannot take leave of the Princess Amelia with this pleasing illustration of her amiability. But truth compels us to add that as she grew older her character sadly deteriorated. She developed into a hard, mean, inquisitive woman, and was often insolent without provocation. Perhaps this was due to the crossing of her young affections, and her nature, driven back upon itself, grew warped in the cramped atmosphere of the court. In later life Bath continued to be a favourite resort of the Princess Amelia, for here she could indulge in her love of cards and scandal without let or hindrance; she used to play night after night for very high stakes, refreshing herself with pinches of snuff during the game. One night when she was playing in the public card room at Bath an old general, who was seated next her, ventured to take a pinch of snuff out of her box, which stood by him on the table. She haughtily stared at him without making any remark, and then beckoning to her footman, ordered him to throw the snuff in the fire and bring her a fresh box. Little peculiarities like this did not tend to make her popular, and she grew to be generally disliked. She lived far into the reign of her nephew George the Third, and died unmarried.