The summer was filled with peace festivities. The Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and some of the Prussian Generals—Blucher among them—visited England, and were in the Park on many occasions. The Sunday crowd went mad at seeing them; in fact, many casualties were caused in the excitement when they were on their way to Kensington. The following Sunday a great review was held—the most brilliant ever witnessed—but the culmination of the festivities was the Great Fair. Commencing on 31st July, 1814, no amusement was lacking, the chief show being a miniature naval engagement on the Serpentine. Extravagance, however, seems to have reigned supreme. During the week the fair lasted it cost the country £40,000. The “Reminiscences” of Captain Gronow give many details of this time. A group of dandies was always to be found in the gay society of the Prince Regent, his chief friends being Beau Brummel, the Duke of Argyll, Lord Worcester, Lord Alvanley, Lord Foley, and others. The most beautiful ladies were the Duchess of Rutland, the Duchess of Gordon, the Duchess of Bedford, and the Duchess of Argyll; Lady Cowper,—afterwards Lady Palmerston,—and the lovely daughters of the Marquis of Anglesea. Lady Cowper inherited her mother’s talent as a leader of Society—especially political Society,—while other brilliant hostesses were Lady Castlereagh, the Countess of Jersey, Lady Sefton, Princess Esterhazy, and the Countess Lieven. [Illustration: Jubilee Fair in Hyde Park in 1814. After the fall of Napoleon. _From a Print in the Crace Collection, British Museum._] It was a distinguished gathering still that was seen in Hyde Park at five o’clock in the afternoons, the ladies driving in their _vis-à-vis_, with their gorgeously embroidered hammer-cloths, be-wigged coachmen and resplendent footmen, while the dandies rode their smart horses and bedecked themselves with blue coats, leather breeches, top-boots, and wonderful stiff white cravats. To these men Beau Brummel was the motive power, the beginning and the end of their existence, and Brummel’s tailor was only second to the beau himself. Truly Hyde Park has an unparalleled record. For four hundred years the makers of history, politicians, beauty, nobility, bravery—and knavery, alas!—have all tendered homage to the charm of its acres, its noble trees, its grassy sward. Generation after generation has proclaimed love for it; and now, indeed, what would the babies and the beauties do without the famous stretch from Marble Arch to Piccadilly? But it is the fate of humanity that in the gayest scenes of life dark Tragedy will thrust her hand, and in the midst of this wonderful assembly in 1816 spread the news that Harriet Westbrook, the wife of the poet Shelley, had committed suicide in the Serpentine.