In contrast with this account of an eye-witness stands the deposition of Lady Anne Hamilton, a passage from whose suppressed book may be cited rather than credited. It reflects, however, much of the popular opinion of that and a far later period. ‘In the meantime,’ writes the lady just named, ‘the Earl of Abercorn informed the princess of the previous marriage of the King, and of the existence of his Majesty’s wife; and Lord Hardwicke advised the princess to well inform herself of the policy of the kingdom, as a measure for preventing much future disturbance in the country, as well as securing an uninterrupted possession of the throne to her issue. Presuming, therefore, that the German princess had hitherto been an open and ingenuous character, such expositions, intimations, and dark mysteries were ill-calculated to nourish honourable feelings, but would rather operate as a check to their further existence. To the public eye the newly married pair were contented with each other; alas! it was because each feared an exposure to the nation. The King reproached himself that he had not fearlessly avowed the only wife of his affections; the Queen, because she feared an explanation that the King was guilty of _bigamy_, and thereby her claim, as also that of her progeny (if she should have any), would be known to be illegitimate. It appears as if the result of those reflections formed a basis for the misery of millions, and added to that number millions yet unborn.’ This probably is solemn nonsense, as it is certainly indifferent English. We get back to comic truth, at least, in an anecdote told by Cumberland, of Bubb Dodington, who, ‘when he paid his court at St. James’s to her Majesty, upon her nuptials, approached to kiss her hand, decked in an embroidered suit of silk, with lilac waistcoat and breeches, the latter of which, in the act of kneeling down, forgot their duty, and broke loose from their moorings in a very indecorous and uncourtly manner.’ As for the forsaken Ariadne, Lady Sarah Lennox was very soon united to Sir Charles Bunbury; and subsequently to Colonel George Napier, by whom she became mother of ‘the Napiers’, one of whom used to speak sneeringly of George IV. as his ‘cousin.’ Lady Sarah’s old royal lover never made any secret of his admiration of her. The last time he was ever at the play with Queen Charlotte, he remarked to her, of one of the most accomplished of actresses, ‘Miss Pope is still like Lady Sarah!’