With all the solemnity, there was some riot. A passage from a letter written by one James Heming (quoted in ‘Notes and Queries,’ 2nd S., V. II., p. 109) says: ‘Our friend Harry, who was upon the scaffold at the return of the procession, closed in with the rear; at the expense of half a guinea was admitted into the Hall; got brimful of his Majesty’s claret, and in the universal plunder, brought off the glass her Majesty drank in, which is placed in the _beaufet_ as a valuable curiosity.’ There was long a tradition current, that among the spectators at the great ceremony in the Hall was no less a person than the Young Pretender, who was said to have been there _incognito_, and not without some hope of seeing the gauntlet, defiantly thrown down by the champion, taken up by some bold adherent of his cause. Indeed, it is further reported that preparation had been made for such an attempt, but that (fortunately) it accidentally failed. The Pretender, so runs the legend, was recognised by a nobleman, who, standing near him, whispered in his ear that he was the last person anybody would expect to find there. ‘I am here simply out of curiosity,’ was the answer of the wanderer; ‘but I assure you that the man who is the object of all this pomp and magnificence is the person in the world whom I least envy.’ To complete the chain of reports, it may be further noticed that Charles Edward was said to have abjured Romanism, in the new church in the Strand, in the year 1754. The night after the coronation there was an unusually grand ball at court. The Queen’s bride’s-maids danced in the white bodiced coats they had worn at the wedding. The Duke of Ancaster was resplendent in the dress which the King had worn the whole of the day before at the coronation, and which he had graciously ordered to be presented to the duke, whose wife was the Queen’s mistress of the robes! The King and Queen retired at eleven o’clock; not an early hour for the period.