I felt a wish to express something of the kindly feeling I felt towards him: but, I know not why, in her presence, who ought to have felt so much more and who seemed to feel so little, I felt chilled, and remained silent. I have often thought of that moment since with regret. When the Duke was fairly gone, however, she shed a few tears, and said emphatically, “I shall never see him more!”’ The early part of 1814 was spent by the Princess in lowness of spirit and littleness of pursuits. Miss Berry speaks of the mournful ‘house-warming’ by which the Princess inaugurated her tenancy some time before:--On the 1st of December she writes, ‘We both of us (the two sisters) dined with the Princess in Connaught Place, the first time she had given a dinner in her new home, which is still all upside down. The company consisted only of Gell and Craven, who arrived in town to-day, Lady C. Campbell and Lady C. Lindsay in waiting. The Princess was particularly melancholy; wept when speaking to me of herself, confessed herself entirely overwhelmed with her situation and her prospects for the future. On the 30th the aspect was not gay. Dined at the Princess’s. There were only Mr. Craven, Little Willy (Austin) and a young playfellow of his, and Lady Orme. These dinners become insupportable. The dulness makes me almost ill in the course of a long evening, only interrupted by the Princess’s singing with Mr. Craven, which is a screeching of which no idea can be formed without hearing it.’ The Princess was now established in Connaught Place, near the Edgeware Road; the mansion is that now numbered ‘7’ Connaught Place. She seldom saw her daughter, and did not consult her own dignity by taking ‘strolls’ across the fields in the direction of the canal, or by ridiculing the Regent at her own dinner-table. It was this sort of conduct which made people account of her as being worse than she really was. For London, it was a year of triumphs and congratulations, but she shared in neither; it was the year of sovereigns, when European potentates crowded our streets, and passed by the house of the Princess without inquiring for her. In June, mortification was heaped upon her. She had an undoubted right to be present at the drawing-rooms held by the Queen; but her Majesty, who had announced her intention to hold two in honour of the foreign monarchs then in England, announced to the Princess that she would not be permitted to be present at either. No other ground for this expulsion was alleged than the Regent’s will. His Royal Highness had declared that never again would he meet her, either in public or in private, and consequently her appearance on the occasions in question could not be permitted for a moment. She had prepared a letter of indignant remonstrance, but Mr. Whitbread counselled her not to forward it, but rather to write one in a submissive tone, accepting with humility the ill-treatment to which she was thus subjected.