In the year 1836 my eldest brother was married to Miss Ogle, in my opinion the most beautiful bride I have ever seen, before or since. They came to reside with us for a time, but the arrangement did not last long, and they went abroad and settled in Paris. The year 1837 was one of great sorrow for my sister, and indeed for all of us, as the health of her dear kind master, William the Fourth, began to fail. In the month of May I went with my mother to pay a visit of a few days to Princess Mary, Duchess of Gloucester, at her house in Park Lane. We had been more than once the guests of this dear and kind Princess, at her delightful residence at Bagshot Park, but this was the first time I had slept under her hospitable roof in London. She was a most gracious lady, and full of delightful old-world anecdotes of her father’s court, and ever ready to appreciate and to promulgate a joke or a good story. [Sidenote: MRS JORDAN] I would sit and listen with gratitude to all she had to tell me of old days. I had a great admiration (what in the modern vernacular is called a “cult”) for the talent of Mrs Jordan, although it was only inspired by hearsay, as she was before my time. My mother had often told me that she would have considered it worth her while to go to the theatre, merely to hear the silvery ringing laugh of that actress behind the scenes, even if she had not waited for the performance of the play. I spoke of Mrs Jordan to the Duchess, and she told me she quite concurred in my mother’s opinion. She also gave me a very interesting account of accompanying her royal parents to the play one night, when the actress in question was to perform one of her favourite characters. “I was much excited, my dear Mary,” said the Duchess, “at the prospect of seeing the woman in whom I knew my brother William was deeply interested; but that evening was destined to be one of terrible excitement.” It was the occasion on which the king’s life was attempted in the theatre. His escape was miraculous, and as he was most popular with his subjects, the alarm and consternation, with the subsequent enthusiasm and rejoicing of the audience, baffled all description. The performance was interrupted, the National Anthem loudly demanded, and the king vociferously called for, having to bow his thanks from the front of the Royal Box. When Mrs Jordan made her appearance her reception was warmer than usual, and, connected as she was with the interests of the Royal family, her excitement and agitation were such that she fairly broke down, and burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing, which did not help to calm down the general ferment of the evening. It was during our visit at Gloucester House that William the Fourth’s health failed, and, his days being numbered, all eyes were fixed on his young successor, Princess Victoria.