When first she saw the palace she trembled. The Duchess of Hamilton smiled. The Queen said, “You may laugh; you have been married twice; but it is no joke to me.” The King received her in the garden of St. James’s; she would have kneeled, but he raised and embraced her, and led her to the Princess, where they and Lady Augusta dined together. Between nine and ten at night they went to chapel. The Duke of Cumberland gave her away; and after the ceremony they appeared for a few minutes in the drawing-room, and then went to supper. She played and sung, for music was her passion, but she loved other amusements too, and had been accustomed to them; but excepting her music, all the rest were retrenched; nor was she[109] ever suffered to play at cards, which she loved. While she was dressing, she was told the King liked some particular manner of dress. She said, “Let him dress himself; I shall dress as I please.” They told her he liked early hours; she replied, she did not, and “qu’elle ne voulait pas se coucher avec les poules.” A few weeks taught her how little power she had acquired with a Crown. The affection she conceived for the King softened the rigour of her captivity. Yet now and then a sigh stole out, and now and then she attempted, though in vain, to enlarge her restraint. What must have penetrated deeper, was, that policy did not seem to be the sole motive of the mortifications she endured. At times there entered a little wantonness of power into the Princess’s treatment of her. The King made her frequent presents of magnificent jewels; and as if diamonds were empire, she was never allowed to appear in public without them. The first time she received the sacrament, she begged not to wear them, one pious command of her mother having been, not to use jewels at her first communion. The King indulged her; but Lady Augusta carrying this tale to her mother, the Princess obliged the King to insist on the jewels, and the poor young Queen’s tears and terrors could not dispense with her obedience. Previous to the Coronation the vacant Bishopricks were bestowed. The Archbishoprick of York was given to Dr. Drummond;[110] and Hayter[111] of Norwich, who had been disgraced with Lord Harcourt, was, by the interest of the same patron, Lord Talbot, promoted to the See of London. Newcastle vehemently opposed it, and solicited for Thomas of Lincoln,[112] but received this thundering sentence from Lord Bute:--“If Thomas is such a favourite with your Grace, why did not you prefer him when you had the power?” The Duke, however, obtained the mitre of Norwich for Dr. Yonge; and being bidden to observe that the King’s answer to the address of Oxford on his marriage was kinder than that to Cambridge, he replied, it is true; but two of the new Bishops are Cambridge men--so easily did he comfort himself even with the shadow of power!