the bitterest rancour. Indeed, nothing could exceed the frivolity of the
great, except their impertinence. For want of better amusements, it had
become the fashion to make conundrums, and to have printed books full of
them, which were produced at parties. But these were peaceful
diversions. The following anecdote is worthy of the times of George II.
and of Frederick of Wales:--

'There is a very good quarrel,' Horace writes, 'on foot, between two
duchesses: she of Queensberry sent to invite Lady Emily Lenox to a ball:
her grace of Richmond, who is wonderfully cautious since Lady Caroline's
elopement (with Mr. Fox), sent word "she could not determine." The other
sent again the same night: the same answer. The Queensberry then sent
word, that she had made up her company, and desired to be excused from
having Lady Emily's; but at the bottom of the card wrote, "Too great
trust." There is no declaration of war come out from the other duchess:
but I believe it will be made a national quarrel of the whole
illegitimate royal family.'

Her Grace of Queensberry, Prior's 'Kitty, beautiful and young,' lorded
it, with a tyrannical hand, over the court. Her famed loveliness was, it
is true, at this time on the wane. Her portrait delineating her in her
bib and tucker, with her head rolled back underneath a sort of half cap,
half veil, shows how intellectual was the face to which such incense was
paid for years. Her forehead and eyebrows are beautiful: her eyes soft
though lively in expression: her features refined. She was as whimsical
in her attire as in her character. When, however, she chose to appear as
the _grande dame_, no one could cope with her, Mrs. Delany describes her
at the Birth-day,--her dress of white satin, embroidered with vine
leaves, convolvuluses, rose-buds, shaded after nature; but she, says her
friend, 'was _so far_ beyond the master-_piece of art_ that one could