She was particularly fond of music, but latterly could not bear the sound of a pianoforte even in another room. The Princess Augusta thereupon gave her a bird which sang very sweetly, and with a very soft note, and she took pleasure in listening to it. When the king saw his beloved daughter for the last time, she said to him, “Remember me, but do not grieve for me.” Alas! the king was soon no longer himself. Her illness and the loss of Hanover preyed sadly upon his mind.
I shall never forget the last evening of my seeing him. It was the anniversary of his accession. The whole family, except the Queen of Würtemberg[103] and dear Princess Amelia, were present when he entered the room, the queen holding his arm. As he went round the circle as usual, it was easy to perceive the dreadful excitement in his countenance. As he could not distinguish persons, it was the custom to speak to him as he approached, that he might recognise by the voice whom he was about to address. I forget what it was I said to him, but shall ever remember what he said to me: “You are not uneasy, I am sure, about Amelia. You are not to be deceived, but you know that she is in no danger.” At the same time he squeezed my hand with such force that I could scarcely help crying out.[104] The queen, however, dragged him away. When tea was served, I perceived how much alarmed I had been, for my hand shook so that I could hardly take the cup.
When the king was seated he called to him each of his sons separately, and said things to them equally sublime and instructive, but very unlike what he would have said before so many people had he been conscious of the circumstance. I never did and never will repeat what I then heard, and I sincerely believe that all present felt as I did on that occasion. His Majesty had a long conversation with Count Munster on the affairs of Hanover, so that it could only be understood by those who were acquainted with the German language. I was then convinced of the very deep impression made on him by the fate of that country. On the following evening I was not at the Castle, and it was the last on which he appeared in society.
Princess Amelia expired on the birthday of the Duke of Kent, who had had some dispute with the Duke of York, then commander-in-chief. I was told, however, by Lady Aylesbury, who was in waiting, and had dined quietly with the melancholy party of the royal family, that the Duke of York said to her, in a whisper: “Though this is a sad day, I must drink the health of poor Edward.”