The margrave, on the sale of his principality, resolved to spend his days with his wife in England. They had no sooner arrived, however, than the storm of family and public indignation which had been brewing against the margravine burst upon her head. She received a letter from her three daughters, saying, "with due deference to the Margravine of Anspach, the Miss Cravens inform her that, out of respect to their father, they cannot wait upon her," and her eldest son, Lord Craven, refused to countenance her. The margrave received a message from the queen, through the Prussian minister, to the effect that his wife, though she had received a diploma from the emperor, could not be received at court as a princess of the empire. She says that she refused to derogate from her dignity by appearing merely as a peeress of England; but it is not clear that she would have been received in that capacity. She addressed a memorial on the subject to the House of Lords, but they gave her no redress; indeed it would not have been consistent with the practice of that body to interfere on such an occasion. Soon after their arrival, the margrave purchased through trustees, Lord Craven's estate of Benham, and the mansion of Brandenburgh House, a place celebrated as afterwards affording a retreat to Queen Caroline, the wife of George IV. Until the margrave's death in 1806, it was a scene of continued profusion and gayety, in which the luxuries and amusements of an English mansion were united with those of a German court, "My whole enjoyment," says the margravine, "during the margrave's valuable life, was to do every thing in my power, to make him not only comfortable, but happy. Under my management, the world imagined that he spent double his income." Her attachment to her second husband was strong. She speaks of him with an enthusiasm and devotion which bear the stamp of sincerity. "I believe," she says, "a better man never existed. There never was a being who could act upon more sincere principles. Nothing could divert him from what was right. None could bear with patience, like himself, the ill conduct of those to whom he was attached. None could more easily forgive." After his decease, the margravine, who succeeded to the large property which he left, felt impatient to recommence her wanderings. On the restoration she sailed for France, and, after being interrupted in her movements by the reign of the hundred days, reached Rome, where it was said that she kept open house for all the revolutionists of all countries who chose to accept her hospitalities. The King of Naples afterwards presented her with a small estate, in which she built a palace, where she resided till her death, which occurred on January 13, 1828. Only two years previously, and when she was seventy-six years old, she surprised and delighted the English world by the publication of her well-known memoirs. This work is perhaps one of the best examples of the French memoirs which English literature possesses. It is indeed thoroughly French, not only in spirit but in idiom, and, to the reader, has all the appearance of a translation from that language. It thus affords, in its style, a remarkable contrast to the book of travels above noticed. It contains a vast variety of anecdotes and sketches of character, always amusing if not always accurate. It has no continuity of narrative, leaping backwards and forwards through all ages, and among every variety of subject: from a description of the monument which she erected to the memory of her husband, she takes occasion to give a rapid sketch of the history of the art of sculpture. The least pleasing feature in the work is its intense egotism. The margravine was a woman of wonderfully versatile genius. She wrote with fluency in French and German. She was an accomplished musician and actress; and she tells us, "I have executed many busts myself, and among others one of the margrave, which is generally allowed to be extremely like him."