When, in alarm, they sought refuge in a neighbouring box, the door was at once besieged by jostling, clamorous thousands, who were only kept at bay by the sword-points of their escort.  And when, one day, they visited Hampton Court, the housekeeper showed the company who were “lionising” the place into the room where they were sitting, instead of into the apartment known as the “Beauty Room,” with the significant remark, “These are the beauties, gentlemen.”

With such universal and embarrassing homage, it is no wonder that all the gallants in town, from the rakish Duke of Cumberland downwards, were at the feet of the fair sisters, or that they had the refusal of many a coronet before they had been many weeks in London.  Each sister counted her noble lovers by the score, and each soon capitulated to a favoured wooer.

Among Maria’s most ardent suitors was the Earl of Coventry, “a grave young lord” of handsome person and courtly graces, who had singled himself out from them all by the ardour of his wooing; and to him Maria gave her hand.  One March day in 1752, the world of fashion was thrown into a high state of excitement by reading the following announcement:—­

“On Thursday evening the Earl of Coventry was married to Miss Maria Gunning, a lady possessed of that exquisite beauty and of those accomplishments which will add Grace and Dignity to the highest station.  As soon as the ceremony was over they set out for Lord Ashburnham’s seat at Charlton, in Kent, to consummate their nuptials.”

Of Lady Coventry, who seems to have been as vain and foolish as she was beautiful, many amusing stories are told.  So annoyed was her ladyship by the crowds that still followed her when she took the air in St James’s Park that she appealed to the King for an escort of soldiers, a favour which was readily granted to “the most beautiful woman in England,” Thus, on one occasion, we are told,

“from eight to ten o’clock in the evening, a strange procession paraded the crowded avenues, obliging everyone to make way and exciting universal laughter.  In front marched two sergeants with their halberds, then tripped the self-conscious Lady Coventry, attended by her husband and an ardent admirer, the amorous Earl of Pembroke, while twelve soldiers of the guard followed in the rear!”

One day, so runs another story which illustrates her ladyship’s lack of discretion, she was talking to King George II., who in spite of his age, was a great admirer of beauty, and especially of my Lady Coventry.  “Are you not sorry,” His Majesty enquired, “that there are to be no more masquerades?” “Indeed, no,” was the answer.  “I am quite weary of them and of all London sights.  There is only one left that I am really anxious to see, and that is a coronation!” This unflattering wish she was not destined to realise; for King George survived the foolish beauty by a fortnight.