Inside the Egyptian Hall there was a subject for Hayter—­the diminutive stature of the Queen, covered with diamonds, and her countenance lighted up with the kindest benevolence; Mrs. Fry, her simple Quaker’s dress adding to the height of her figure—­though a little flushed—­preserving her wonted calmness of look and manner; several of the bishops standing near; the platform crowded with waving feathers, jewels, and orders; the hall lined with spectators, gaily and nobly clad, and the centre filled with hundreds of children, brought there from their different schools to be examined.  A murmur of applause ran through the assemblage as the Queen took Mrs. Fry by the hand.  The murmur was followed by a clap and a shout, which was taken up by the multitudes without till it died away in the distance.

Those who regard Hannah More as a prim maiden lady of the conventional type, with a pious and literary turn of mind, will be obliged to change their views should they read Mrs. Walford’s admirable sketch of the authoress of Percy.  Hannah More was a brilliant wit, a femme d’esprit, passionately fond of society, and loved by society in return.  When the serious-minded little country girl, who at the age of eight had covered a whole quire of paper with letters seeking to reform imaginary depraved characters, and with return epistles full of contrition and promises of amendment, paid her first visit to London, she became at once the intimate friend of Johnson, Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Garrick, and most of the distinguished people of the day, delighting them by her charm, and grace, and wit.  ‘I dined at the Adelphi yesterday,’ she writes in one of her letters.  ’Garrick was the very soul of the company, and I never saw Johnson in more perfect good-humour.  After all had risen to go we stood round them for above an hour, laughing, in defiance of every rule of decorum and Chesterfield.  I believe we should never have thought of sitting down, nor of parting, had not an impertinent watchman been saucily vociferating.  Johnson outstaid them all, and sat with me for half an hour.’  The following is from her sister’s pen: 

On Tuesday evening we drank tea at Sir Joshua’s with Dr. Johnson.  Hannah is certainly a great favourite.  She was placed next him, and they had the entire conversation to themselves.  They were both in remarkably high spirits, and it was certainly her lucky night; I never heard her say so many good things.  The old genius was as jocular as the young one was pleasant.  You would have imagined we were at some comedy had you heard our peals of laughter.  They certainly tried which could ‘pepper the highest,’ and it is not clear to me that the lexicographer was really the highest seasoner.

Hannah More was certainly, as Mrs. Walford says, ’the feted and caressed idol of society.’  The theatre at Bristol vaunted, ‘Boast we not a More?’ and the learned cits at Oxford inscribed their acknowledgment