income independent of his father. Here the prince ought to have yielded; if he had been either politic or well-disposed, he would have done so. The king was at this time much worse, and his physicians declared that if he did not alter soon, he could not live a twelvemonth. This circumstance of itself would have touched any young man of the least natural feeling, to say nothing of policy; for, if the king died, there was an end of the question — the prince would be king himself. But he was now in such a temper that he would not listen to the royal proposal; and the very next day, the 22nd of February, Pulteney made his motion in the house of commons for an address beseeching the king to settle upon the prince a hundred thousand pounds a year, and promising that the house would enable him effectually to do so. What was still stranger, it was seconded by Sir John Barnard.
The king's message to his son had been delivered by several great officers of state, headed by lord chancellor Hardwicke; and his determined rejection of it struck the public as something very ungracious. Walpole stated the fact of the king's offer of the day before, and added that fifty thousand pounds a year, with the revenue of the duchy of Cornwall, about ten thousand pounds more, was a sufficient allowance for an heir-apparent. He remarked how highly indecorous it was to interfere betwixt father and son, and he replied to the historical references of Pulteney to the establishments of heirs-apparent, by denying that there was any case of such interference as the present, except in the reign of Henry VI. — a prince so weak, that parliament was compelled to exercise certain rights to which they were not properly entitled. Pulteney replied, and described the prince's necessary expenses as amounting to sixty-three thousand pounds a-year, whilst his income was only fifty-two thousand pounds, leaving him nothing to bestow in the exercise of benevolence, and dependent on the minister of his father.
The imminent danger of the king, however, was more persuasive with many than any other arguments. They were not willing to run counter to a prince apparently on the point of ascending the throne, and Walpole would have found himself in a minority had Wyndham, as he hoped, brought the tories to vote for the prince. But forty-five Jacobites, who could not bring themselves to vote for an heir of the house of Hanover, though they would by that have done a serious mischief to the Hanoverian usurper, as they styled him, rose in a body and quitted the house. The Jacobites in the house in the preceding parliament were reckoned to be fifty, so that we have here a pretty clear test of the amount of that party in the house. On the division, the ministerial party amounted to two hundred and thirty-four, the opposition to only two hundred and four — being a majority for ministers of exactly thirty. The next day the same motion was made in the lords by Carteret, but was rejected by a large majority — one hundred and three to forty.
This decided repulse ought to have shown the prince the violence that he was doing to the public sense of decency, and the mischief to his own character; but the disappointment only the more embittered him, and increased his miserable obstinacy. Time had no effect in abating his unnatural resentment. Though this parliamentary decision took place in February, he continued so much in the same temper, that the very last day of the following July, his wife being seized with symptoms of labour, he suddenly determined to remove her from Hampton Court, where all the royal family then were, and hurry her off to London.
The event of this first accouchement of the princess was duly expected, and all the necessary measures taken for it, though the prince had never once announced the fact of the princess's pregnancy to the king and queen; and in the middle of the night he suddenly hurried her away at the risk of her life. With all his haste, the birth had nearly taken place at a roadside inn, where there was nothing proper for the occasion — no accoucheur, no medical attendance, nor any of the necessary witnesses of the birth of a probable heir to the crown.
Fortunately, the princess was safely delivered at St. James's, though the house was altogether unprepared for such an emergency — the rooms and beds being unaired, and no adequate suite of servants. The moment that the king heard of this extraordinary conduct of the prince, he dispatched Walpole and lord Harrington to attend the birth, but they were too late. The queen set out, also, with all haste, and was with the princess at seven in the morning at St. James's. Horace Walpole says, "The gracious prince, so far from attempting any apology, spoke not a word to his mother, but, on her retreat, gave her his hand, and led her into the street to her coach, still dumb; but a crowd being assembled at the gate, he kneeled down in the dirt, and humbly kissed her majesty's hand. Her indignation must have shrunk into contempt."
This headstrong and disgraceful conduct of the prince produced that disgust in the public mind, that he soon felt it necessary to make very humble apologies and submissions to both his parents. He professed that the confinement of the princess took place before it was expected, and, therefore he thought it best to take her to where she could have the best assistance, rather than wait till it arrived, and that in his hurry he had forgotten to apprise their majesties. Every one knew that this was all false, and the king treated such an apology with silent scorn. Not only his enemies, but his friends, and Bolingbroke foremost amongst them, blamed his conduct in thus cruelly and dangerously removing the princess. As he had been undignifiedly passionate before, now he became as meanly humble. He continued to make such humble apologies as could only proceed from an ignoble nature. But if the son was grossly culpable, the father was no less so. He had been penurious and harsh towards his son; the son was now disposed to humble himself, and the father should have been satisfied. On the contrary, George remained true to his self-willed and brutal nature; he would do nothing towards closing this frightful and revolting breach in a family, which by its position was exposed to the eyes of all Europe. Lord chancellor Hardwicke is said to have laboured hard and honourably to produce a reconciliation; but Walpole is accused of taking the contrary course, and hardening the king in his hatred to his son. The prince, now reduced to an extremity of self-abasement, resolved to proceed to the king's presence, and there personally entreat his pardon; but the queen, who, no doubt, knew the implacable mood of her husband, advised
