that his friends have, upon occasion, been compelled to vindicate his heart at the expense of his head.

In 1717, he was created Duke of Gloucester; in the following year, he was installed a knight of the garter; and in 1726, he became Duke of Edinburgh. In the twenty-second year of his age, he first came to this country, and shortly after his arrival, was made Earl of Chester, Prince of Wales, and a member of the privy council. He soon became exceedingly popular; but lost his credit at court, in proportion as he gained the good will of the public. He evidently felt no great veneration for his parents; whom he thwarted, rather than obeyed: and instead of supporting the king's government, betrayed a strong bias towards the opposition, of which, he eventually became the head.

Soon after he came to England, proposals were made for his marriage with the Princess Royal of Prussia, but her father objected to the terms offered, and the negotiation ended in a personal difference between the two monarchs.

No great period elapsed before the prince was on the brink of a private union with a lady of rank, in this country. The old Duchess of Marlborough, knowing that he was in great want of money, and felt no repugnance to giving the king offence, offered him the hand of her favourite grand-daughter, Lady Diana Spencer, with a fortune of £100,000. The prince consented to the proposal; a day was fixed for his being secretly united to Lady Diana, at the duchess's lodge, in the great park at Windsor; and the marriage would, in all probability, have taken place, had not Sir Robert Walpole discovered the prince's intentions, in time to prevent him from carrying

them into effect.

In February, 1736, a message was sent, by two privy-councillors, by the king to his son, with whom he was then at variance, proposing a match between the prince, and Augusta, daughter of Frederick the Second, Duke of Saxe Gotha. This princess was born on the 19th of November, 1709, and was said to be possessed of very superior mental endowments and considerable beauty of person. The prince having expressed his satisfaction at the proposed alliance, the necessary preliminaries

were adjusted; and on the 25th of April, the intended bride arrived at St. James's palace, where the prince paid her a visit. The next day, he dined with her at Greenwich; and on the following morning, her highness, it is stated, came in his majesty's coach, drawn by six horses, from Greenwich to Lambeth; and was brought from thence to St. James's, in the queen's chair. Her highness was received by their majesties with extreme tenderness. She dined with the prince and the rest of the royal family. At eight o'clock the procession began to the chapel, where the marriage was solemnised by the Bishop of London. Supper was served, at ten o'clock, in the great state ball-room, which was crowded with spectators. About twelve o'clock, it is added, the illustrious pair were put to bed, when the king did the bride the usual honours, and company were admitted to see them.

Early in the session of 1737, Pulteney, afterwards Earl of Bath, then the most violent antagonist of his former friend, the minister, Sir Robert Walpole, moved an address, in the house of commons, for increasing the heir-apparent's income to £100,000 per annum, out of the civil list. The motion was opposed with great determination by ministers, as an infraction on the king's prerogative, and it was negatived, on a division, by a majority of twenty. This measure considerably increased the king's displeasure against his son; who, on the other hand, felt highly exasperated, that out of a civil list of £800,000, his father should only allow him £50,000 per annum. Shortly afterwards, Bubb Doddington advised him to apply to parliament for an additional grant; but the prince declared, that the people had done enough for his family already; and, that he would rather beg his bread from door to door, than be a further charge to them.

The unpardonable absurdity of the prince, on the birth of his first child, Augusta, led to a positive rupture between his royal highness and the king. He brought the princess, in the middle of the night, and when she was in actual labour, from Hampton Court to St. James's palace, where she was put into an unprepared bed, for which the prince and Lady Archibald Hamilton

were obliged to air sheets. Early the next morning, the queen visited her daughter-in-law, and asked Lady Hamilton "How she dared to bring away the princess in that manner?" Upon which, her ladyship turned to the prince, and said, "You see, sir! I told you it would be laid upon me." The prince made no apology, nor did he even utter a word to his mother; but when he conducted her to her coach, finding a crowd had assembled at the gate, he kneeled down in the dirt, and humbly kissed her hand. A few months afterwards, when on her death-bed, she declared that she would not insult his father, to whom he had acted most undutifully, by either pardoning or even receiving him into her presence.

The king's anger on the occasion was so great, that he sent the prince a message, stigmatising his conduct as having been, for some time, void of all real duty; intimating also that he should not reside in the palace, until he withdrew his confidence from those by whom he had for some time past been advised; and commanding him to quit St. James's as soon as the princess could with safety be removed. The prince, in consequence of this mandate, retired with his family to Kew, and afterwards resided for some time at Cliefden and Norfolk-house.

In 1742, Secker, then Bishop of London, was directed to acquaint the prince, that if his royal highness would write such a letter as might be consistent with his majesty's honour to receive, he and all who were in his confidence should be kindly received at court; £50,000 per annum should be added to his revenue; £200,000 should be granted to pay his debts, and every arrangement made to give him satisfaction. The prince immediately replied, That he had the utmost duty for the king, and whenever he thought fit to admit him to his presence, he would throw himself at his majesty's feet, without insisting on any terms; that while Sir Robert Walpole managed affairs, he would take no part in them; for he considered Sir Robert as a bar between the king and himself. "Indeed," added the prince, "I take this message to come from him, and not from my father."

but

Sir Robert soon after resigned; the prince's friends immediately took office; and we find it recorded, under date of the 17th of February, 1742, that, "as the first happy effect in the change of ministry, the Prince of Wales, on this day, waited on the king at St. James's, and was received in the most gracious and affectionate manner; on which occasion there was a very splendid court; and a guard was immediately ordered to attend his royal highness at Carltonhouse." This reconciliation was, however, by no means cordial: the father and son met, indeed, on a few great occasions, but there was neither warmth nor sincerity in their intercourse, and they soon relapsed into their former state of mutual disgust.

The prince obtained almost as much popularity by patronising authors and wits, as he did by quarrelling with the king, and countenancing an opposition to the ministry. When the Rambler appeared, he sent some persons of his court, to ascertain from Cave, the bookseller, the name of its author, towards whom he expressed a desire of extending his protection. He gave Tindal a gold medal worth forty guineas; honoured Pope with a complimentary visit; and sent Glover, the author of Leonidas, a bank-note for £500, to extricate him from some embarrassments which prevented him from paying his usual visits to the little court of his royal highness, at Leicester-house. Nor was he merely a patron of men of letters, having made some attempts at authorship himself. It is asserted by Seward that the prince actually wrote a piece, called "The History of Prince Titi," which was printed in 1736. A French copy of the work appeared in the same year, which has been said, we know not with what truth, to have been the original. The prince, it is said, had placed his manuscript for correction in the hands of Ralph, the historian, among whose posthumous papers it was found by that gentle

'Tis not the liquid brightness of those eyes,
That swim with pleasure and delight;
Nor those heavenly arches which arise
O'er each of them, to shade their light:

Tis not that hair which plays with every wind,
And loves to wanton round thy face;
Now straying round the forehead, now behind
Retiring with insidious grace :

'Tis not that lovely range of teeth so white,
As new-shorn sheep, equal and fair;
Nor e'en that gentle smile, the heart's delight,
With which no smile could e'er compare :
"Tis not that chin so round, that neck so fine,
Those breasts that swell to meet my love,
That easy sloping waist, that form divine,
Nor aught below, nor aught above:

"Tis not the living colours over each,

By nature's finest pencil wrought,

To shame the full blown rose, and blooming peach,
And mock the happy painter's thought:

No, 'tis that gentleness of mind, that love
So kindly answering my desire;

That grace with which you look, and speak, and

move,

That thus has set my soul on fire.

At the time the prince paid these compliments to his wife, he was living in adultery, to her knowledge, with more than one mistress. Among his favorites were Lady Archibald Hamilton, who is said to have been neither young nor handsome within his memory; Miss Vane, who had no other charms than being a maid of honour; and Lady Middlesex, who was very short, plain, and yellow. His chief passion, says Walpole, was women; but, like the rest of his race, beauty was not a necessary ingredient. He was, however, in the same author's opinion, notwithstanding his gross infidelity, a very good husband!

A French gentleman, also, in a letter to a friend, which has been printed, unaccountably testifies to the connubial excellence of the prince. The writer also speaks highly of the tenderness displayed, by his royal highness, towards the young princes and princesses. "I have met him," he continues, "twenty times in his chaise, with one child before him, whom he caressed as much as if this had been an only one; and when, after a short absence, he returned to his family, his embraces were often mixed with tears. He relied on the affection of the people for the safety of his person, walking the streets unguarded, and only followed by a couple of servants. In this way, he visited various manufactories, where he liberally

rewarded the workmen. Sometimes, in rowing-matches on the river, he would distribute the prizes with his own hand; he would often converse familiarly with the fishermen, on matters belonging to their business, rewarding them He handsomely for their industry. would enter, unceremoniously, into the hut of a labourer, neither disdaining to sit down with the family, nor to partake of their humble repast; but informing himself of their occupations, and relieving their wants as far as lay in his power. The following instance of his goodness, I witnessed myself:being in the park one morning, at the moment the prince entered his chair, a ragged soldier approached it: the prince did not see him till the chairmen had taken him up; but then, perceiving the cripple, he ordered them to stop. Where did you lose your arm, my friend?' said he. 'At Fontenoy.'

You look pale; are you in bad health?' Yes, sir; since the loss of my arm, I have remained so feeble, that the least labour throws me into a fever.' And why have you not applied to be put on the list of out-pensioners?' I have been promised that; but, wanting a friend, many less miserable have been preferred before me.' I had kept my eyes on the prince, and could perceive his countenance express the most lively sensibility. Having ordered his gentleman to give the poor fellow four guineas, he said, My friend, come and see me, and I will endeavour to get you into Chelsea.""

The circumstances related in this letter, if true, are highly creditable to the prince. Several other instances are recorded of his alleged kindness and generosity to the distressed; but, on the whole, his character was by no means amiable. He affected, for it can scarcely be supposed that he felt, a great jealousy for the liberties of parliament. To a deputation which waited on him, for the purpose of soliciting him to support a clause of the Tything bill, in favour of the Quakers, he is said to have delivered the following answer :"As I am a friend to liberty in general, and to toleration in particular, I wish you may meet with all proper favour; but, for myself, I never gave my vote in parliament; and to influence my friends, or direct my servants, in theirs,

does not become my station. To leave them entirely to their own consciences and understandings, is a rule I have hitherto prescribed to myself, and purpose through life to observe." " May it please the Prince of Wales," rejoined Andrew Pitt, who was at the head of the deputation," I am greatly affected with thy excellent notions of liberty, and am more pleased with the answer thou hast given us, than if thou hadst granted our request."

As a striking contrast to this anecdote, it is stated, that the prince one day said of Lord Doneraile, who had not conducted himself in parliament to the satisfaction of his royal high"Does he think I will support him, unless he does as I would have him? Does not he consider that whoever may be my ministers, I must be king?"

ness,

He was easily accessible to flattery, and passionately fond of gaming; an affected admirer of learning; decidedly generous, but contemptibly insincere. Walpole satirically says of him, that he resembled his pattern, the Black Prince, in nothing but in dying before his father. It appears that he was desirous of acquiring a martial reputation, and solicited the command of the king's troops during the rebellion, but rather through jealousy of his brother, the Duke of Cumberland, than true courage. During the siege of Carlisle, he caused a representation in paste of its citadel to be served up at his table with the dessert, which his royal highness, at the head of the maids of honour, bombarded with sugar-plumbs.

His death took place on the 20th of March, 1751. On the 12th of that month, although he had previously been ill of a pleurisy, the prince went to the house of lords; but he caught a cold and relapsed during the same night. On the day of his death he had a violent fit of coughing, and, at length, laid his hand upon his breast, and said, "Je sens la mort!" The princess, who was in the room, ran towards him, and found that he had already expired. The cause of his death was the breaking of an imposthume, which had been occasioned by the blow of a tennis-ball.

Soon after his decease, the following proposed epitaph for his monument was anonymously circulated:

Here lies Fred,

Who was alive, and is dead.
Had it been his father,

I had much rather;
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another;
Had it been his sister,

No one would have missed her;
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation;

But since 'tis only Fred,
Who was alive, and is dead,

There's no more to be said.

The violent spirit of party, according to Bubb Doddington (Lord Melcombe), was displayed even at the prince's funeral. The whole bedchamber were ordered to attend from ten in the morning till the interment, but there was not the attention to order the board of green cloth to provide them a bit of bread; and these gentlemen, of the first rank and distinction, in discharge of their last sad duty to a loved and loving master, were forced to bespeak a great cold dinner from a common tavern in the neighbourhood; at three o'clock, indeed, they vouchsafed to think of a dinner, and ordered one; but the disgrace was complete-the tavern dinner was paid for and given to the poor."

The princess, of whom Walpole said, she had never said a foolish thing, nor done a disobliging one, since her arrival, though placed in a very difficult situation,-young, uninstructed, and besieged by jarring interests-was, at the death of her husband, already the mother of eight children, and expected in a few months to give birth to a ninth. She remained for four hours in the room, after her royal husband's decease, before she could be convinced that he was, in reality, dead. Her attendants put her to bed at six in the morning, but she rose again at eight, and burnt all the prince's private papers.

The people evinced great commiseration for the widow and her orphans; and George the Second treated them with unexpected kindness. The princess was made guardian of her eldest son, in case of the king's demise during the young prince's minority; and in November, 1752, on her re-appearance in public, she received the same honours as had been paid to the queen during her majesty's life. Yet be reasonably doubted, whether the king felt entirely satisfied with her management of the young heir-apparent,

may

who was kept in positive seclusion, at Leicester-house, and entirely under the dominion of the princess dowager and her confidential friend, the Earl of Bute; whose extraordinary intimacy with her royal highness is thus spoken of by the gossipping Walpole: "It had already been whispered, that the assiduities of Lord Bute at Leicester-house, and his still more frequent attendance in the gardens at Kew, and Carltonhouse, were less addressed to the Prince of Wales than to his mother. The eagerness of the pages of the back stairs to let her know whenever Lord Bute arrived, and some other symptons, contributed to dispel the ideas that had been conceived of the rigour of her widowhood. On the other hand, the favoured personage, naturally ostentatious of his person, and of haughty carriage, seemed by no means desirous of concealing his conquest. His bows grew more theatric; his graces contracted some meaning; and the beauty of his leg was constantly displayed in the eyes of the poor captivated princess. When the late Prince of Wales affected to retire into gloomy allées with Lady Middleton, he used to bid the princess walk with Lord Bute. As soon as the prince was dead, they walked more and more, in honour of his memory. The young Prince of Wales lived shut up with his mother and Lord Bute, and must have thrown them into some difficulties; their connection was not easily reconcileable to the devotion which they had infused into the mind of the prince; the princess could not wish him always present, and yet dreaded his being out of her sight. His brother Edward, who received a thousand mortifications, was seldom suffered to be with him; and Lady Augusta, now a woman, was, to facilitate some privacy for the princess, dismissed from supping with her mother, and sent back to cheesecakes, with her little sister, Elizabeth, on pretence, that meat at night would fatten her too much."

The latter years of her life were embittered by the afflictions of her favourite daughter, the premature death of her youngest son, and the abuse that was heaped upon her, by the public and the press, after her son's accession. Popular clamour ran so exceedingly high against her, on account of the

influence which she was supposed to possess over the young king's mind, that her residence was threatened with destruction, by a mob. On this occasion, even at a moment when the horrid yells of the populace rendered her almost inaudible, she is reported to have said, "How I pity these poor deluded people! I hope they will know better by-and-by."

For some time before her death, George the Third and his queen visited her every evening at eight o'clock; but when her illness became alarming, they went to her at seven, pretending they had mistaken the hour. On the night of the 8th of February, 1772, they remained with her until nine; she talked to them as usual, and after their departure, said to one of her medical attendants, "I think I shall have a good night's rest." She expired, however, at six o'clock on the following morning; and on the 16th of the same month, her remains were interred in Westminster Abbey.

On account of the paucity of wellauthenticated facts, relative to the conduct of this princess, it is impossible to delineate her general character. She has been the subject of much adulation on the one hand, and bitter obloquy on the other. Serious accusations have been made against her, which have neither been satisfactorily substantiated nor disproved. It has been feebly argued that her conduct with regard to her son's education, could not have been reprehensible, because, after his accession, he treated her with extraordinary kindness. George the Third was, however, far from an efficient judge of what constituted a good education; and, had he been pre-eminently qualified to form a correct opinion on that subject, the filial love which he evinced towards his mother could scarcely be accepted as a proof that he approved of the manner in which he had been educated. Of her benevolence, no doubt exists: nor can it be denied that she was possessed of many good qualities. She gradually paid off, out of her own income, the heavy sums in which her husband was indebted at the time of his decease. Her temper was placid: and the consideration she evinced for those about her, exceedingly laudable. Bishop Newton, her chaplain, states,