I had thus, as I flattered myself, prevented the greater number of our friends from personally offending the Princess. My arguments and their own interest had kept many from the House. I did not doubt but the Ministers would be dismissed, if the Court found that it had hopes of mollifying the Opposition. But the next morning I perceived the vertigo was returned with fresh force. On going to the House, Sir William Meredith told me that Onslow was determined to put it to a division on the report, encouraged by the many negatives on the Princess’s question. This was judging weakly, for many would cry “No!” who would not have voted, when they would have been personally distinguished by a division. He added, that Forester, the Duke of Bedford’s lawyer, had laughed at them for not dividing. I was not the dupe of that art; the less as Rigby had been the first to acquaint Mr. Conway with Morton’s intended motion; and to draw in our party, the Bedford faction had given out that Forester would oppose the re-establishment of the Princess’s name. Lord Rockingham confirmed this intelligence—agreed with me, but said he could not prevail on the Duke of Newcastle, on whom I found the Bedfords had contrived to make the impression they wished. Sir William Meredith added that Onslow had said to him over night, “I believe you, Conway, and T. Townshend acted from conscience, but all the rest from interest.” I replied, “Sir William, Onslow may say what he pleases, yet he will accept a place before I shall. I had rather be taxed with self-interest, than call God to witness I mean no personality, when I am doing the most personal thing in the world.” Provoked at this new absurdity, I went away, depending that Mr. Conway, who had retired with me the day before, and had promised me not to vote against the Princess, would be firm to his promise; yet when the question came on, he had the weakness, though he tried to prevent a division, to vote with the Cavendishes against her. They pretended to desire he would not, but knew how much the fear of their silent reproaches would operate on him.[117] Newcastle’s people were violent, and insisted on a division, driven on by John White,[118] an old republican, who governed both Newcastle and Lord John Cavendish, and who hoped this vote would divide the Opposition from Mr. Pitt, whom White hated, and who he certainly knew would never personally affront the Court. Yet after all their hopes, the result of this intemperate measure was a contemptible minority of 37. What was more unlikely, Rigby retired, and did not vote with the majority, though he had declared nothing should make him vote against the Princess. Her triumph would have been complete, if anything could have effaced the affront she had received, and which must remain on record. What the few Whigs in that little minority could plead in their defence, was difficult to say. They had loudly condemned the motion for removing Sir Robert Walpole on public fame, and now endeavoured to stigmatize the Princess on the same ground, without daring even to assign it as a pretence. The conduct of the Ministers was still more double; and many believed that the Duke of Cumberland’s hatred of the Princess had drawn him at last to concur with the Bedfords in instigating Newcastle to this measure. Grenville scarce concealed his sentiments; and Lord Burghersh telling him he would go away, rather than vote with the Tories, unless he, Grenville, desired him not; the latter bade him follow his own inclination—he stayed and voted against the Princess.
After some other clauses proposed and rejected, the Bill passed at eleven at night. During the debate Onslow attacked Charles Townshend, (who had spoken for the Court,) and congratulated the Treasury-bench on their acquisition. Townshend replied in one of his best speeches, but with his usual want of judgment, boasted of his own steadiness for sixteen years; saying, “Surely, in these times, with a little common sense, I might have been dependent if I had pleased.” The answer was obvious—“With a little common sense you might.”
Rose Fuller declared that if the motion for reinstating the Princess was rejected, he, to show his impartiality, would move to omit her Royal Highness’s daughters and Princess Amalie. It was said with humour, that would be like Lord Anglesey, who beating his wife,[119] she said, “How much happier is that wench (pointing to a housemaid) than I am!” He immediately kicked the maid down stairs, and then said, “Well! there is at least one grievance removed.”
On the 13th, the bill, returned from the Commons, with the name of the Princess Dowager reinserted, was read in the House of Lords, and the Ministers were to swallow the amendment, and palliate their past conduct as well as they could. The task was allotted to Lord Sandwich. He owned Lord Halifax’s amendment had met with his hearty concurrence, and he had expected it would have passed through both Houses unanimously: had thought it would be disapproved of by no person whatever. But whether that amendment or the correction of it should take place, the great point would be obtained of ascertaining who were the persons capable of the Regency. He hoped, therefore, their Lordships would agree to the correction sent up from the other House. Parliament could not mean to exclude the Princess, if it would be disagreeable to her Royal Highness, or to any other person: the sole meaning had been to remove doubts. Should he himself adhere to the former words, he should be inconsistent, for those words had no longer the same meaning; but he had thought the amendment would have been universally approved. He had meant to establish any description that would be agreeable to the King and people. It was now of consequence to be unanimous in re-establishing the name of her Royal Highness.
By Sandwich and Grenville dwelling so much upon the expectation they had conceived, that the omission of the Princess would be universally approved, it was plain they had flattered themselves with acquiring such popularity by that act, that the King would not dare to remove them. This had driven them on the outrage they had committed. The event proved just the contrary of what they had expected. Obnoxious as the Princess was, the heinousness of the insult to her, and of the treachery to the King, shocked all mankind, and seemed doubly offensive in men from whom the King had a right to expect defence, and who had plunged so deep into the most arbitrary and unpopular measures. It was not by their hands that the nation wished to see the Princess and Favourite humbled. The same fate attended Sandwich now, that had pursued the discovery of the “Essay on Woman.” The profaneness of Wilkes, and the unpopularity of the Princess, were forgotten in the more odious means employed to disgrace them.
The Duke of Richmond took notice that the words now inserted by the House of Commons were precisely the same with those he had moved himself, and was glad they were likely to be agreed to; yet when he had proposed them, Lord Sandwich had moved to adjourn. His own wish had tended to precision; and his view, to pass the act in the manner most agreeable to the King. When Lord Halifax had brought other words, he had concluded those words were agreeable to his Majesty, for he believed Lord Halifax incapable of deceiving the King or the House (this was pointed at Lord Sandwich). He had now heard that their Lordships must eat their words; and that what had happened was a stigma on her Royal Highness. Surely that was not paying court to her: such assertions had more zeal than judgment in them; and were injurious to the House. Lord Sandwich replied, that he had moved to adjourn, because the question had been too great to be determined suddenly: he had not been against the Duke’s motion. He knew of nothing injurious from the other House.
The Duke of Portland[120] disagreed with the new amendment, because he recollected, he said, the authority with which the omission of the Princess had gone down to the other House. To reinstate her now would be inconsistent and contradictory. Lord Talbot said there was no inconsistency in changing, when founded on the opinions of the other House. It was advantageous to the constitution to have the joint wisdom of both. Lord Ravensworth said he had always been for naming the Princess, yet disapproved the new amendment, because the former amendment had come from the King. The Duke of Newcastle dissented from the amendment; protested he had no views; could only serve his country by his opinion in that House. He would not say the other House had no right to make this amendment; but they had not shown that respect to the Crown, or to their Lordships, that they had meant to show. It had been usual to receive nominations or stipulations from the Crown. The House of Commons should not have taken upon themselves to nominate. He thought Lord Halifax incapable of bringing anything but truth from the King: he wished, therefore, the former words had not been altered.
The present alteration was not warranted by precedent. Lord Halifax’s motion had reduced the number of those that were capable of the Regency, and therefore was a desirable measure. Lord Denbigh expressed his astonishment at the former extraordinary motion, which had flowed from as extraordinary a quarter. He had not been present, yet should have voted for it, extraordinary as it was; should wonder if their Lordships should not agree to correct that wonderful measure. During the meridian of Newcastle’s power, now dwindled, the Princess was named Regent. If Prince Frederick[121] should, by failure of the rest of the Royal Family, come to be King before he was of age, the Princess, by Newcastle’s bill, must be Regent. He believed his Grace’s great age had made him forget one of his favourite children. Lord Talbot said he did not believe the Duke objected to the Princess, but would have had the Commons consider the motion as the King’s. He would not enter into the merits of the Princess. Though he held that stick in his hand (of Lord-Steward), he had never known a Court-secret. Should the King die, the Princess would be too afflicted to act. He then ridiculed the Opposition; and concluded with saying, “I was once a patriot, my Lords, for patriotism is always in opposition.” Lord Pomfret declared strongly in favour of the Princess; and the amendment was agreed to without a negative. The bill passed.
But though the Ministers had been forced to make atonement, the sacrifice was by no means accepted. The King treated them with every mark of estrangement and aversion; and it was visible to every eye that their fall was determined. Previous to their dismission, they tasted of the horror in which they were held by the people. The very day on which the Regency-bill passed, the Lords read another bill sent from the Commons, for imposing as high duties on Italian silks as are paid on those of France, on this foundation, that the French sent their silks to Genoa and Leghorn, and then entered them there as Italian merchandize. This bill had passed the Commons with little notice, all attention having been engrossed by the plan of the Regency. When it was read by the Lords, the Duke of Bedford alone spoke against it; nobody said a word for it, and it was thrown out.[122] It happened that the silk manufacture was at a low ebb, and many weavers in Spitalfields were unemployed. The next day about three or four thousand of those poor men went very quietly and unarmed to Richmond, to petition the King for redress. The Queen was walking in the paddock, and was alarmed by their numbers; but they gave no offence, and followed the King in the same peaceable manner to Wimbledon, whither he was gone to a review. The King told them, he would do all that lay in his power to relieve them, and they returned pleased and orderly.
But the next day, May 15th, whether they distinguished between the assurances given by his Majesty and the rejection of the bill by the Lords; or whether, as is more probable, they had been instigated under-hand, they went to the House of Lords in great bodies, behaving in the most riotous manner, abusing the Peers, and applauding the Commons, who had passed their bill. The Chancellor’s[123] coach they stopped, and asked him if he had been against the bill? He stoutly replied, Yes. They were abashed at his firmness, and said they hoped he would do justice. He replied, “Always, and everywhere; and whoever did, need fear nothing.” When the Duke of Bedford appeared, they hissed and pelted him; and one of the mob taking up a large stone for the new pavement, dashed it into the chariot: the Duke broke the force of the blow by holding up his arm, but it cut his hand, and bruised him on the temple; so narrowly he escaped with his life. They then followed him to his own house, where with great temper he admitted two of the ringleaders to a parley, and they went away seemingly appeased.[124]