GEORGE IIIFrom an engraving by W. TomkinsGEORGE III
From an engraving by W. Tomkins
GEORGE III
In July, Parliament had been prorogued to November20, and when it met on that day, Pitt, after explaining the situation, secured an adjournment to December 4, in order that an examination of the physicians might be made by Privy Council. In the interval Dr. Warren told him that "the physicians could now have no hesitation in pronouncing that the actual disorder was that of lunacy; that no man could pretend to say that this was or was not curable, that he saw no immediate symptoms of recovery; that the King might never recover; and, on the other hand, that he might recover at any one moment." After this official pronouncement delay was no longer possible, and when the House reassembled on December 4, Pitt stated he had taken steps to ascertain the exact condition of the King, moved for the report of the examination of the physicians, which had been held before the Privy Council on the previous day, and proposed that it should be taken into consideration on the following Monday.
To each physician the same questions had been put: Do you think his Majesty's present disorder incapacitates him for public business? Do you think his Majesty's disorder a curable or incurable malady? Can you take upon you to say in what time the malady may be removed? Each physician replied that the King was quite incapableof transacting business, and that, although the malady was curable, it was impossible to say when the disorder might be removed.
On the Monday when the report was to be taken into consideration, however, the general sense of the House seemed to be that in a matter of such magnitude it was advisable that the House itself should examine the physicians, and this was thought the more desirable because since the examination of the Privy Council Dr. Willis and Dr. Gisborne had been called in. A committee of twenty-one members was appointed on December 8 to hear the doctors' opinions, which were naturally identical with their previous pronouncements, with which Willis agreed, except that he was emphatic in his conviction of the speedy recovery of the King; and two days later the Committee made its report to the House. It is not necessary to go into the details of the struggle between the Government and the Opposition: how Pitt proposed a committee to report on precedents of measures to carry on the government when the personal exercise of the royal authority had been prevented by infancy, sickness, infirmity, or other causes: and how Fox interrupted the harmony of the proceedings by asserting therightof the Prince of Wales to the regency. It may be pointed out that there was somethingbehind this bold assertion, for, since the heir-apparent was the natural selection for the office, Fox would scarcely otherwise have raised the point. It was indeed a foregone conclusion that the Prince would be regent, but the point at issue was whether the regency should be restricted or unrestricted. Pitt, left to himself, would undoubtedly impose conditions, but if Fox could impress the House with the belief that the Prince had the right to the office, then the regency would doubtless be unfettered. It has usually been assumed when Fox put forward his view he made a blunder—and if we regard it as a blunder, it was a very bad one; but is it not more likely that therightwas claimed, merely as a tactical move in the parliamentary warfare? It had the great advantage that the party advancing the theory could lose nothing by it, for the Prince must be offered the regency, while if the bluff were successful, the regency would be unrestricted.
However this may have been, Fox's attempt raised a tremendous outcry, and the Prince (among whose qualities loyalty was not included) instructed the Duke of York to say in the House of Lords that, "His Royal Highness understands too well the sacred principles which seated the House of Brunswick on the throne of Great Britain, ever to assume or exercise any power,be his claim whatit may, not derived fromthe will of the people, expressed by their representatives and your lordships in Parliament assembled."
Pitt now introduced resolutions for a restricted regency, and these, in spite of violent protests in both chambers,[259]were finally agreed to on December 30, when they were submitted to the Prince of Wales. The Prince had repeatedly stated he would under no circumstances accept the office if the exercise of power was hampered with restrictions. Such conditions, which were only to endure for a limited time, were, however, regarded as essential in the interest of the King should he recover, and ministers would not give way. Indeed, the Prince's threats were regarded, we have been told by a contemporary, "as nothing more than a bully intended to influence votes in the House of Commons. If, however, he should be so desperate, I should hopethat there would be every reason to believe the Queen would be induced to take the regency in order to prevent the King's hands being fettered for the remainder of his life."[260]In the end, as every one expected, the Prince yielded under protest, whereupon Pitt at once introduced a Regency Bill, which, after a most acrimonious struggle, passed the Commons on February 12, and was carried to the House of Lords.
In the meantime the King's condition had been gradually improving. At a further examination of the physicians on January 7, although Dr. Warren and Sir George Baker were far from confident, Willis considered recovery certain. "A little more time is all I ask," said the latter. "Even as days go on I do not despair."[261]Willis stated that whereas a fortnight earlier, his Majesty would take up books but could not read a line of them, now he could peruse several pages and make sensible remarks upon the subject, that he was less excited and less frequently required restraint, and "in the main his Majesty does everything in a more rational way than he did, and some things extremely rational."[262]
George's senses were certainly returning to him.One day he desired to have £400 from his Privy Purse, and this he divided into different sums, and wrapped them up in separate papers upon which he wrote the names of persons to whom he was accustomed to make monthly payments. He then wrote down the different sums, and the names, added them up, as had been his custom, and ordered the money to be paid immediately as it was then due.[263]Another incident that occurred at this time was subsequently related by the Princess Royal. Dr. Willis had refused to let George read "King Lear," but the patient outwitted the doctor by asking for Colman's works, in which he knew he would find the play as altered by Colman for the stage. When the three elder Princesses went in to the King, he told them what he had been reading. He said, "It is very beautiful, very affecting, and very awful," adding, "I am like poor Lear, but thank God, I have no Regan, no Goneril, but three Cordelias."[264]
The King's recovery was proceeding apace, but when Dr. Willis was inclined to believe the disorder had all but passed, a new obsession arose. George had long been attracted by the stately beautyof Lady Pembroke,[265]and now he fancied himself divorced from the Queen, whom he called the Queen Dowager, and the other Queen Elizabeth, and said between them he was pulled to pieces, and then what was to become of poor Pill Garlick.[266]"His Majesty could not be prevailed upon, indeed he absolutely refused, to see the Queen!" Mrs. Papendiek noted. "He said that he had always respected her and had paid her every attention, but when she should have screened his malady from the public she had deserted him to the care of those who had used him ill, insomuch as they had forgotten him to be their sovereign; that he had always felt a great partiality for Queen Elizabeth, and with her, upon a proper agreement, he would end his days."[267]However, this delusion began to give way, and soon he consented to receive the Queen daily, "if she has no objection to see me in the abject state in which I must appear before her," he said pathetically; but he was not yet cured, and still rambled and had a slight return of fever. Gradually, however, his strength returned, and by slow degrees he was led to resume his former habits. On February 14 Miss Burney stated triumphantly,"The King is infinitely better," and four days later she gave vent to a pæan of joy: "This was a sweet, and will prove a memorable day: the Regency was put off in the House of Lords, by a motion from the Chancellor. Huzza! Huzza! And this evening, for the first time, the King came upstairs, to drink tea with the Queen and Princesses in the drawing-room! My heart was so full of joy and thankfulness, I could hardly breathe! Heaven—Heaven be praised! What a different house is this house become!—sadness and terror, that wholly occupied it so lately, are now flown away, or rather are now driven out; and though anxiety still forcibly prevails, 'tis in so small a proportion to joy and thankfulness, that it is borne as if scarce an ill!"[268]
There was, indeed, no doubt that George was nearly well. On February 14, Henry Addington wrote to his father that "Dr. Warren particularly observes that the appearance of the King's eyes is vastly improved; and his pulse is certainly reduced from 100 to 62 in a minute. The last is the rate of it when in health. It is now generally believed that no change of Government will take place at present;"[269]and three days later Dr. Willis told the Lord Chancellor that the Regencybill ought not to be proceeded with as the King's disorder was practically removed. This Lord Thurlow declined at first to believe, but when the doctor threatened that if his statement was disregarded, he would publish the news of the King's recovery, Thurlow consented to visit the King and judge for himself. "No politics," said the King, when he consented to receive the minister; "my head is not strong enough for that subject."[270]The interview convinced Lord Thurlow that Willis was right, and two days later he rose in the House of Lords to announce a great improvement in the monarch's condition, and adjourned the debate for a week, when the consideration of the bill was not resumed.
On the 20th Lord Thurlow again visited the King, and this time gave him an outline of events that had transpired during his illness. "I never saw at any period, the King more composed, collected, or distinct," the Chancellor told Pitt, "and there was not the slightest trace or appearance of disorder." Three days later the King received the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, who had repeatedly demanded an interview. "The Queen," Sir Gilbert Elliot has related, "was present, and walking to and fro in the room with a countenance and manner of great dissatisfaction;and the King every now and then went to her in a submissive manner and spoke in a soothing sort of tone, for she has acquired the same sort of drilling over him that Willis and his men have—and the King's mind is totally subdued and in a state of the greatest weakness and subjection. It is given out even by the King's friends that they observed nothingwrongor irrational in this visit, and it is material that they should not be thought to publish the contrary. It is not entirely true, however, as the King made several slips, one of which was that he told them he was the Chancellor. This circumstance is not to be mentioned for the reasons just given."[271]After seeing his sons the King wrote to the Prime Minister for the first time since he had been taken ill.
"It is with infinite satisfaction that I renew my correspondence with Mr. Pitt by acquainting him with my having seen the Prince of Wales and my second son. Care was taken that the conversation should be general and cordial. They seemed perfectly satisfied. I chose the meeting should be in the Queen's apartment, that all parties might have that caution, which, at the present hour could but be judicious.
"I desire Mr. Pitt will confer with the Lord Chancellor,that any steps which may be necessary for raising the annual supplies or any measures that the interests of the nation may require, should not be unnecessarily delayed, for I feel the warmest gratitude for the support and anxiety shown by the nation at large during my tedious illness, which I should ill requite if I did not wish to prevent any further delay in those public measures which it may be necessary to bring forward this year; though I must decline entering into a pressure of business, and, indeed, for the rest of my life, shall expect others to fulfil the duties of their employments, and only keep that superintending eye which can be effected without labour or fatigue."
The last bulletin, signed by Dr. Willis, Sir George Baker, and Sir Lucas Pepys, and announcing "the entire cessation of his Majesty's illness" appeared on February 26; and on March 2 an order was issued by the Privy Council to discontinue the form of prayer for the recovery of his Majesty's health, and substitute a prayer of thanksgiving. On March 7 the Speaker of the House of Commons and several members of the Administration saw the King when "it was observed by all that his Majesty never appeared more healthy, easy, and cheerful, within their recollection[272];" and onthe 10th the Speech from the Throne, delivered by commission, stated that the King had resumed his authority, and that day was given up to rejoicing. "London displayed a blaze of light from one extremity to the other; the illuminations extending, without any metaphor, from Hampstead and Highgate to Clapham, and even as far as Tooting; while the vast distance between Greenwich and Kensington presented the same dazzling appearance. The poorest mechanics contributed their proportion, and instances were exhibited of cobblers' stalls decorated with one or two farthing candles."[273]
"Our prayers are heard, and Providence restoresA Patriot King to bless Britannia's shores!Nor yet to Britain is this bliss confined,All Europe hails the friend of human kind.If, such the general joys, what words can showThe change to transport from the depths of woeIn those permitted to embrace again.The best of Fathers, Husbands, and of men."[274]
"Our prayers are heard, and Providence restoresA Patriot King to bless Britannia's shores!Nor yet to Britain is this bliss confined,All Europe hails the friend of human kind.If, such the general joys, what words can showThe change to transport from the depths of woeIn those permitted to embrace again.The best of Fathers, Husbands, and of men."[274]
On March 11 George received an Address of the Lords and Commons on his recovery, on the 13th the congratulations of thecorps diplomatique, and on the next day went to Windsor, when "All Windsor came out to meet the King. It was a joy amounting to ecstasy. I could not keep my eyesdry all day long. A scene so reversed—sadness so sweetly exchanged for thankfulness and delight!"[275]Everywhere there was rejoicing, Ambassadors and Ministers gave banquets to celebrate the occasion, and there were fêtes at Court and balls at the clubs.[276]The dislike of the populace to the King had disappeared entirely, and their hearts had gone out to him in his time of trouble. Sir Lucas Pepys told Miss Burney that if George died the lives of himself and his colleagues would be in danger, for they received threatening letters daily. Sir George Baker was stopped by the mob, and when in reply to an inquiry he answered, "The case is a bad one," "The more shame for you," came angry cries from all sides. But the greatest outburst of enthusiasm was on St. George's Day (April 23), when the King went in state to St. Paul's "to return thanks to God for His mercy in giving the King his health and reason once more." The physiciansand others, fearful of the possible effects of the excitement, endeavoured to dissuade the King from participating in this public ceremony, but in vain, "My Lord," said George to the Archbishop of Canterbury, "I have twice read over the evidence of the physicians on my case, and if I can stand that, I can stand anything."
THE ROYAL FAMILY OF ENGLAND IN 1787From an old printTHE ROYAL FAMILY OF ENGLAND IN 1787
From an old print
THE ROYAL FAMILY OF ENGLAND IN 1787
THE KING'S CHILDREN
The trouble that George III experienced through the misdemeanours of his brothers and the misfortunes of his sisters was as nothing compared to the anxiety caused him by his children[277]and notably by his sons. Yet, bad as was the behaviour of the latter, they might well plead extenuating circumstances in the shape of their mother and father. The King could never profit by experience, and he learnt nothing from the evil results that accrued from the harsh methods employed in the nurseries of the Princess dowager, with the result that, bringing up his children on the same lines, henot unnaturally produced similar effects. The Queen, too, having none of those qualities that promote happiness in a family and tend to unite it in harmony, was not more successful as a mother than her consort as a father. "It is not surprising, therefore, that the younger members of the family longed for the day when they should be emancipated from the sober state and grim decorum of the palace. The princes rushed into the brilliant world of pleasure and excitement which awaited them with headlong impetuosity; but the less fortunate princesses were doomed to repine in their dreary captivity, longing for marriage, as the only event which could release them."[278]
Yet George was fond of his children, especially when they were young. He interested himself in their education and their pursuits; and it has been related how when he was talking with a Scotch lady about Scotland, and suddenly became absorbed in thought, "Your Majesty, I presume, is thinking about my country," said his companion. "I was entreating God," he replied, "to protect and bless my dear boys."
The daughters gave little trouble, except the Princess Royal, who, according to Mrs. Papendiek, rather set herself against the Queen. "She was incensedat her mother constantly inviting to Windsor the daughters of such families as were attached to the Government party, saying that they could not amuse the King, but only ran idly about the house, interrupting everybody; and she desired her Lady-in-waiting to say that she never received any one in the morning. Her Royal Highness now averred that she had never liked the Queen, from her excessive severity, that she had doubted her judgment on many points, and went so far as to say that she was a silly woman."[279]The hand of the Princess Charlotte was sought in 1796 by the Crown Prince of Würtemburg; but some delay occurred before a definite acceptance of the offer was made, as there was some mystery concerning the fate of the Crown Prince's first wife. After inquiries, however, George III expressed himself satisfied with the explanations tendered to him, and in the following year the marriage took place. The account of her farewell interview with her father shows that at least the Princess's objection to one parent did not extend to the other. "The last interview between his Majesty and his royal daughter was of the most affecting kind. The Princess hung upon her father's neck, overwhelmed in grief, and it was not until her consort urged her to close the painful scene,that she could be prevailed upon to leave her father. The affectionate parent followed her to bid her farewell, but he was so overcome by the excess of his parental feelings, that he could not give utterance to his words, and his streaming eyes looked the last blessing, which his lips could not pronounce." With her departure from England in May, 1797, this Princess passes out of English history.
There was little desire expressed by foreign Princes for an alliance with the daughters of George III, and this reluctance to marry members of the English Royal family must be attributed mainly to the knowledge of European sovereigns and their families of the malady from which the King suffered. Prince Ferdinand of Würtemburg, who was in the Austrian army and had distinguished himself in the taking of Belgrade from the Turks, came over in 1791 to propose a marriage with Princess Augusta, then, to quote Mrs. Papendiek, "certainly the most beautiful creature one could wish to see;" but the King refused his suit, partly because he was "two removes from the Dukedom," and partly because he would not let the younger Princesses marry before the elder.[280]Subsequently Louis Phillippe became engaged to Princess Elizabeth, but he jilted her for Marie Amélie,daughter of the King of Naples; and after this it looked as if all the royal ladies would become old maids. Princess Amelia escaped this fate by contracting a morganatic alliance with General Fitzroy;[281]and at the age of fifty Princess Mary married William Frederick, Duke of Gloucester, who had been held in reserve for Princess Charlotte of Wales in case no other alliance offered.
Princess Augusta and Princess Sophia remained single; but, when she was forty-eight, Princess Elizabeth conceived a passion for matrimony. Not without difficulty apartiwas found for the mature lady, and on April 8, 1818, she was united to the Landgrave of Hesse-Homburg, who, according to all accounts, had an objectionable appearance and a ridiculous manner. "A monster of a man, a vulgar-looking German corporal, whose breath is a compound between tobacco and garlic; he has about £300per annum," so Fremantle described him; but these defects did not deter the middle-aged spinster. "The Princess of Hesse-Homburg will redeem the character of good behaviour in the conjugal bonds, lost or mislaid by her family," wrote Mrs. Trench. "She is delighted with herhero, as she calls him. On his way from the scene of the marriage ceremony tothe Regent's Cottage, where, to his great annoyance, they were destined to pass the first quarter of the honeymoon, he was sick, from being unused to a close carriage, and forced to leave her for the dickey, and put Baron O'Naghten in his place. He said he was not so muchennuyéat the Cottage as he expected, having passed all his time in his dressing-gown and slippers smoking in the conservatory."[282]The Landgrave was, indeed, a good man, kind-hearted, fond of books, and with more learning than the majority of minor German princes, and he certainly made his wife very happy. "I have so very many things to be thankful for that I ever feel I cannot do too much to prove my feelings both towards God and my excellent husband," the Landgravine wrote to Lady Harcourt on January 21, 1821. "Though I lived in a degree of magnificence and splendour whilst with my sister, I can with truth say that I was thoroughly happy to see my own dear little Homburg again." This, curiously enough, was the only happy marriage contracted by a child of George III.
"If anything can make a democracy in England, it will be the royal family,"[283]wrote Lord Minto, and no one may quarrel with this statement, nor withthe lines of Shelley, in which the ruling caste in 1819 is described:
"An old, mad, blind, despised and dying King,Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flowThrough public scorn, mud from a muddy spring."
"An old, mad, blind, despised and dying King,Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flowThrough public scorn, mud from a muddy spring."
All the sons of George III were more or less wild, and all of them without exception were a source of trouble to their mother and father. Of those seven who grew up the two that caused least anxiety to their parents were Augustus, Duke of Sussex, and Adolphus, Duke of Cambridge; the latter led a quiet life in England until 1816, when he was appointed Governor of Hanover, and while there married Wilhelmina Louisa, daughter of Frederick, Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, by whom he had three children. The former differed from all his brothers in so far that he had a taste for literature, and an affection for books. At the age of twenty he married Lady Augusta Murray and though the marriage, being contracted in defiance of the provisions of the Royal Marriage Act, was declared null and void, he did not during her lifetime contract another matrimonial alliance. After her death, however, he married Lady Cecilia Buggins (néeUnderwood), who was subsequently created by Queen Victoria Duchess of Inverness in her own right. The Duke was of a retiring disposition,and, being happy in the library he had formed in his apartments in Kensington Palace, took no part in the political and very little share in the social life of his day.
The Duke of Clarence did not come into open conflict with the King and Queen, and his life was uneventful, with the exception of his connection with Dora Jordan and his marriage in 1818 with Adelaide, eldest daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. The Duke of Kent, too, interested himself but little in public affairs, and lived abroad for many years with Madame St. Laurent, by whom he had twelve children. He was devoted to this lady, and was fearful lest, to assure the succession, he should be compelled to marry. Notwithstanding, he expressed his intention to do so if it should be necessary, though, he said, "God only knows the sacrifice it will be to make whenever I shall think it my duty to become a married man." Eventually he married the widow of Charles Louis, Prince of Leiningen, by whom he had issue, one daughter, Victoria.
Though George III was not on friendly terms with any of his sons, and was careful to keep them, so far as possible, out of England, it was his remaining children that caused him the most serious unhappiness. The Prince of Wales, Frederick, Duke of York, and Ernest, Duke ofCumberland, were so many thorns in the flesh.
The conduct of the Prince of Wales need here only be referred to,en passant,[284]his behaviour from first to last was marked by no degree of affection or respect for his parents, or, indeed, by any consideration of decency. From an early age, encouraged by his uncle and aunt, the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland, he plunged into debauchery of every kind. While still in his teens, hisliaisonswere notorious, his losses at the cardtable considerable, and his extravagance gigantic. When he came of age he threw himself into the arms of the Opposition, and soon was at open enmity with his father. What might have happened if George III had been a wise parent, or even possessed of ordinary commonsense, cannot be said, but his methods of strict repression and his want of sympathetic insight alienated his boys one by one. Even into the Journal of Mrs. Papendiek, that undiscriminating eulogiser of the King and Queen, has crept one example of the gracelessness of the monarch, when, after his illness, wine had been recommended to him in very small quantities to assist digestion. "As hisMajesty had never taken it he doubted its efficacy. The Prince of Wales sent a few bottles of the finest Madeira, so he said, that the island had ever produced, and proposed tasting it with the King when the family dined at four o'clock. The King thanked his Royal Highness, but said he hoped for the credit of his gentlemen of the wine cellar, and for the pleasure of those who partook of such indulgences, that the best was always provided. For himself it would be his last treat, as he was sure it did him more harm than good."[285]
For a long time the Prince of Wales was his mother's darling, and Miss Burney has related how in 1786, "the Queen read him that paper from 'The Tatler' which gives an account of a young man of good heart and sweet disposition, who is allured by pleasure into a libertine life, which he pursues by habit, but with constant remorse and ceaseless shame and unhappiness." "It was impossible for me to miss her object," Miss Burney commented; "all the mother was in her voice while she read it, and her glistening eyes told the application made throughout."[286]But the heir-apparent had neither remorse nor shame, and his conduct wore down the love of his mother, as in courseof time it dissipated the affection of everyone but Mrs. Fitzherbert, to whom he behaved as disgracefully as man may behave to woman. The Queen bore with much neglect, but even she could not pardon her dearest son's conduct when his father was suffering from the mental malady that broke out in 1788. Then the Prince, like the graceless heir he was, cared for nothing save to secure the royal power. He took the government of the Castle into his own hands and intrigued openly for an unrestricted Regency; but what affected the Queen, always jealous of her authority, was that he promptly delegated her to a second place. When Dr. Warren made his report, not to the Queen, but to the Prince of Wales, she was much upset. "I think a deeper blow I have never witnessed," Miss Burney remarked. "Already to become but second, even for the King! The tears were not wiped; indignation arose, with pain, the severest pain, of every species."[287]This hit her in her tenderest spot, her dignity was assailed, and henceforth, with brief intervals of peace following on reconciliations, she fought tooth and nail against her eldest son. In the eyes of George III his son's profligate conduct and his extravagance were terrible, but these were as triflescompared to his publication of the King's letters in 1803 after a dispute as to the heir-apparent's right to a military command. When a nobleman was complaining to the King of his heir's disgraceful conduct, "Yes," said the poor old man, "but he has never published your letters!"
The Duke of York followed in the footsteps of his elder brother, and with as good a will gambled and indulged in dissipation, a course he did not abandon after his marriage with Frederica, the eldest daughter of Frederick William II of Prussia. Sent on active service to the Netherlands, he was unsuccessful in the field, and was recalled by Pitt, much to the anger of the King,[288]who, on his returnto England appointed him Commander-in-Chief, in which capacity he proved himself a capable administrator. The scandal occasioned by the sale of commissions by his mistress, Mrs. Mary Ann Clarke,[289]caused him to resign, but, after an interval, he was reinstated, and held the post until his death. He was his father's favourite son, but he found the Court so dull that he seldom stayed under the parental roof; but, though he was not a good son, he was a weak rather than a bad man, and had many amiable qualities that endeared him to a large circle of friends.
Of the private life of the Duke of Cumberland the less said the better. Scandals accumulated around him like leaves on a tree, and most of them, for example, those connected with Sellis and the birth of Colonel Garth, are too unedifying to be discussed. There was no shameless crime ofwhich he was not believed guilty, and he was so deeply loathed by the people that had he succeeded to the throne there were many who declared his accession would be followed by a general rising.
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1793Photo by Emery Walker. From a painting by Karl Anton HickelTHE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1793
Photo by Emery Walker. From a painting by Karl Anton Hickel
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS IN 1793
1789-1806
George III, as we have seen, had not been a favourite with his subjects, but in his distress the great heart of his people went out to him. His parsimony, his political intrigues, even his breaches of faith were forgotten by many and forgiven by more, and the sympathy of the whole nation was extended to him. Gillray might caricature, and "Peter Pindar" lampoon; the thought of the mightiest monarch in Christendom at the mercy of a mad-doctor was too touching for laughter and henceforth the title of "Farmer George" was not a sneer but a token of affection. The popularity that came to him on his recovery was very grateful to George, and he told George Hardinge that "his illness had in the end been a perfect bliss to him, as proving how nobly the people would support him when he was confined." This healthy feeling was of great value as it steadied the country at the time when the French Revolution and its effects were devastating Europe, and through the dark days which were to follow before the reign ended in a blaze of glory that at an interval of ten years culminated in Trafalgar and Waterloo. It was this revival of personal loyaltythat enabled Englishmen to content themselves with an indulgent smile when their King declared to Colonel Landmann, "I should like to fight Bony single-handed: I'm sure I should; I should give him a good thrashing, I'm sure I should—I'm sure of it"; and brought monarch and people in harmony when in the days of the expected French invasion, "The King in this summer of excitement, was constantly to be seen at Windsor in the cocked-hat and jack-boots of the blues, in which regiment he had a troop of his own. He inspected the volunteers, who were drawn up under the wall of the Round Tower. He invited their officers to be present at the Sunday evening performances of sacred music. He walked upon the Terrace—'every inch a King'—and would call, with a stentorian voice, for the band to play, 'Britons, strike home.'"[290]
The first proof of the agreeable alteration in his people's feelings towards him was made clear to the King, when, by his physician's advice, he left Windsor in June 1789 for Weymouth. That seaside resort went mad with loyalty, and so great was the enthusiasm that in the parish church of Lyndhurst "God save the King" was substituted for a psalm. "The preparations of festive loyalty were universal," Miss Burney has written. "Nota child could we meet that had not abandeauround its head, cap, or hat, of 'God save the King'; all the bargemen wore it in cockades, and even the bathing-women had it in large coarse girdles round their waists. It is printed in golden letters upon most of the bathing-machines, and in various scrolls and devices it adorns every shop and almost every house in the two towns ... Melcombe Regis and Weymouth. The King bathes, and with great success; a machine follows the royal one into the sea, filled with fiddlers, who play 'God save the King,' as his Majesty takes his plunge!"[291]
At Weymouth, George bathed, rode, paid visits to various towns and country seats in the neighbourhood, went to the little theatre, and was everywhere welcomed with a heartiness to which he had been a stranger since the first months of his reign. The life of the Court there was, of course, very quiet. "The King's bathing agreed beyond anything with him," Mrs. Harcourt wrote, "the Princess also looks well, but the Queen looks, I think, very ill, and by all accounts has been so low and languid that nothing but real illness can account for it. She always appears to me to look worse and worse every time I have seen her for the last half-year. Her foot is bad, but she walksa little. They have no society at all but those you know of. Mr. Pitt and Lord Grenville are here, but never asked in. The party has always been the Queen, Princess Royal, Lord Chesterfield and General Harcourt at casino; Princess Elizabeth, Lady Mary, Lady Caroline, Colonel Gwyn at cribbage; the King, Colonel Garth, and Lord Chesterfield at piquet. Lord and Lady Courtoun and Princess Augusta have hitherto played at piquet, but now I make a fourth. On Sunday, at eight, we all went to the rooms, which is, without exception, the oddest ceremony I ever saw. A very large room, two or three hundred people, none of which, except the two Lady Beauclerks and three or four men, one ever heard of. It is a circle like a drawing-room exactly, and there they stand—or walk, if they can—for about half-an-hour; then go into the card room, which opens into it, and where there are two or three tables. The King and Queen or Princesses play, the people all walking by the door, and looking in, but not coming in. The King walked about a little more; and they all went away at ten."[292]
There were one or two amusing incidents to enliven the dull routine, as when an old man, in the exuberance of his loyalty, kissed the back of theKing as the latter came out of the water, and was solemnly assured by the royal attendants that he had committed an act of high treason.[293]Miss Burney witnessed another laughable episode. "When the Mayor and Burgesses came with the Address, they requested leave to kiss hands: this was graciously accorded; but the Mayor advancing, in a common way, to take the Queen's hand, as he might that of any Lady Mayoress, Colonel Gwyn, who stood by, whispered, 'You must kneel, sir!' He found, however, that he took no notice of this hint, but kissed the Queen's hand erect. As he passed him in his way back, the Colonel said, 'You should have knelt, sir.' 'Sir,' answered the poor Mayor, 'I cannot.' 'Everybody does.' 'Sir—I have a wooden leg.' Poor man! 'twas such a surprise! and such an excuse as no one could dispute."[294]It was, however, on a subsequent visit of the royal family to Weymouth that a most ludicrous event happened. Colonel Landmann, a German on the staff of the Duke of Cumberland, then in command of the district, was on the Esplanade when he heard cries of "The Queen! The Queen!" He walked towards the bathing place, looking round, however, to catch a glimpse of her Majesty. "I hadnot, however, taken two steps in that way, without looking before me," he told the story, "when I felt that I had come in contact with a female, whom, to save her and myself from falling, I encircled with my arms; and at the same moment, having observed that the person whom I had so embraced was a little old woman, with a small black silk bonnet, exactly similar to those now commonly worn by poor and aged females, and the remainder of her person was covered by a short, plain scarlet cloth cloak, I exclaimed, 'Hallo, old lady, I very nearly had you down.' In an instant I felt her push me from her with energy and indignation, and I was seized by a great number of persons, who grasped me tightly by the arms and shoulders, whilst a tall, stout fellow in a scarlet livery, stood close before my face, sharply striking the pavement with the heavy ferule of a long, golden-headed cane, his eyes flashing fire, and loudly repeating, 'The Queen—the Queen—the Queen, sir!' 'Where?—where?—where?' I loudly retorted, greatly perplexed and even irritated, as I anxiously cast an inquisitive look about me, amongst the twenty or forty persons by whom I was surrounded. 'I am the Queen!' sharply exclaimed the old lady. On this discovery I did not totally lose my presence of mind; for without the delay of a moment Ifell on one knee, and seizing the hem of the Queen's dress, was about to apply it to my lips, after the German fashion, stammering out at the same time the best apology I was able to put together on so short a notice; when the Queen, although I believe much offended, and certainly not without cause, softened her irritated features, and said, as she held out to me the back of her right hand: 'No, no, no, you may kiss my hant. We forgiff: you must pee more careful; fery rute—fery rute, inteet; we forgiff; there, you may go'."
In September the King, supposed to be completely recovered, and certainly for the moment in good health, returned to Windsor to take up again the reins of government.
It is not proposed to treat further of the politics of the reign, nor of the Administrations entrusted with the conduct of the affairs of the nation. Such matters have been introduced into the pages of this work, which has no pretensions to be a political history of the period with which it deals, merely to show that aspect of the character of the King which became exposed in relation to politics. There has been traced, though only in outline, his attempts to "be King" as he and his mother understood it, his successful struggle with the Whig oligarchy, the decade when to a greatextent he was his own minister, his defeat at the hands of Fox, and his subsequent victory over that statesman, and the appointment as Prime Minister of his favourite, Pitt.
During the seventeen years that the younger Pitt ruled, however, the power fell from George III, who little by little was reluctantly compelled to abandon the system of personal government for which he had fought so long and so strenuously. It was not, perhaps, entirely because he was attached to Pitt that he supported him, but because to have intrigued successfully against him could only result in giving office again to Fox. Thus, though George ventured to express disapproval of certain measures of the Government, such as the plan for parliamentary reform, and the proceedings against Warren Hastings, he had to content himself with ineffectual protests, not daring to take any drastic step that would drive the minister to resign. "There was too much originality in Mr. Pitt's character to allow him to be acceptable to the King," Nicholls has stated. "I believe they had many quarrels. There was one in particular, which became generally known. The King had relied that he could make Mr. William Grenville minister, in case he was compelled to separate himself from Mr. Pitt. Mr. Pitt determined todeprive the King of this great card. He therefore suggested to his Majesty that it was necessary that Mr. Grenville should be placed in the House of Lords. The King saw Mr. Pitt's object and resisted. It was said that this resistance was carried to such a length that Mr. Pitt had actually resigned, but that the Queen prevailed on the King to yield to Mr. Pitt's demand. Mr. William Grenville was removed to the House of Lords, and thus the King was deprived of the only man whom he could have named as successor to Mr. Pitt in the House of Commons."[295]
After this vain endeavour to secure his emancipation, the King remained quiescent for a long time, and indeed showered favours upon the minister. He offered him the Garter in 1790, and on the death of Lord North two years later appointed him to the (then) lucrative position of Warden of the Cinque Ports, subsequently offering £30,000 from the Privy Purse for the settlement of the minister's debts.[296]He even consented at Pitt's bidding in 1792 to dismiss Thurlow, whose insubordination was becoming a nuisance, if not a danger to the Administration. Thus Pitt was not hampered in his efforts to guide England while the French Revolution was raging,and, indeed, he might have held office for life but for his desire to complete his Irish policy with a conciliatory measure for Catholic Emancipation. To any such concession George was obdurate, and Pitt's attitude caused him many sleepless nights. He asked General Garth to read aloud the coronation oath, and, when this was done, remarked in tones of great agitation: "Where is that power on earth to absolve me from the due observance of every sentence of that oath, particularly the one requiring me to 'maintain the Protestant Reformed religion'? Was not my family seated on the throne for that express purpose? And shall I be the first to suffer it to be undermined, perhaps overturned? No, I had rather beg my bread from door to door throughout Europe than consent to any such measure." In vain Lord Eldon stated that "his Majesty was not in any degree fettered by his coronation oath in giving assent to a measure which should have the previous approbation of both Houses of Parliament": the King only replied: "I can give up my crown, and retire from power. I can quit my palace, and live in a cottage. I can lay my head on a block and lose my life, but I cannot break my coronation oath."[297]
Against such obstinacy and bigotry the gods contendin vain, and, in consequence of this difference of opinion, Pitt resigned on March 14, 1801. Addington succeeded him and for a while had his predecessor's support; but several of the measures of the new Administration displeased Pitt, who gradually fell into opposition, and, on Addington's resignation in May, 1804, became again Prime Minister, on condition that he did not offer office to Fox, with whom he had fought against Addington. He had, however, on the King's recovery from another mental attack, volunteered a promise not to introduce a measure for Catholic emancipation during George's lifetime.
Pitt died on January 6, 1806, and then the King had no alternative but to send for Lord Grenville. "When Pitt died, and old Nobbs sent for Grenville to make the Government," Creevey has stated, "the latter would not listen to any prejudice against Fox, but made the Crown divide the Government between them."[298]To accept Fox was even more unpalatable than ever to George. Fox had triumphantly beaten the Court candidate at the famous Westminster election, he had sided with the Prince of Wales, had expressed himself as in sympathy with the principles, though not the excesses, of the French Revolution, and had given at a Whig club the toast of "The Sovereignty ofthe People of Great Britain," for which last deed, the King in Council, having ordered the Council-book to be laid before him, erased the name of the Honourable Charles James Fox from the list of Privy Councillors.[299]
"At the period of Mr. Fox's return to power the King, then in full possession of his faculties, showed for several days considerable uneasiness of mind," Princess Augusta wrote. "A cloud seemed to overhang his spirits. On his return one day from London the cloud was evidently removed, and his Majesty, on entering the room where the Queen and Princess Augusta were, said he had news to tell them. 'I have taken Mr. Fox for my minister, and on the whole am satisfied with the arrangement.'" George behaved unexpectedly well, for when Fox entered the royal closet to kiss hands as Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, "Mr. Fox," he said, "I little thought you and I should ever meet again in this place; but I have no desire to look back upon old grievances, and you may rest assured I shall never remind you of them." To which Fox replied dutifully: "My deeds, and not my words, shall commend me to your Majesty;" and until his death lived on amicable terms with his sovereign.
LAST YEARS
The King's health was a matter of great anxiety to the royal physicians, even after his recovery in 1789, and during the hot weather of the following year their watchfulness had to be redoubled. "The present object of the doctors was to prevent the King from dozing during the day, and also to try and keep him from brooding over things too closely. The French Revolution was going on, and affairs in that country were becoming very serious. Holland, too, was unsettled, and they were very anxious that his Majesty should be called upon to do as little business as possible. The King could not be on horseback after twelve o'clock, as the heat of the sun on his head was much feared. The Queen, therefore, had three double carriages made with cane bodies, and covered in with silk or oilskin, according to the weather, and thus they were enabled to pay noon visits to the sweet country seats near at hand, and beguile the time until dinner, at four."[300]This trouble passed in due course, and it seemed asif George was in thoroughly good health, and likely to continue so indefinitely. "It is impossible to describe to you how perfectly well the King is," Lord Auckland wrote to Morton Eden on December 12, 1791. "He is quite an altered man, and not what you knew him even before his illness. His manner is gentle, quiet, and, when he is pleased, quite cordial. He speaks, even of those who are opposed to his government, with complacency, and without sneer or acrimony. As long as he remains so well, the tranquillity of this country is on a rock, for the public property is great and the nation is right-minded, and the commerce and resources are increasing."[301]
Years passed without any mental trouble, but gradually events happened that preyed upon the mind of the King, who, now no longer a young man, was less able to resist them. For a long time he had been perturbed by the unhappy relations between the Prince and Princess of Wales and, when in 1801 Pitt demanded permission to introduce a measure for the emancipation of the Catholics, he brooded over the matter until his mind became again unhinged.[302]On February 15 he took a severe cold, always the first symptom of one of his attacks—but this apparently gave wayto treatment. "As for my cold, it is well," he said then to Lord Chatham; "but what else I have, I owe to your brother." On the 22nd inst., however, his mind wandered, and on the following day he was unconscious until evening when he exclaimed, "I am better now, but I will remain true to the Church—I will remain true to the Church,"[303]and anathematized Pitt and other ministers favourable to the obnoxious measure. He was seriously ill on March 2, but from that day grew slowly better, and on the 6th instructed Dr. Willis to write to the minister. "Tell him I am now quite well—quite recovered from my illness; but what has he not to answer for who is the cause of my having been ill at all?" It was then that Pitt, much perturbed and perplexed, told George he would never re-introduce the subject during his reign, whereupon the King exclaimed joyfully, "Now my mind will be at ease!"[304]He received in person and with much kindliness the resignation of Pitt on March 14, and handed the seals of office to Henry Addington.
The excitement attendant upon these political events caused a relapse, and George remained for some time at Kew under the care of the Willises. "I'm very, very sorry the poor King has been, and continuesill, for it has been and will be a public calamity from its consequences, but exclusive ofpublicills among which the loss of Lord Cornwallis here isirreparable, the private misfortunes of the royal family goes to one's heart," Lady Sarah Napier wrote from Dublin to Lady Susan O'Brien on April 20, 1801. "Great people suffer sorrow doubly; poor souls, they are not made to it, till it comes with violence, and then it drives to indifference or despair."[305]In May those who were allowed to see George inclined to the belief that he was well, but the Duke of Clarence declared that "he pitied the (royal) family, for he saw something in the King that convinced him he must soon be confined again." Still, in spite of this distressing prognostication, on May 25 Dr. Thomas Willis was able to send an assuring report to Lord Eldon: "This morning I walked with his Majesty, who was in a perfectly composed and quiet state. He told me, with great seeming satisfaction, that he had a most charming night, 'he could sleep from eleven to half after four,' when, alas! he had but three hours sleep in the night, which, upon the whole, was passed in restlessness—in getting out of bed, opening the shutters, in praying violently, and in making such remarks as betray a consciousness of his own situation, but which are evidently made for the purpose of concealing it from the Queen.He frequently called out, 'I am perfectly well, and my Queen, my Queen has saved me.'"[306]However, the improvement was not sustained, for on June 12 Willis wrote in a different strain: "His Majesty still talks much of his prudence, but shows none. His body, mind, and tongue are all upon the stretch every minute; and the manner in which he is now expending money, which is so unlike him when well, all evince that he is not so right as he should be."[307]A few days later, however, the King pronounced himself well when he, who hated the Willises, father and son, dismissed from attendance Dr. Robert Willis, and, in spite of the Lord Chancellor's remonstrances, declined to reinstate the physician.
"Kew,June 21, 1801.
"The King would not do justice to the feelings of his heart, if he an instant delayed expressing his conviction of the attachment the Lord Chancellor bears him, of which the letter now before him is a fresh proof; but at the same time he cannot but in the strongest manner decline having Dr. Robert Willis about him. The line of practice followed with great credit by that gentleman, renders it incompatible with the King's feelings that he should—now by the goodness of Divine Providence restoredto reason—consult a person of that description. His Majesty is perfectly satisfied with the zeal and attention of Dr. Gisborne, in whose absence he will consult Sir Francis Milman, but cannot bear consulting any of the Willis family, though he will ever respect the character and conduct of Dr. Robert Willis. No person that ever had a nervous fever can bear to continue the physician employed on the occasion; and this holds much more so in the calamitous one that has so long confined the King, but of which he is now completely recovered.
"George R."[308]
"The subject of the Princess of Wales is still in the King's mind, to a degree that is distressing, from the unfortunate situation of the family," Princess Elizabeth wrote to Dr. Thomas Willis during the illness of her father, who was no sooner able to go out than he visited his persecuted daughter-in-law. "The first time he rode out after his illness he rode over Westminster Bridge to Blackheath, never telling any one where he was going till he turned up to the Princess's door. She was not up, but jumped out of bed, and went to receive him in her bed-gown and night-cap. He told Lord Uxbridge that the Princess had run in his head during his illness perpetually, and he had madea resolution to go and see her the first time he went out, without telling anybody."[309]After this visit George went to Weymouth, returning to London on October 29 to open Parliament in person, after which he settled down at Windsor, where at the end of November Lord Malmesbury visited him. "I was with the King nearly two hours. I had not seen him since the end of October, 1800—of course not since his last illness. He appeared rather more of an old man, but not older than men of his age commonly appear. He stoops rather more, and was apparently less firm on his legs; but he did not look thinner, nor were there any marks of sickness or decline in his countenance or manner. These last were much as usual—somewhat less hurried and more conversable; that is to say, allowing the person to whom he addressed himself more time to answer and talk than he used to do when discussing on common subjects, on public or grave ones."[310]
This illness aged him considerably, and though henceforth he lived very quietly and almost entirely secluded at Windsor, "his health, both as regards his bodily ailments, and the state of his mind, became daily more and more unsatisfactory."[310]Indeed, it is a moot point if he was ever for any length oftime quite well after this year, and even during the periods when he was free from a suspicion of his malady, the fear of its recurrence undoubtedly influenced his whole life. It was not until 1804, however, that he was again seriously ill, and then the attack was probably precipitated by his furious indignation at the publication of some of his letters by the Prince of Wales, though this fact was, of course, suppressed in the physician's report.[311]"The fact is I believe, as I have always done, that the regal function will never more be exercised by him," Creevey wrote on April 2: and on May 2 stated, "I feel certain he is devilish bad."[312]A regency was again in sight, but to the general surprise George recovered, and early in May was able to drive through the streets by the side of the Queen, but after this, as General Harcourt told Lord Malmesbury, he was "in looks, manners, conduct, and conversation, quite different from what he had been before his illness."[313]
"Mrs. Harcourt confirms all that Lady Uxbridge had told me; that the King was apparently quite well when speaking to his ministers, or those who kept him a little in awe; but that towards his family and dependents his language was incoherent andharsh; quite unlike his usual character. She said that Dr. Symonds did not possess in any degree the talents required to lead the mind from wandering to steadiness; that in the King's two former illnesses, this had been most ably managed by the Willises, who had this faculty in a wonderful degree, and were men of the world, who saw ministers, and knew what the King ought to do; that the not suffering them to be called in was an unpardonable proof of folly (not to say worse) in Addington; and that now it was impossible, since the King's aversion was rooted; that Pitt judged ill in leaving the sole disposal of the Household to the King; that this sort of power in his present weak (and, of course, suspicious) state of mind had been exercised by him most improperly; he had dismissed, and turned away, and made capricious changes everywhere, from the Lord Chamberlain to the groom and footman; he had turned away the Queen's favourite coachman; made footmen grooms, andvice versâ, and what was still worse, because more notorious, had removed Lords of the Bedchamber without a shadow of reason; that all this afflicted the royal family without measure; that the Queen was ill and cross; the Princesses low, depressed, and quite sinking under it; and that unless means could be found to place some very strong-minded and temperatepersons about the King, he would either commit some extravagance, or he would, by violent carelessness and exercise, injure his health, and bring on a deadly illness."[314]
Though the King was now suffering from an increasing deafness and a defective sight, he was better towards the end of 1805 than he had been for years. According to Lord Henley he was quite cheerful, and troubled only by his blindness. "He talked to me, indeed, in an affecting manner, of his situation, saying that he had tried this morning, but in vain, to read the docket of one of the despatches, but is convinced that he perceives an amendment, and that even with the left eye he can perceive the light.[315]Lady Henley says that he presented the muffins to the ladies last night in his old jocose and good-humoured manner.[316]
"Our Sovereign's sight is so much improved since last spring, that he can now clearly distinguish objects at an extent of twenty yards. The King,in consequence of this favourable change, has discontinued the use of the large flapped hat which he usually wore, and likewise the silk shade. His Majesty's mode of living is now not quite so abstemious. He now sleeps on the north side of the Castle, next to the Terrace, in a roomy apartment, not carpeted, on the ground floor. The room is neatly furnished, partly in a modern style, under the tasteful direction of the Princess Elizabeth. The King's private dining-room and the apartmentsen suite, appropriated to his Majesty's use, are all on the same side of the Castle.
"The Queen and the Princesses occupy the eastern wing. When the King rises, which is generally about half-past seven o'clock, he proceeds immediately to the Queen's saloon, where his Majesty is met by one of the Princesses; generally either Augusta, Sophia or Amelia; for each in turn attend their revered parent. From thence the sovereign and his daughter, attended by the lady-in-waiting, proceed to the Chapel in the Castle, wherein Divine service is performed by the Dean or Sub-Dean: the ceremony occupies about an hour. Thus the time passes until nine o'clock, when the King, instead of proceeding to his own apartment, and breakfasting alone, now takes that meal with the Queen and the five Princesses. The table is always set out in the Queen'snoble breakfasting-room, which has been recently decorated with very elegant modern hangings; and, since the late improvements by Mr. Wyatt, commands a most delightful and extensive prospect of the Little Park. The breakfast does not occupy half-an-hour. The King and Queen sit at the head of the table, and the Princesses according to seniority. Etiquette in every other respect is strictly adhered to. On entering the room, the usual forms are observed, agreeably to rank.
"After breakfast, the King generally rides out on horseback, attended by his equerries, three of the Princesses, namely, Augusta, Sophia, Amelia, are usually of the party. Instead of only walking his horse, his Majesty now proceeds at a good round trot. When the weather is unfavourable, the King retires to his favourite sitting-room, and sends for Generals Fitzroy or Manners to play at chess with him. His Majesty, who knows the game well, is highly pleased when he beats the former, that gentleman being an excellent player.
"The King dines regularly at two o'clock; the Queen and Princesses at four. His Majesty visits, or takes a glass of wine and water with them at five. After this period, public business is frequently transacted by the King in his own study, wherein he is attended by his private secretary,Colonel Taylor. The evening is, as usual, passed at cards in the Queen's drawing-room, where three tables are set out. To these parties many of the principal nobility, etc., residing in the neighbourhood are invited. When the Castle clock strikes ten, the visitors retire. The supper is set out, but that is merely a matter of form, and of which none of the family partake. These illustrious personages retire at eleven o'clock, to rest for the night. The journal of one day is the history of a whole year."[317]
Slowly but surely his sight gave way, and in the winter of 1806 he was nearly blind. Pitt noted "a great change of handwriting ... it has grown much larger, and the characters are very indistinct and ill-formed;"[318]and in 1810 Lady Jerningham wrote, "John Bedingfield has shewn to me the poor King's signature, and it would be impossible to read in itGeorge Rexif the paper did not announce it had that official signature."[319]George bore the affliction bravely. "I am quite resigned," he said, "for what have we in this world to do, but to suffer and perform the will of the Almighty."[320]Soonhe could ride only when the horse was led by a servant; while on foot he had to grope his way with a stick. In spite of his determination to bear his ills with fortitude he grew morbid, frequently asked to hear Handel's "Total Eclipse," and one day was overheard by the Queen to quote Milton's lines on his blindness:[321]