Whitehall, Nov. 20th, 1788.
MY DEAR BROTHER,
I went down yesterday to Windsor, as a matter of form, to inquire
after the King's health. Having nothing very material to write to
you in the morning, I thought it best to take the chance of being
back early enough to write before the post went out. This, however,
I found impossible, on account of the different people whom I met at
Windsor, and with whom I was naturally anxious to converse.
The account, as far as relates to the King's actual situation for
these two or three last days, is much less favourable than it has
been. The disorder of his intellects has continued almost, if not
entirely, without intermission for the whole of that time. He talks
incessantly for many hours together, and without any appearance of
sense or reason, sometimes knowing the persons who are about him, at
other times mistaking them, or fancying himself employed in
different occupations, such as taking notes on books, or giving
different orders. He has appeared several times to have that sort of
consciousness of his situation which lunatics are observed to
possess, and to use the same sort of methods for concealing it. All
this constitutes the gloomy side of the picture; and Warren is so
much impressed with this, that he told Pitt there was now every
reason to believe that the disorder was no other than direct lunacy.
On the other hand, I understand that he, as well as the other
physicians, are now agreed as to the cause of the disorder. You may
remember that, at the beginning of this unhappy situation, I
mentioned to you that an idea had been entertained of its proceeding
from some local cause, such as water on the brain, or some change in
the texture of the brain itself, by induration or ossification.
Warren has decidedly said, that he is satisfied this is entirely out
of the question; this he told Pitt in express terms. The cause to
which they all agree to ascribe it, is the force of a humour which
was beginning to show itself in the legs, when the King's imprudence
drove it from thence into the bowels; and the medicines which they
were then obliged to use for the preservation of his life, have
repelled it upon the brain. The consequence of this opinion is so
plain, that there certainly requires no professional skill to know
that his recovery must depend upon this single circumstance, whether
there is, or is not strength enough in his constitution to throw off
this humour by any other channel. The physicians are now
endeavouring, by warm baths, and by great warmth of covering, to
bring it down again into the legs, which nature had originally
pointed out as the best mode of discharge.
I was mentioning these circumstances yesterday to a person who lives
in intimacy with John Hunter, the anatomist. He told me that they
had been all stated to him three days ago, by Hunter, who had
collected them from the different inquiries he had made. Hunter
added, that we must still expect for some days, and perhaps even
weeks, to hear of no decisive alteration, but possibly of some
occasional variation from day to day; that at the end of this it
would probably come to some sort of crisis, by which it would appear
whether there was strength enough in the constitution to prevail
over the disease; that all he had heard of the manner of the King's
life, did unquestionably make him an unfavourable subject for such a
struggle, but that if it was the case of any common man, he should
have no hesitation in pronouncing even now that it would be very bad
luck indeed if he did not recover, and that the chances were nine to
one in his favour. You will easily suppose that this was said under
the seal of confidence, and that a professional man would not choose
to have his name quoted in a case of so much importance in which he
is not employed, and in which his opinions may be either founded at
present on false information, or may be defeated by the mode of
treatment adopted by those who are called in. I have, therefore,
mentioned this only to you, though possibly you may hear it from
other channels. On such authority, one certainly may be allowed to
indulge some degree of hope. I am, however, far from letting this
expectation take possession of my mind, but, on the contrary, have
prepared myself for the worst, and can with truth say that I have
made up my mind to meet it with cheerfulness, and to accommodate
myself as a reasonable man ought to do to my situation.
You will particularly see that this consideration had no effect on
my judgment, and that I feel as you do. On the question of a
coalition, no offers have as yet been made. The language of
Opposition inclines one to think that their idea is _to that_, but
the conduct of the Prince of Wales marks a desire of avoiding Pitt.
I believe he has had no communication with the Duke of Portland, or
with any of them, except Sheridan and Lord Loughborough; the latter
is supposed to be much in his confidence. Pitt has opened his plan
of Regency to Thurlow and Lord Weymouth, and they both approved it;
he is to lay it before the Prince of Wales in a few days, and will
then make it public.
Whatever is done, I have no conception that it can be brought to a
point so as to enable you to form any decisive judgment with respect
to your situation so early as the beginning of next month. We are
now at the 19th. Pitt means to-day to move an adjournment to this
day sevennight, and a call of the House for this day fortnight. It
is doubtful whether the business will even then be brought on, and
the intervening adjournment is made with the view of enabling Pitt
to put off the call to a more distant day if the King's situation
should be thought to render that a proper step.
Bernard is now out of town, but I understood from him that your
house in Pall Mall was let to the Duke of Gordon for another year,
to commence from Christmas.
I am just returned from the House, where Pitt moved the adjournment
for the whole fortnight (in consequence of an opinion of the
Chancellor's), and a call at the end of that term. Not a word was
said by any other person, and he himself barely stated that the
continuance of the King's illness had prevented the prorogation, and
that the same circumstance made it desirable to have the public
attendance when the House met again.
The public account of to-day is that he has passed a less disturbed
night, but that the fever continues.
Ever most affectionately yours,
W. W. G.