CHAPTER IV

THE NEW KING

The King is dead! Long live the King!

George II has given place to George III, and those who had prostrated

themselves before the former were now anxious to pay court to his

successor. Yet those who had at heart the welfare of their country

trembled at the thought that the throne, with all the influence

appertaining thereto, had passed to an ignorant, narrow-minded lad; and

reviewing the young king's training, and his mediocre gifts, it must be

admitted that the fear was not unreasonable.

The Princess Dowager's plan of isolating the Prince of Wales from

companions of his own age, while it had kept him from evil counsellors,

had resulted only too obviously in making him a very dull young man. His

mother admitted he was "shy and backward; not a wild dissipated boy, but

good-natured and cheerful, with a serious cast upon the whole;"[86] and

unfortunately the mode of life imposed upon him during his minority

tended to develop that serious cast at the expense of other qualities.

Bubb Dodington, a keen observer, noticed this trait so early as 1752,

and asked the Princess Dowager what she thought the real disposition of

the Prince to be. "She said that I knew him almost as well as she did;

that he was very honest, but she wished that he was a little more

forward, and less childish at his age: that she hoped his preceptors

would improve him. I begged to know what methods they took; what they

read to him, or made him read; and whether he showed any particular

inclination to any of the people about him. She said she did not well

know what they taught him; but, to speak freely, she was afraid not

much: that they were in the country and followed their diversions, and

not much else that she could discover: that we must hope it would be

better when we came to town. I said that I did not much regard books,

that what I the most wished was that his Royal Highness should begin to

learn the usages and knowledge of the world; be informed of the general

frame and nature of this government and constitution, and of the general

course and manner of business, without descending into minutias."[87]

[86] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.

[87] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.

The young Prince of Wales's amusements had been few. He was sometimes

permitted to play a round card game, called Comet, with his mother and

brothers and sisters; and the Princess Dowager showed more liberality of

mind than was usual with her by declaring that "she liked the Prince

should now and then amuse himself at small play, but that princes should

never play deep, both for the example and because it did not become them

to win great sums."[88] A greater delight of the Prince was to take part

in amateur theatricals, an indulgence sometimes granted as the practice

might accustom him to the public speaking that must later fall to his

lot. This was of great value to him for, while in conversation his

utterance was rapid, on public occasions he spoke so distinctly and with

such dignity that Quin, hearing his first Speech from the throne,

exclaimed delightedly: "Ay! 'twas I that taught the boy to speak!" But

George was not fond of delivering or listening to orations. "I am sure

that the rage for public speaking, and the extravagant length to which

some of our more popular orators carry their harangues in Parliament, is

very detrimental to the national business," he expressed his opinion

after he ascended the throne, "and I wish that it may not, in the end,

prove injurious to the public peace."[89]

[88] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.

[89] Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.

In spite of these occasional relaxations, the family circle at Leicester

House was far from bright, and Dodington has recorded how in November,

1753, he was summoned to wait upon the Princess Dowager, and how,

instead of the small party and a little music he expected, he found no

one but her Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, Prince Edward and

Princess Augusta, all in undress. They sat round the fire, and Dodington

and the Princess talked of familiar occurrences "with the ease and

unreservedness and unconstraint, as if one had dropped into a sister's

house that had a family, to pass the evening," but agreeable as it was

to Dodington, he could not refrain from wishing, "that the Princess

conversed familiarly with more people of a certain knowledge of the

world."[90] But even Dodington seldom saw the Prince of Wales, and,

though George II showed no disposition to keep his successor in the

background, the latter spent much of his time in, perhaps not entirely

voluntary, retirement at Kew, where his mother was making "a collection

of exotic plants, the precursor of the present Royal Botanical Gardens,

on a scale of liberal munificence, besides continuing to erect, under

the superintendence of Sir William Chambers, the various ornamental

gardens, originally planned by the deceased Prince."[91] Horticulture

had little charm for the Prince of Wales, who was, however, attracted by

agricultural science, and took an active interest in the farming of his

land, tastes which subsequently he endeavoured in vain to inculcate in

his sons, and secured for him the nickname that still clings to him.[92]

[90] Bubb Dodington: _Diary_.

[91] Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.

[92] According to John Galt, George III wrote several letters signed

Ralph Robinson and dated from Windsor, to Arthur Young for the latter's

_Annals of Agriculture_.

[Illustration: _From the Oxford Magazine_

THE BUTTON MAKER]

George found some pleasure in trifling mechanical occupations, and had a

watch made from his own designs by Arnold, of which a description is

extant. "It was rather less than a silver twopence, yet contained one

hundred and twenty different parts: the whole weighed between five and

six pennyweights." Later in life he amused himself in turning on the

lathe, and it was declared by the satirists that the royal ingenuity

eventually went so far as to construct a button. Certainly for a long

time he figured in caricature as "the royal button-maker"; and it was in

this capacity an anonymous versifier congratulated him upon the success

of his army in America.

"Then shall my lofty numbers tell

Who taught the royal babes to spell

And sovereign art pursue

To mend a watch, or set a clock,

New pattern shape for Hervey's frock,

Or buttons made at Kew."[93]

[93] _The New Foundling Hospital for Wit._

George III as Prince of Wales saw nothing of the outside world, and even

when in 1759 he was allowed to make an excursion beyond the limits

usually imposed upon him, it took the form of a private trip through

Scotland, when, preserving the strictest _incognito_, he paid visits to

Edinburgh, Glasgow, the Isle of Bute and a few other places, accompanied

only by Lord Bute and two servants.

It may here be remarked that no English king travelled less than George

III, who during the whole of his long life rarely visited any part of

his dominions.

"Our sons some slave of greatness may behold,

Cast in the genuine Asiatic mould,

Who of three realms shall condescend to know

No more than he can spy from Windsor's brow."[94]

[94] _Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers._

He never went to Hanover or Scotland or Ireland or Wales, and in England

his longest journeys were to Cheltenham, Weymouth, and Portsmouth,

which latter town he visited twice, but solely to make an official

inspection of a battleship.

"There shall he see, as other folks have seen,

That ships have anchors, and that seas are green;

Shall count the tackling trim, the streamers fine,

With Bradshaw prattle, and with Sandwich dine;

And then row back, amidst the cannon's roar,

As safe, as sage, as when he left the shore."[95]

[95] _Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers._

"To tell you the honest truth," Ernest, King of Hanover, said in 1845;

"the impression on my mind has ever been that it was a very unfortunate

circumstance for my father that he was kept as it were, aloof, not only

from his brothers, but almost from all young men of his own age; and

this I saw evident marks of almost daily."[96] Indeed, the unhappy

relations of George III with his sons must in great part be attributed

to the isolation of the King's early years: never having been permitted

to indulge in the pleasures of youth, he could in later years make no

allowance for such follies in others. It comes as a relief to find that

George III when Prince of Wales did commit one stupid, boyish prank:

when a tutor reproved him and told him he must stick closer to his work,

he put pitch on the tutor's chair, thus making the pedagogue stick

closer to his seat.

[96] "Secluded from the world, attached from his infancy to one set of

persons and one set of ideas, he can neither open his heart to new

connexions, nor his mind to better information. A character of this sort

is the soil fittest to produce that obstinate bigotry in politics and

religion which begins with a meritorious sacrifice of the understanding,

and finally conducts the monarch and the martyr to the block."--Junius,

May 28, 1770.

Some lads who, from one cause or another, see little society, derive

knowledge of the world from books, but George was not one of these. He

did not learn easily, and he had not been helped by an extensive or

thorough education. His knowledge of Latin or Greek was negligible, and

Huish's statement that at an early age the Prince "correctly understood

the history of modern times and the just relations of England with the

other states" makes too great a strain upon our credulity. It is true

that in support of his view Huish prints a list of titles of plays that

the Prince is said to have selected to show the condition of various

states and persons; but though, as a matter of fact this has little to

recommend it as an intellectual exercise, it is unlikely the youth

performed even this task without assistance.[97] It may be conceded,

however, that he read with more or less understanding the history of

England, France and Germany; and that he could speak the language of

these countries with fluency. He wrote English with little show of

acquaintance with grammar and never could spell correctly, while his

general knowledge was lamentably slight, and in spite of fulsome

biographers, books never had any attraction for him. "He never delighted

in study, nor ever passed much of his time in sedentary occupations,

calculated to improve his mind, after his accession to the crown,"

Wraxall admits frankly. "A newspaper which he commonly took up after

dinner, and over which, however interesting its contents might be, he

usually fell asleep in less than half-an-hour, constituted the ordinary

extent of his application."[98] He was in truth a dull lad, and

Thackeray was probably right in his belief that "the cleverest tutors in

the world could have done little probably to expand that small

intellect, though they might have improved his taste and taught his

perceptions some generosity."[99]

[97] Russia, _The Maiden Queen_; Germany, _The Rivals_; Genoa, _All's

Well that Ends Well_; Spain, _The Ambitious Stepmother_; Prussia, _The

Inconstant, or, The Way to Win Him_; France, _The Busy-Body, Rather the

Way of the World_; Sweden, _She Would if She Could_; Denmark, _As You

Like It_; The Dutch, _The Medley; or, Nature Will Prevail_; Flanders,

_How Happy Could She Be With Either_; King of Sardinia, _The Spartan

Hero_; Stanislaus, _An Old Man Taught Wisdom_; Don Philip, _Much Ado

About Nothing_; The Young Pretender, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.

[98] _Recollections and Reflections._

[99] _The Four Georges._

Yet those who expected the worst from the new King were pleasurably

disappointed, for, though he never became a great monarch, he developed

unsuspected good qualities. In earlier days his indolence had brought

upon him a severe reproof from George Scott, who, when his Royal

Highness excused his own want of application on the score of idleness,

said, cruelly perhaps, but certainly with truth: "Sir, _yours_ is not

idleness; your brother Edward is _idle_, but you must not call being

asleep all day being idle." On his accession to the throne, George III

became suddenly industrious, at once endeavoured to understand public

business, and showed himself willing to learn. Indeed, he had always

been desirous to improve his mind, and it has been told how when he and

Prince Edward once went by water to Woolwich he did not make a _gala_

day of it, as his brother did, and as most other boys would have, "but

paid a marked attention to everything useful and curious, taking a view

of the several works in the dockyard, seeing the manner of forging an

anchor, or making sails, etc."[100]

[100] Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.

More remarkable than his devotion to business was the aptitude the young

man, ignorant of affairs, soon showed for King-craft, and all were

astonished to find that, after he had become accustomed to his position,

he not only made efforts to induce ministers to carry out his views, but

actually found means usually to compel them to do so. Unfortunately he

started in life with the rooted idea that those who agreed with him were

right, and those who differed wrong. "He will seldom do wrong, except

when he mistakes wrong for right," prophesied Lord Waldegrave; "but as

often as this shall happen, it will be difficult to undeceive him,

because he has strong prejudices."[101] How true this was will presently

appear. It was a misfortune, too, that what intelligence he possessed,

not sufficient to enable him to see two sides to a question, made him

suspicious of all who rose above mediocrity. Fox, father and son, he

hated, and he declared once that Sheridan ought to be hanged, while he

could rarely find a good word for Chatham, Burke, and the other men of

commanding talent with whom perforce he was brought into contact. It was

his liking for nonentities that Peter Pindar[102] pilloried, in words

attributed to Sir Joseph Banks:[103]

"To circles of pure ignorance conduct me;

I hate the company that can _instruct_ me;

I wish to imitate my King, so _nice_,

Great prince, who ne'er was known to take advice!

Who keeps no company (delightful plan!)

That dares be wiser than himself, good man!"[104]

[101] Waldegrave: _Memoirs_.

[102] John Wolcot, satirist and poet (1738-1819), wrote under the

pseudonym of "Peter Pindar."

[103] Sir Joseph Banks (1743-1820), president of the Royal Society,

1778-1820.

[104] _Peter's Prophecy._

Whatever forebodings may have been entertained by those behind the

scenes, George III was at his succession very popular, and whenever he

showed himself in public was heartily greeted by his loyal subjects.

"The new reign dates with great propriety and decency, the civilest

letter to Princess Emily; the greatest kindness to the Duke; the utmost

respect to the dead body," Walpole wrote. "No changes to be made but

those absolutely necessary, as the household, etc.--and, what some will

think the most unnecessary, in the representative of power. There is

great dignity and grace in the King's manner. I don't say this like my

dear Madame de Sevigne, because he was civil to _me_, but the part is

well acted. The young King has all the appearance of being amiable.

There is great grace to temper much dignity and good nature which

breaks out on all occasions." Nicholls expressed his opinion that the

monarch was "of a good person, sober, temperate, of domestic habits,

addicted to no vice, swayed by no passion";[105] while Mary Lepel, Lady

Hervey, was outspoken in his favour. "Every one, I think, seems to be

pleased with the whole behaviour of our young King; and indeed so much

unaffected good nature and propriety appears in all he does or says,

that it cannot but endear him to all; but whether anything can long

endear a King or an angel in this strange factious country, I can't

tell. I have the best opinion imaginable of him, not from anything he

does or says just now, but because I have a moral certainty that he was

in his nursery the honestest, true, good-natured child that ever lived,

and you know my old maxim that qualities never change; what the child

was, the man most certainly is, in spite of temporary appearances."[106]

Whitehead, of course, salvoed his joy in rhyme.

"And who is he, of regal mien,

Reclined on Albion's golden fleece,

Whose polished brow, and eye serene,

Proclaim him elder-born of peace?

Another George! ye winds convey

Th' auspicious name from pole to pole:

Thames, catch the sound and tell the subject sea

Beneath whose sway its waters roll,

The heavy monarch of the deep

Who soothe's its murmurs with a father's care,

Doth now eternal Sabbath keep,

And leaves his trident to his blooming heir,

O, if the Muse, aright divine,

Fair Peace shall bless his opening reign,

And through the splendid progress shine

With every art to grace her train,

The wreaths, so late by glory won,

Shall weave their foliage round his throne,

'Till Kings abashed shall tremble to be foes,

And Albion's dreaded strength secure the world's repose."

[105] Nicholls: _Recollections and Reflections_.

[106] _Letters of Mary Lepel, Lady Hervey._

Yet there were other observers who could see the reverse side of the

shield. Old Samuel Johnson thought the pleasure manifested at the

accession of George III, "of whom we are so much inclined to hope great

things that most of them begin already to believe them," was due in

great part to the fact that "we were so weary of our old King." He was,

moreover, not very enthusiastic at the prospect. "The young man is

hitherto blameless, but it would be unreasonable to expect much from the

immaturity of juvenile years and the ignorance of princely education. He

has long been in the hands of the Scots, and has already favoured them

more than the English will contentedly endure. But, perhaps, he

scarcely knows whom he has distinguished, or whom he has disgusted."

Lord Chesterfield declared that the King, "like a new Sultan, was lugged

out of the seraglio by the Princess and Lord Bute, and placed upon the

throne";[107] Mr. Attorney General Pratt,[108] within four months of the

accession, could "see already that this will be a weak and inglorious

reign"; while Charles Townshend, asked what was the young King's

character, summed it up, "He is very obstinate."[109]

[107] _Letters of Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield._

[108] Sir Charles Pratt, first Earl Camden (1714-1794).

[109] Nicholls: _Recollections and Reflections_.

Farmer George, Volume 1 · 第 4 / 12 章