THE COURT OF GEORGE III
Even before he ascended the throne George III had determined that his
Court should be very different from that of his grandfather, and when he
came into his kingdom he began at once a very drastic process of
purification. He was a religious man, somewhat narrow in his views, and
he held sacred things in great respect. At the coronation, after he had
been anointed and crowned, when the Archbishop of Canterbury came to
hand him down from the throne to receive the Sacrament, he told them he
would not go to the Lord's Supper and partake of that ordinance with the
crown on his head. The Archbishop of Canterbury did not know if it might
be removed, and, after consulting the Bishop of Rochester, told the King
neither could say if there was any order in the service for receiving
communion with or without the crown. "Then there ought to be," said the
monarch, and himself laid aside the crown.[178] Indeed he held very
strong views as to the Sacrament, and when in 1805 Lord
Chesterfield[179] prior to an Installation asked if the new Knights of
the Garter would be required to take it, "No, My Lord," he replied
severely, "the Holy Sacrament is not to be profaned by our Gothic
institutions. Even at my coronation I was very unwilling to take it, but
they told me it was indispensable. As it was, I took off the bauble from
my head before I approached the Altar."[180]
[178] "The coronation is over, 'tis even a more gorgeous sight than I
imagined," Horace Walpole told the Hon. Henry Seymour Conway. "I saw the
procession and the hall; but the return was in the dark. In the morning
they had forgot the sword of state, the chairs for the King and Queen,
and their canopies. They used the Lord Mayor's sword for the first, and
made the last in the hall; so they did not set forth till noon; and
then, by a childish compliment to the King, reserved the illumination of
the hall till his entry, by which means they arrived like a funeral,
nothing being discernible but the plumes of the Knights of the Bath,
which seemed the hearse." Indeed, the whole was a comedy of errors,
crowned by the historic apology of the Earl Marshal, Lord Effingham, in
reply to the King's complaints: "It is true, sir, there has been some
neglect, but I have taken care that the next coronation shall be
regulated in the exactest manner possible."
[179] Philip Stanhope, fifth Earl of Chesterfield (1755-1815).
[180] Wraxall: _Historical Memoirs of My Own Times_.
George had this deep feeling for religion from his childhood, and before
he was six years old had without direction learnt by heart several pages
of Doddridge's "Principles of the Christian Religion"; while, from the
time he grew up to the end of his life, he devoted one hour in the
early morning to reading the Scriptures and to meditation. He was well
acquainted with the works of Andrews, Sanderson and Sherlock, and asked
a fashionable preacher of the day if he, too, were acquainted with them.
"No, please your Majesty, my reading is all modern. The writers of whom
you speak are now obsolete, though I doubt not they might have been very
well at the time." The King looked at him, thinking of the man's own
sermons, and replied: "There were giants on earth in those days."[181]
One day George missed an under-gardener, and inquired as to the reason
of his absence. "Please your Majesty, he is of late so very troublesome
with his religion and he is always talking about it." "Is he dishonest?
Does he neglect his work?" "No, your Majesty, he is very honest. I have
nothing to say against him for that." "Then send for him again. Why
should he be turned off? Call me Defender of the Faith!" he thundered.
"_Defender of the Faith!_--and turn away a man for his religion!"
[181] _Genesis vi_, 4.
George III was not so bigoted but that he would visit a Quaker, and he
and his consort witnessed the Lord Mayor's Show in 1761 from the house
of Robert Barclay, one of the sect; and he could speak kindly of
Nonconformists. On one occasion at Windsor he saw a maid-servant in
tears and learnt that her distress was occasioned by the refusal of a
superior to allow her to attend a dissenting meeting, whereupon he sent
for the housekeeper and admonished her severely: "I will suffer no
persecution during my reign!" "The Methodists are a quiet good kind of
people and will disturb nobody; and if I can learn that any persons in
my employment disturb them, they shall be immediately dismissed," he
said when an attempt was made to interrupt the service at a Methodist
chapel; and when a Bible Society was formed at Windsor, and the name of
the Independent minister omitted, he desired that the name of "that good
man" should without delay be added. But though George III could tolerate
Nonconformists, on the other hand nothing could induce him to abate his
prejudice against the Roman Catholics, and when urged to make
concessions to them: "Tell me who took the coronation oath, did you or
I? Dundas, let me have no more of your Scotch sophistry. I took the
oath, and I must keep it."
After George's accession Dr. Thomas Wilson, Prebendary of Westminster,
thought, by flattering him in a sermon delivered in the Chapel Royal, to
ingratiate himself with the new King, only to be summoned to receive,
to his great surprise, a stern rebuke: those who preached before him,
the monarch warned Dr. Wilson, must remember "I go to church to hear God
praised and not myself." George had, indeed, a high ideal for those in
clerical orders, and this he enforced on all classes. "I could not help
giving you the notification of the grief and concern with which my
breast was affected at receiving an authentic information that routs
have made their way into your palace," he wrote to Archbishop
Cornwallis, when in 1772 he was informed by the Countess of Huntingdon
that the prelate's wife had given a ball. "At the same time I must
signify to you my sentiments on this subject, which hold these levities
and vain dissipations as utterly inexpedient, if not unlawful, to pass
in a residence for many centuries devoted to Divine studies, religious
retirement, and the extensive exercise of charity and benevolence--I
add, in a place where so many of your predecessors have led their lives
in such sanctity as has thrown lustre upon the pure religion they
professed and adorned. From the dissatisfaction with which you must
perceive I behold these improprieties, not to speak in harsher terms,
and still more pious principles, I trust you will suppress them
immediately; so that I may not have occasion to show any further marks
of displeasure, or to interpose in a different manner. May God take your
Grace into His Almighty protection."
"I wish that every poor child in my dominion shall be able to read his
Bible,"[182] he said rightly enough; but sometimes his fervour led him
into excesses, such as the striking out in his copy of the Prayer-Book
in the prayer for the Royal Family the words "our most Gracious King and
Governor," and substituting an "unworthy sinner." It was this and
similar examples of misdirected fervour that prompted Byron to write:
"All I saw further, in the last confusion,
Was, that King George slipped into Heaven for one;
And when the tumult dwindled to a calm,
I left him practising the hundredth psalm."[183]
[182] Southy: _Memoirs of George III_.
[183] Byron: _The Vision of Judgment_.
The King in later years would sometimes visit the book-shop of Charles
Knight at Windsor, and there was accustomed to sit on a high stool at
the counter to glance at the latest publications. One day he saw there
Bishop Watson's "Apology for the Bible," the title of which
volume excited him. "What!--what!--what!--Apologize for the
Bible!--what--what--what!" On another occasion he was startled to find
among the latest acquisitions a copy of Paine's "Age of Reason." He
sharply rebuked Knight, and quitted the shop, never again to enter it.
One of the first acts of the King was to issue a proclamation for the
"encouragement of piety and virtue, and for preventing and punishing of
vice, profaneness, and immorality," which was especially commended to
the notice of "judges, mayors, sheriffs, justices of the peace, and all
other our officers and ministers, both ecclesiastical and civil."
"GEORGE R.
"We most seriously and religiously considering that it is an
indispensable duty on us to be careful above all things to preserve and
advance the honour and service of Almighty God, and to discourage and
suppress all vice, profaneness, debauchery, and immorality, which are so
highly displeasing to God, so great a reproach to our religion and
government, and (by means of the frequent ill examples of the practices
thereof) have so fatal a tendency to the corruption of many of our
loving subjects, otherwise religiously and virtuously disposed, and
which (if not timely remedied) may justly draw down the Divine vengeance
on us and our kingdoms: we also humbly acknowledging that we cannot
expect the blessing and goodness of Almighty God (by Whom Kings reign
and on which we entirely rely) to make our reign happy and prosperous to
ourself and to our people, without a religious observance of God's holy
laws: to the intent thereof that religion, piety, and good manners may
(according to our most hearty desire) flourish and increase under our
administration and government, we have thought fit, by the advice of our
Privy Council, to issue this our royal proclamation, and do hereby
declare our royal purpose and resolution to discountenance and punish
all manner of vice, profaneness, and immorality, in all persons of
whatsoever degree or quality, within this our realm, and particularly in
such as are employed near our royal person; and that for the
encouragement of religion and morality, we will, upon all occasions,
distinguish persons of piety and virtue, by marks of our royal favour.
And we do expect and require that all persons of honour, or in place of
authority, will give good example of their own virtue and piety, and to
their utmost contribute to the discountenancing persons of dissolute and
debauched lives, that they, being reduced by that means to shame and
contempt for their loose and evil actions and behaviour, may be
therefore also enforced the sooner to reform their ill habits and
practices, and that the visible displeasure of good men towards them may
(as far as it is possible) supply what the laws (probably) cannot
altogether prevent. And we do hereby enjoin and prohibit all our loving
subjects, of what degree or quality soever, from playing on the Lord's
day at dice, cards, or any other game whatsoever; and we do hereby
require and command them, and every one of them, decently and reverently
to attend the worship of God on every Lord's-day, on pain of our highest
displeasure, and being proceeded against with the utmost rigour that may
be by law...."
Practical measures followed this proclamation, and first, as was to be
expected from so regular a church-goer, George announced that the
Sabbath Day must not be profaned even by so harmless an entertainment as
a reception, and abolished the Sunday Drawing-rooms. This was followed
by the discouragement of gambling at Court. When George discovered that
at the Twelfth Night celebrations at St. James's Palace hazard was
played for heavy stakes, he was horrified. First, he restricted the
number of tables, later limited the hours of play, and subsequently
refused to permit this amusement in his palaces. Then cards were
instituted, only in turn to be forbidden, and it was announced that no
game for money would be permitted among officials, under penalty of
forfeiting their situations.[184]
[184] "Their Majesties not being accustomed to play at hazard, ordered a
handsome gratuity to the Groom Porter: and orders were given that, for
the future, there be no card playing amongst the servants."--_Annual
Register_, Jan. 6, 1772.
It is an axiom that people cannot be made virtuous by proclamation, yet
it is conceivable that those persons who were not moved to laughter by
the exhortation to be good might appreciate it as an earnest of the
King's intention to exact a standard of conduct higher than had been
previously attained; and some acceptable result might have followed had
the Court been popular, for, if the courtiers obeyed their master's
behest, it is probable that those in lower ranks might follow the
exalted example. Things began well. "For the King himself, he seems all
good-nature, and wishing to satisfy everybody," Walpole wrote at the
beginning of the reign. "All his speeches are obliging--I saw him
yesterday, and was surprised to find that the _levee_ room had lost so
entirely the air of the lion's den. This sovereign does not stand in one
spot, with his eyes royally fixed on the ground, and dropping bits of
German news; he walked about and spoke to everybody; I saw him
afterwards on the throne, where he is graceful and genteel, sits with
dignity, and reads his answers well."
After the royal marriage, however, the good start was not followed up:
the Court became the dullest and dreariest place conceivable and was
soon attended only by those whose duties compelled them to attend. "The
Court, independent of politics, makes the strangest figure," Walpole
wrote to Lord Hertford not very long after the accession. "The
Drawing-rooms are abandoned. Lady Buckingham was the only woman there on
Sunday se'nnight. In short, one hears of nothing but dissatisfaction,
which, in the city, rises almost to treason." Lord Holland, too, noted
the prevalent feeling. "A young, civil, virtuous, good-natured King
might naturally be expected to have such a degree of popularity as
should for years defend the most exceptionable Favourite," he wrote in
September, 1762. "But, which I can't account for, his Majesty from the
very beginning was not popular. And now, because Lord Talbot[185] has
prevented him from being cheated to the shameful degree that has been
usual in his kitchen, they make prints treating his Majesty as they
would a notorious old miser."[186]
[185] William, second Baron Talbot, created Earl Talbot in 1762.
[186] Lord Holland's _Memoir_ in _The Life and Letters of Lady Sarah
Lennox_.
Lord Talbot was Lord Steward of the Household and his appointment was
not popular. "As neither gravity, rank, abilities, nor morals could be
adduced to counterbalance such exaltation, no wonder it caused very
unfavourable comments," was Walpole's opinion. "As the Court knew that
the measures it had in contemplation could only be carried by money,
every stratagem was invented to curtail the common expenses of the
palace. As these fell into the province of the Lord Steward, nothing was
heard of but cooks cashiered and kitchens shut up. Even the Maids of
Honour, who did not expect rigours from a great officer of Lord Talbot's
complexion, were reduced to complain of the abridgment of their
allowance for breakfast."[187] The drastic changes in Lord Talbot's
department brought down upon the nobleman a diatribe from Wilkes. "I
much admire many of his Lordship's new regulations, especially those for
the royal kitchen. I approve of the discharge of so many turnspits and
cooks, who were grown of little use. It was high time to put an end to
that too great indulgence in eating and drinking, which went by the name
of Old English Hospitality, when the House of Commons had granted a poor
niggardly Civil List of only L800,000."[188]
[187] _Memoirs of George III._
[188] _The North Briton_, No. 12.
[Illustration: _From a print dated 1762_
THE KITCHEN METAMORPHOZ'D]
The fact of the matter was the King was not possessed of those qualities
that make for popularity. At times he showed a certain graciousness, as
when at some watering-place where he went with the Queen, "We must walk
about for two or three days to please these good people," he said,
alluding to the crowds that assembled to see him, "and then _we may walk
about to please ourselves_." Indeed, on the afternoons of Sundays and
royal birthdays when the Court was at Windsor and the weather was fine,
the King and Queen with their family walked on the Terrace, which was
usually crowded with people of rank and fashion, and made so pretty a
picture that many came from London to see the sight. In the country
George was affable, especially with humble folk. At Weymouth he passed a
field where, although it was harvest time, only one woman was at work,
and, surprised by this neglect of work, he asked where were the other
labourers. The woman said they had gone to see the King, and added: "I
would not give a pin to see him. Besides, the fools will lose a day's
work by it, and that is more than I can afford to do. I have five
children to work for." "Well, then," said his Majesty, putting some
money in her hands, "you may tell your companions who are gone to see
the King, that the _King came to see you_."[189] Occasionally he would
pay a compliment, as on one occasion at a review at Winchester when
David Garrick, having dismounted and lost his horse, which, alarmed by
the noise, had broken away, exclaimed, "A horse! a horse! my kingdom
for a horse," the King turned round, "I thought I could not be mistaken,
Mr. Garrick," he said, "your delivery of Shakespeare can never pass
unnoticed."[190] More frequently, however, his remarks were tactless, as
in his conversation with a Yorkshireman at a _levee_, "I suppose you are
going back to Yorkshire, Mr. Stanhope? A very ugly county, Yorkshire!"
"Oh, sir!" said Stanhope, outraged in his tenderest feelings, "we always
consider Yorkshire a very picturesque county." "What, what, what!" cried
the King, who evidently had not sought the soft answer that turns away
anger. "A coal-pit a picturesque object! What, what, what! Yorkshire
coalpits, picturesque! Yorkshire a picturesque county!"[191]
[189] _Percy Anecdotes._
[190] _Georgiana._
[191] _Memoirs of A. M. W. Pickering._
Yet, though George neither as lad nor man possessed wit, at times he
gave proofs of an unexpected vein of humour. Thus, when he inquired who
was the owner of a newly erected palatial house, and was told it had
been built by his Majesty's card-maker, "Indeed," quoth he, "then this
man's cards have all turned up trumps." On another occasion when he had
purchased a horse, the dealer handed him a large piece of parchment with
the remark, "The animal's pedigree, Sire." "No, no," said the monarch,
handing it back. "Keep it, my good man, 'twill do as well for the next
horse you sell," which shows more knowledge of the world than is usually
accredited to the speaker. One day Colonel Manners, who was in high
favour at Court, sought an interview. "Let him in," the King replied,
"he is not only Manners, but good manners." When at the end of March,
1781, Lord Bateman waited on him to ask at what hour his Majesty would
have the stag-hounds turned out, "My Lord, I cannot exactly answer
that," he replied, having just bestowed the Mastership on the Marquis of
Carnarvon,[192] "but I can inform you that your Lordship was turned out
an hour ago." More amusing is the message he sent to a Jacobite who
would not take the oath of allegiance or acknowledge him as King of
England--"Carry my compliments to him--but--what--stop--no--he may
perhaps not receive my compliments as King of England. Give him the
Elector of Hanover's compliments, and tell him that he respects the
steadiness of his principles."
[192] Afterwards fifth Duke of Leeds.
When Lord Chief Baron Macdonald, a great snuff-taker, and Mr. Baron
Graham, an inveterate talker, were sitting in the Westminster court,
"The Court of Exchequer," remarked the King, "has a snuffbox at one end
and a chatterbox at the other."[193] To Lord Kenyon, a very
violent-tempered man, he said: "My Lord, I hear that since you have been
in the King's Bench, you have _lost your temper_. You know my great
regard for you, and I may therefore venture to tell you I am glad to
hear it."[194] Humorous, too, was his remark, _a propos_ of George
Selwyn's love of horrors. Selwyn was present at a _levee_, and withdrew
after George had spoken to him, although it was known the monarch was to
confer the honour of knighthood upon a country squire who had come to
Court to present an Address. "The King afterwards, in the closet,
expressed his astonishment to the Groom-in-Waiting," wrote Storer to
Lord Auckland, "that Mr. Selwyn should not wish to see the ceremony of
making a new knight, observing that it looked so like an _execution_
that he took it for granted Mr. Selwyn would have stayed to see
it."[195]
[193] Twiss: _Life of Eldon_.
[194] _Ibid._
[195] "In the distribution of honours the King never forgot his own
personal feelings, tho' he sometimes granted to political solicitation
what was by no means agreeable to himself. The late Dr. Elliott had
never been a favourite, and when Lord George Germaine requested his
Majesty to confer a baronetcy on that physician, the King manifested
much unwillingness, saying at length, 'But, if I do, he shall not be my
physician!' 'No, sir, he shall be your Majesty's baronet and my
physician.'"--Galt: _George III, his Court and Family_.
An amusing incident has also been related by Colonel Landmann when
George III was at Weymouth. "The King had taken off one of his military
white gloves, and in dropping the ends of his sash, he also at the same
time dropped the glove, upon which, not only General Garth, but several
others nearest to the King, scrambled for the glove on the ground, in
order to mark their zeal and attention to his Majesty; but the King,
desirous of recovering his fallen glove without having to thank any one
for it, or perhaps wishing to display his activity, also attempted to
seize it, in which he succeeded. On rising, the King's cane slipped from
his hold, and again the King was the successful candidate for the prize.
Now the sensation which the scrambling for the glove and then for the
stick had created amongst the vast concourse of spectators was increased
to an uncontrollable degree by the falling off of the King's hat, for
the capture of which an increased number of competitors presented
themselves, whose ambition to serve his Majesty greatly retarded its
restitution.
"Colonel Campbell, at length, had the good fortune to rescue this from
the hands of two members of the King's household, who were struggling
with each other for victory; whilst the King, holding out his hands for
his property, his face, in consequence of his stooping, as red as his
coat, exclaimed: 'Never mind about the honour of the thing, never mind,
never mind; give me my hat, give me my hat; there,' as the King received
his hat, 'thank you--thank you all alike--you all picked it up--yes,
yes,--all, all, all--you all picked it up.'
"The King, during the latter part of this contest, laughed most
heartily, in which the whole of the _cortege_ surrounding his Majesty
immediately joined, throwing off all restraint."[196]
[196] Percy Fitzgerald: _The Family of George III_.
One of the best stories concerning George III has since been told in
many forms of other persons. The King and his eldest son assisted a
countryman whose cart had stuck in a rut near Windsor, and, after
literally putting their shoulders to the wheel, they gave him
respectively half-a-guinea and a guinea. The driver was puzzled to
receive a larger coin from the Prince of Wales than from the monarch,
who heard of the man's perplexity, and, meeting him again some time
after, explained the matter: "Friend, I find you cannot account for my
son being more generous than I; but you should consider I have a large
family to provide for; he is but a single man, and has nobody to provide
for but himself."
Even better than this was his remark after his recovery in 1789, when
he heard that "Old Q." had gone over to the Opposition: "For once the
old jockey has run on the wrong side of the post." This occasional sense
of humour was rarely carried into the domain of affairs of state, but
one instance when humour and justice combined has been preserved.
Picking a pocket was not a capital felony, but in those days taking
anything privily from the person, of the value of one shilling, was
punishable with death. George abolished for all practical purposes this
absurd distinction, for when the warrant for the execution of a
pickpocket was brought for his signature, he refused to sign it,
declaring there was no difference between the offences. "I had always
understood," said he, "that the very essence of picking a pocket was,
that it should be done as much as possible without the knowledge of the
party."[197]
[197] _Percy Anecdotes._
The King had a great sense of regal dignity, and, when outraged, could
administer a rebuke with an air that rendered it crushing. When Lord
Kingsale, in the exercise of the privilege bestowed by King John to wear
his hat in the royal presence, remained covered, not for an instant, but
throughout a Court, in the presence of the King and Queen, "My Lord
Kingsale," said the monarch, "you are entitled to remain covered in the
presence of your sovereign, but not in the presence of a lady." Again,
when Addington quarrelled with Pitt, he went to surrender the key of the
Council box that he held as Lord President of the Council, but the King
declined angrily to receive it: "You must not give it to me, but to Lord
Hawkesbury"; and when the retiring minister begged to be excused on the
ground that Lord Hawkesbury and he were not on speaking terms, "that,"
said George, "was no concern of his."
George III took himself with the greatest seriousness, not only in
matters of importance, but also in the most trivial details of ceremony,
and when any change in etiquette was mooted, met the suggestion with the
stereotyped reply, "I will have no innovations in my time." He could not
bring himself ever to unbend even with ministers who were brought into
daily contact with him, and during the interview, however long it might
be, he would stand, and so prevent the minister from taking a seat.
Indeed, on one occasion when Pitt was suffering from gout, George kept
him standing for two hours, though well aware of the statesman's
infirmity, for two days later he said to him he hoped he had not
suffered by standing so long on Monday. And Pitt was overcome by this
gracious inquiry and told his friends, "His Majesty is the greatest
courtier in the country".[198]
[198] The humble manner and language that Lord Chatham always adopted in
the closet formed a fertile source of ridicule to his contemporaries.
Chase Price said, "that at the _levee_ he used to bow so low, you could
see the tip of his hooked nose between his legs."--Albemarle: _Memoirs
of Rockingham_.
It was not only ministers, however, who suffered in this way, for on one
occasion Mrs. Siddons, who was summoned to read a play before their
Majesties, was kept on her feet until she nearly fell from fatigue.
"Ready to drop to earth, she must have sunk,
But for a child that at the hardship shrunk--
A little _prince_, who marked her situation,
Thus, pitying, pour'd a tender exclamation:
'La! Mrs. Siddons is quite faint indeed,
How pale! I'm sure she cannot read:
She somewhat wants, her spirits to repair,
And would, I'm sure, be happy in a _chair_.'
What follow'd? Why, the r-y-l pair arose
Surly enough, one fairly may suppose!
And to a room adjoining made retreat,
To let her, for one moment, _steal_ a seat."[199]
[199] Peter Pindar: "_Ode upon Ode; or, A Peep at St. James's_."
When George III "put on the King," Beckford said, "he was the
personification of dignity," and "no man could stand before him";[200]
while the impression he made on Johnson is well known. "Sir, they may
talk of the King as they will, but he is the finest gentleman I have
ever seen," the doctor said to Barnard, the librarian; and supplemented
this to Langton: "Sir, his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as
we may suppose Louis the Fourteenth or Charles the Second."[201] This
regal dignity was, however, not always sustained in private. "The
oscillations of his body, the precipitations of his questions, none of
which, it was said, would wait for an answer, and the hurry of his
articulation"[202] were so many faults; and the famous "What? what?"
with which he concluded his sentences were irritating to a degree. "His
Majesty is multifarious in his questions," said Johnson, "but thank God
he answers them all himself." The King was no fool, however, and, as
Wraxall was at pains to point out, "his understanding, solid and sedate,
qualified him admirably for business," though it was neither of a
brilliant nor imposing description; but he had in him a great vein of
folly.
[200] _Conversations with Mr. Beckford._
[201] Boswell: _Life of Samuel Johnson_.
[202] Wraxall: _Historical Memoirs of My Own Times_.
Now, the dignity of a foolish man usually furnishes fit subject for
mirth, and the King's reputation for stupidity, which originated in his
early years, grew confirmed as time went on. No story, however seemingly
absurd, was rejected as untrue by his loyal subjects, who, perhaps,
found their greatest pleasure in this direction, in the well-known
anecdote of the King and the apple dumpling.
"Once upon a time, a monarch, tired with whooping,
Whipping and spurring,
Happy in worrying
A poor defenceless, harmless buck
(The horse and rider wet as muck),
From his high consequence and wisdom stooping,
Enter'd, through curiosity, a cot.
Where sat a poor old woman and her pot.
"The wrinkled, blear-ey'd, good, old granny,
In this same cot, illum'd by many a cranny,
Had finish'd apple dumplings for her pot:
In tempting row the naked dumplings lay,
When, lo! the monarch, in his usual way,
Like lightning spoke, 'What's this? what's this? what? what?'
"Then taking up a dumpling in his hand,
His eyes with admiration did expand--
And oft did Majesty the dumpling grapple:
''Tis monstrous, monstrous hard, indeed,' he cried:
'What makes it, pray, so hard?'--The dame reply'd,
Low curtseying, 'Please, your Majesty, the apple.'
"'Very astonishing, indeed! strange thing!'
(Turning the dumpling round, rejoin'd the King).
''Tis most extraordinary then, all this is,
It beats Piretti's conjuring all to pieces,
Strange I should never of a dumpling dream,
But, goody, tell me where, where, where's the seam?'
"'Sir, there's no seam,' quoth she, 'I never knew
That folks did apple dumplings _sew_'--
'No,' cry'd the staring monarch with a grin,
'How, how the devil got the apple in?'
"On which the dame the curious scheme revealed
By which the apple lay so sly concealed;
Which made the Solomon of Britain start:
Who to the Palace with full steam repaired,
And Queen and Princesses so beauteous scared,
All with the wonders of the Dumpling Art.
"There did he labour one whole week, to show
The wisdom of an Apple-Dumpling maker:
And, lo! so deep was Majesty in dough,
The Palace seemed the lodging of a Baker."[203]
[203] Peter Pindar: _Ode upon Ode; or, A Peep at St. James's_.
The King's folly was most clearly seen in his pronouncements upon
scientific questions. He had some liking for mechanics, and, it is said,
directed the construction of some interesting clocks; but certainly,
apart from mechanics, he was wofully ignorant, and as obstinate as he
was ignorant. "Well, I suppose all your chickens are dead," he said to
Beckford, alluding to the fact that his house was roofed with copper, an
experiment which the King had declared must infallibly kill everything
under the roof with verdigris.[204] George took an active part in the
question which arose about 1778, whether lightning conductors, which at
this time were ordered to be placed near all the powder magazines,
should have blunted or pointed ends. A great dispute was raging: Sir
John Pringle, President of the Royal Society, Dr. Franklin, and many men
of light and leading advocating points, a view controverted by Sir
Joseph Banks and some others. It was obviously a question for scientific
experts, but the King, as a wit put it, "being rather _partial_ to blunt
conductors," thought to put an end to the matter by giving his
peremptory decision, and announcing to the world the superiority of
nobs. Not content with carrying out his theory in the lightning
conductors at Buckingham House, he desired Sir John Pringle to publish
his belief as the opinion of the Royal Society! Of course to this
amazing demand, there could be but one answer, and Sir John regretted
"it was not in his power to reverse the order of nature."
[204] _Conversations with the late Mr. Beckford._
[Illustration: _Caricature by R. Newton_
LEARNING TO MAKE APPLE DUMPLINGS]
For art George had some liking, thus forming an agreeable contrast to
his two predecessors who detested "bainting and boetry," but
unfortunately his taste was quite uninformed and his critical faculties
negligible: he preferred Benjamin West to Reynolds, and Peter Pindar
"wept over the hard fate of Prince Octavius and Prince Augustus,
children of our Most Glorious Sovereign," whose portraits had, by royal
command, been painted by West.
"Ghost of Octavius! tell the bard,
And thou, Augustus, us'd so _hard_,
Why West hath murdered you, my tender lambs?
You bring to mind vile Richard's deed,
Who bid your royal cousins bleed,
For which the world the tyrant's mem'ry damns.
"West, I must own thou dost inherit
Some portion of the painting spirit;
But trust me--not extraordinary things--
_Some_ merit thou must surely own
By getting up so near the throne,
And gaining whispers from the best of Kings."[205]
[205] _Lyric Odes to Royal Academicians._
The King also delighted in Beattie, who was his and his consort's
favourite poet.
"... Sweet Poesy exalts her voice,
MacOssian sings, and Homer's halls rejoice,
One lazy tenor Beattie's bag-pipe keeps,
And tragic Home most lamentably weeps.
The Monarch's favourites, and the Muses' too!
'Whawr, Bratons, whawr's yore _Woolly Shockspare noo_!'"[206]
[206] _An Heroic Epistle to an Unfortunate Monarch._
"Peregrine the Elder," the author of the _Heroic Epistle_, assures his
readers that the question asked in the last line was asked by a
Scotchman at the first performance of Home's "Douglas."
However, to the best of his ability, George admired, and if when shown
some of Blake's drawings he cried, "What--what--what! Take them away,
take them away!" and if he thought Shakespeare "sad stuff," on the other
hand it is to his credit that he took much interest in the foundation of
the Royal Academy, and, though he did not desire that Reynolds should be
President, yet he sanctioned the appointment and knighted the painter.
In his respect for letters he conceived the idea to establish an Order
of Minerva for eminent writers and scientists. "The knights were to take
rank after the Knights of the Bath, and to sport a straw-coloured ribbon
and a star of sixteen points. But there was such a row among the
_literati_ as to the persons who should be appointed, that the plan was
given up, and Minerva and her star never came down amongst us."[207] He
accumulated a fine library that George IV, when he found he might not
sell it, gave to the British Museum; but he was probably entirely
ignorant of his acquisitions, though he had a fondness for the exterior
of books, and it is to his credit that he instructed his librarian
"never to bid a farthing against a scholar, or professor, or against any
person of moderate means, desiring a particular volume for his own
use."[208]
[207] Thackeray: _The Four Georges_.
George III created one order of Knighthood, that of St. Patrick in 1783,
in the hope to conciliate the Irish, who, however, treated it with
ridicule.
"George sends his stars and garters to our land,
We send him ropes to hang his pensioned band,
And, having made the crew disgorge their pelf,
He then may, if he pleases, hang himself."
[208] _Georgiana._
George liked to think himself a patron of art and artists, but it is
hinted he was not always inspired by the right motive, as when he found
a place for Gibbon as a Lord of Trade:
"King George in a fright,
Lest Gibbon should write
The Hist'ry of England's disgrace,
Thought no way so sure
His pen to secure
As to give the historian a place."
The royal patronage was certainly not exercised on the heroic scale.
Thus, Richard Paton was commanded to bring to Kew for their Majesties'
inspection naval pictures intended for St. Petersburg, and he obeyed the
summons, at a cost of fifty pounds for carriage, for which he was repaid
only with thanks; and it was the payment by the King of twenty-five
pounds for a picture, the market price of which was four times that
amount, painted by a friend of Dr. Wolcot, that brought down upon the
monarch the many vigorous onslaughts by that keen though coarse
satirist.[209]
[209] Papendiek: _Journals_.
On another occasion the Queen was persuaded to sit to young Thomas
Lawrence. "The poor young fellow was naturally inexperienced in the ways
of a Court, and the manner in which her Majesty treated him was not with
her usual kind consideration. She declined to give him a last sitting
for the ornaments, as it was too much trouble, but eventually was
prevailed upon to allow Mrs. Papendiek to act as her deputy. No money
was paid. The King told him to remove it to town, and have it engraved.
When that was done, the portrait was to be sent to Hanover, and then the
King proposed to pay. But Lawrence had no money, and could not risk the
engraving at his own expense."[210] The picture, therefore, remained in
his studio, and was sold with others after his death.
[210] _Ibid._
Even royalty itself was not able to induce the King to put aside his
dislike of spending money, for when the Empress of Russia asked for a
portrait of himself by Reynolds, the monarch, with "laudable royal
economy," as the satirist put it, went, not to Reynolds, but to an
inexpensive portrait-painter.
"I'm told, and I believe the story,
That a fam'd Queen of Northern brutes,
A gentlewoman of _prodigious_ glory,
Whom every sort of epithet _well suits_;
Whose husband _dear_, just happening to _provoke_ her,
Was shov'd to heaven upon a _red-hot poker_!
Sent to a _certain_ King, not King of _France_,
Desiring by Sir Joshua's hand his phiz,
What did the royal quiz?
Why, _damned genteelly_, sat to Mr. Dance."[211]
[211] Peter Pindar: _Lyric Odes to the Royal Academicians_.
Certainly on no occasion made public did George III ever show a royal
generosity. He saved his old master, Goupy, from a debtor's prison, and
appointed his fencing master Redman, who had fallen upon evil days, a
Poor Knight of Windsor; he released a man who had been imprisoned twelve
years in Dorchester Jail for a debt of L100 by paying that amount; and
one day, having taken shelter in a cottage where a joint was suspended
before the fire by a string, he left two guineas behind him to "buy a
jack."
"I never considered the King as munificent," Lord Carlisle remarked;
"when he gave the kettledrums costing L1,500 to the Blues, he was
deranged. Before his illness he stopped all the hunt to give an old man
something for opening a gate at Bray Wick: after a long search for his
purse he produced from it a penny and bestowed it on the man. He gave a
_fete_ in the Castle to all the Eton school boys. It consisted of a
very long concert of sacred music with nothing to eat or drink."[212]
[212] Lord Carlisle: _Reminiscences_.
[Illustration: _From an old print_
THE KING RELIEVING PRISONERS IN DORCHESTER GAOL]
It was not so much that George III was not good-natured, but that he
lacked the imagination that might have assisted him to a more worthy
generosity. He could never divest himself of a care for trifling sums of
money, and while he would authorize, nay encourage, the spending of
millions to further some matter upon which he had set his heart, he
would sit at home and work out the cost of his son's household to a
halfpenny,[213] and take great care that his agricultural hobby should
show a balance on the right side, which last consideration aroused again
and again the ire of Peter Pindar.
[213] "I take this opportunity of enclosing to you a list of the
servants that I find absolutely necessary to place about my third and
fourth sons; now I put two preceptors to attend them. I have very
carefully brought the expense as low as the nature of the thing would
permit.
L
Preceptors {Mr. de Bude 350
{Rev. Mr. Hooke 300
Page of the Back Stairs {Mannorlay,} each, salary L80} 200
{Meller, } for mourning L20}
Housekeeper 50
For keeping three housemaids, each L20 60
Porter 30
Watchman 25
Writing Master 100
_____
L1,115
_____
"The King to Lord North, August 22, 1772."
Another example of what Lord Brougham called the King's "very minute
economy" is given in the present writer's _The First Gentleman of
Europe_, vol. I, p. 105.
"The modern bard, quoth Tom, sublimely sings
Of sharp and prudent economic kings,
Who rams, and ewes, and lambs, and bullocks feed.
And pigs of every sort of breed:
"Of Kings who pride themselves on fruitful sows;
Who sell skim milk, and keep a guard so stout
To drive the geese, the thievish rascals, out,
That ev'ry morning us'd to suck the cows;
"Of Kings who cabbages and carrots plant
For such as wholesome vegetables want;
Who feed, too, poultry for the people's sake,
Then send it through the villages in carts,
To cheer (how wondrous kind!) the hungry hearts
Of such as _only pay_ for what they take."[214]
[214] _Ode upon Ode; or, A Peep at St. James's._
[Illustration: _From a drawing by Isaac Cruikshank, 1791_
SUMMER AMUSEMENTS AT FARMER GEORGE'S]
The reason for the unpopularity of the Court may be traced, not to the
King's lack of appreciation of what was best in art and letters, not
even to his stupidity, but to the lack of wisdom in the sovereigns who,
in their zeal for reform, carried their love of decorum to excess
(although the Queen's Puritanism was not so deep but that she could for
her own ends aid and abet such a frail, designing baggage as Lady
Jersey[215]), and to a parsimony unpardonable when exercised in
conjunction with a large Civil List.[216] Their miserly tendencies
were noted and commented upon with disgust at the Queen's first party,
given on November 26, 1762, a "gingerbread affair," which, including the
ladies-and-gentlemen-in-waiting, did not consist of more than a baker's
dozen of couples. On this occasion, though dancing began before seven
o'clock and went on uninterrupted till long after midnight, there was no
supper, an omission that furnished Lord Chesterfield with the
opportunity for a _bon-mot_ in a subsequent conversation as to possible
additions to the peerage on the King's next birthday. "I suppose," said
some one, "there will be no dukes made." "Oh, yes," said Lord
Chesterfield, "there is to be _one_. Lord Talbot is to be created Duke
Humphrey, and there is to be no table kept at Court but his!" Those who
attended the royal functions fully appreciated this reference to "dining
with Duke Humphrey"; and Peter Pindar voiced the public feeling in his
"Odes to Kien Long":
"The pocket is a very serious matter,
_Small beer_ allayeth thirst--nay, _simple water_.
The splendour of a chase, or feast, or ball,
Though strong, are passing momentary rays--
The lustre of a little hour; that's all--
While _guineas_ with _eternal_ splendour blaze."
[215] The "beautiful Miss Twysden" who married in 1770 George Bussy,
fourth Earl of Jersey, and was subsequently a mistress of the Prince of
Wales.
[216] It was said that the Queen's economy was due partly to the fact
that she came from a Court where money was scarce and expenditure
consequently strictly regulated, and partly because she felt it her
duty, as it was her pleasure, to give financial assistance to the
members of her family. The King helped her in this matter; the Duke of
Mecklenburg-Strelitz was given a pension on the Irish establishment, her
brother Charles was appointed Governor of Zell, and Prince George was
given a lucrative command in the Hanoverian army.
The Queen's pin-money was settled by Parliament at L40,000 a year, and,
in the event of her surviving her husband, she was to receive L100,000 a
year and the use of Richmond Old Park and Somerset House.
The lack of hospitality shown to those who attended at Court was
combined with an equal penury in connexion with those who were summoned
to amuse the royal circle, and of some disgraceful examples of this
unroyal miserliness Peter Pindar again is the historian.
"For, not long since, I heard a forward dame
Thus, in a tone of impudence, exclaim,
Good God! how kings and queens a song adore!
With what delight they order an _encore_!
When that same song, _encor'd_, for _nothing_ flows!
This Madam Mara to her sorrow knows!
To Windsor oft, and eke to Kew,
The r-y-l mandate Mara drew.
No cheering drop the dame was asked to sip--
No bread was offer'd to her quivering lip:
Though faint, she was not suffer'd to sit down--
Such was the _goodness_--grandeur of the crown.
Now tell me, will it ever be believ'd,
How much for song and chaise-hire she receiv'd?
How much pray, think ye? Fifty guineas. 'No.'
Most surely forty. 'No, no.' Thirty. 'Poh!
Pray, guess in reason, come again!'--
Alas! you jeer us!--twenty at the least;
No man could ever be so great a b--st
As not to give her twenty for her pain.--
'To keep you, then, no longer in suspense,
For Mara's chaise-hire and unrivall'd note,
Out of their _wonderful_ benevolence,
Their bounteous M----ies gave--not a groat.'"[217]
[217] _Ode upon Ode; or, A Peep at St. James's._
The pecuniary treatment accorded to Madame Mara was meted out also to
Mrs. Siddons, who, appointed preceptress in English reading to the
Princesses, but without salary,[218] was summoned frequently to read or
recite at Court, and came out of the palace "as rich as she went in."
[218] Mrs. Delany: _Autobiography and Correspondence_.
"Such are the stories twain! Why, grant the fact,
Are _princes_, pray, like _common folks_ to act?
Should Mara call it cruelty, and blame
Such r-y-l conduct, I'd cry, Fie upon her!
To Mrs. Siddons freely say the same,
Sufficient for _such people_ is the _honour_."[219]
[219] _Ode upon Ode; or, A Peep at St. James's._