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 loyalty that 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]
[290] Charles Knight: _Passages from a Working Life_.
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. "Not a child could we meet that had not a _bandeau_ round 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]
[291] _Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay._
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 walks a 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]
[292] Quoted in Fitzgerald: _The Good Queen Charlotte_.
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
the King 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 had not, 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 I
fell 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'."
[293] Southy: _Authentic Memoirs of George III_.
[294] _Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay._
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 great extent 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 to deprive 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]
[295] _Recollections and Reflections._
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 L30,000 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]
[296] Rose: _Diaries_.
[297] Twiss: _Life of Lord Eldon_.
Against such obstinacy and bigotry the gods contend in 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 of the 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]
[298] _Creevey Papers._
[299] May 9, 1798.
"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.