The year of 1829 marked both a high and low for his Majesty. While his health continued to deteriorate, his relations with his Ministers improved. At least after the contentious Catholic Relief Act was finally passed. But the improvement was quite gradual, and not all Ministers were treated equally. At Ascot he had “a whole party of Canningites in his house (box) and not one Minister. He gave a bad reception to all the friends of government who went to his stand, and said to Mr Peel that he should have as soon expected to see a pig in a church as him at a race! Mr Peel was invited to dine at the Lodge, but he pretended he had no clothes and refused to go.”
But he spoke highly of Wellington. “It would be difficult to find a man of such consummate integrity, possessing such straightforward, true political wisdom, or such unsullied principles that comprehend everything that is noble, everything that is great.” Wellington was aware of this change of attitude and grateful for it. He was always ready to praise the King for his good points. His charm and his willingness to see the good in most people. His intelligence and his ability to grasp the details of almost any problem, that is, if you could get him to pay attention in the first place.
There were the “off” days though. Days when the Duke felt that his Majesty was the “greatest vagabond that ever existed.” In a letter to a friend he made an observation that Mrs Fitzherbert had made many decades before, although in Mrs Fitzherberts case it was more of an accusation. To wit, “He is always acting a part to himself.”
In a less charitable vein, Mme de Lieven concluded that “he is not happy unless he is ill.” There was more truth to that than those close to his Majesty were willing to admit. At least publicly. Unpublicaly, his Majesty continued to abuse his Ministers with his deeply held notion that work, particularly anything connected with government that did not involve spending lots of money on himself, was to be avoided.
It reached the point where there was talk of “the necessity of appointing an officer to affix some kind of signet which should be equivalent to, and supersede, the royal signature.” While the Ministers grumbled, the King retreated to Windsor and his bedchamber. According to one historian, “The time the Ministers wasted at Windsor was incalculable.” Said Wellington in a letter to Knighton, “When one goes to Windsor, no person can answer for the hour of return.”
The Duke was being nice. One fellow was not in the least bit nice. Charles Grenville wrote, “His greatest delight is to make those who have business to transact with him, or to lay papers before him, wait for hours in the ante-room while he is lounging with Mount Charles or anybody, talking of horses or any trivial matter, he does it on purpose and likes it…A more contemptible, cowardly, selfish, unfeeling dog does not exist than the King…There never was such a man or behavior so atrocious.”
The fellow must have been a Whig.
His Majesty, however, would have put the affections of the stanchest Tory to the test. Wrote the above mentioned historian, “Although most Ministers did not share this harsh and aggravated judgment, few of them were not on occasion infuriated by the King’s conduct, incensed to discover, when they called at the castle to do business with him, that he was incapacitated from doing so by laudanum or cherry brandy. When he emerged from these overdoses he was in such “a state of excessive irritation” that it was considered advisable not to see him.”
It was while his Majesty was thus doubly indisposed that the Foreign Secretary, Lord Aberdeen, approached him with an interesting bit of business. The throne of Greece was on offer. Not from the Greeks themselves, apparently, but from France and Russia. And who did the French and Russians want on the throne? Why, the King’s own son-in-law, Prince Leopold. Wasn’t that a surprise! His Majesty prepared for this business meeting by ingesting one hundred drops of laudanum. And after the meeting he was “so much agitated that his barber thought he should have cut him twenty times.”
It would seem that Prince Leopold and the King were not on the best of terms. No doubt the Prince got an earful of “dad stories” from Princess Charlotte while they were courting. The fact that the Prince publicly supported Princess Caroline during her trial, and threw a party for her after her “acquittal”, did little to endear him to the throne. As if that were not enough, King Father-in-law attended a party at the Duke of Wellington’s where, “sitting in full blown dignity on a sopha between Lady Conyngham and Madam Lieven, his eyes had alighted upon the young and handsome features of his son-in-law.”
Egad! Flirting with the King’s girlfriend. The bounder!
As for the throne of Greece, the King “deeply regretted” the joint decision of France and Russia. He wrote to Wellington, “Without entering into detail of reasoning, the King considers Prince Leopold not qualified for this particular station.” Wellington knew full well the King’s reasons and had no intention of offending either the French or the Russians over one of the King’s pet peeves. He held his ground and the King eventually gave way.
This caused the utmost consternation to the Duke of Cumberland, who immediately fired of a broadside of letters to his brother, warning of Wellington’s perfidy and his Majesties loss of face among the other crowned heads of Europe.
He wrote to the King thusly. “ You are completely ruined for not only it must shake you in the opinion of all Europe, but your giving way on this occasion is neither more nor less than signing and sealing the Duke of Wellington not only as your Minister for the rest of your reign, but as Dictator in the country.”
Interestingly enough, the Duke of Cumberland was not the only one concerned that Wellington had designs on the throne. However, in my view anyway, when a man like the Duke of Wellington is counter-point to a weak and vacillating King like George IV, then such talk is almost inevitable.
The King gave into Wellington without bothering to consult his brother. And while it was highly unlikely that the King cared a fig for the Duke of Cumberland’s feelings, he was deeply attached to his own. And his own feelings had been abused in a most disgraceful manner when Wellington refused to make John Nash, the Kings’ favorite architect, a baronet.
Wrote Wellington to his Majesty; “it was a step which would be attended with the greatest inconvenience in view of the other numerous pressing applications and the publics attitude towards the enormous and continuing expenses of Buckingham Palace.”
The King was “outraged.” He demanded Nash be created a baronet “forthwith.” This was not just for Nash, this now concerned the King’s “own dignity.” Wellington’s reply was, in so many words, “Really? I’m sorry Your Majesty feels that way. The answer is still “no” and don’t ask again, I’m a busy man.”
His Majesty responded in a manner reflecting His Royal Dignity. He threw himself into bed and refused to come out.
— Mr. Al
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