By George! It Runs In the Family

Over the last several months we have watched King George IV grow from childhood to adult through Mr. Al’s eyes. What a sorry site.

An interesting aspect of the King’s insistance on a highly regimented home life was that he himself was bored silly by it He complained often of his boredom. He confided to close friends that he feared the boredom of his domestic arrangements were driving Lady Conyngham to distraction, if not out of his house altogether. In writing to a friend, at length, about the daily tedium of visiting His Majesty, the Duke of Wellington concluded his letter with this observation.
“We are to have a repetition of the same today, as I see that unfortunately it is a fine day… I am not astonished that Lady Conyngham is tired out of her life.”

A truly astonishing aspect of this situation was that, far from trying to alleviate the boredom, the King went in the opposite direction by deliberately limiting the number of visitors received and going far out of his way to limit not only surprises of any sort, but even restricting, as much as he could, the possibility of people catching even an accidental glimpse of him. He rarely went to the theater at this point; even though the few times that he did he was well received. He still went to Ascot, though once in his box he would, “sit in a darkened corner, a brown slouch hat pulled over one eye.”

Wrote Sir Walter Scott in his diary, “A sort of reserve, which creeps upon him daily and prevents his going to places of public resort, is a disadvantage, and prevents his being so generally popular as is earnestly to be desired.”

Part of the King’s attitude can be understood when one considers how difficult it was for the King to go anywhere. His Majesty had become, at this stage of his life, what modern doctors would term “morbidly obese.” He was huge. His gout made walking even short distances painful, if not impossible; and his vanity would not allow him to be seen receiving assistance of any sort.

Only his most trusted servants were allowed to observe and assist him as he moved to and fro. When he traveled from London to the country it was under cover of darkness and done in the utmost secrecy. When he held audiences in his Drawing-Rooms, those to be received were not allowed to gather in the anti-chamber to watch the King’s Entrance, as was traditional, they had to wait in another room until His Majesty had been wheeled in and seated.

By 1827 “His knees, legs and ankles swelled more formidably and terribly than ever.” He had to be carried up and down stairs and “in general, wheeled about everywhere.” High privacy fences were erected around Windsor; in some cases three deep, before His Majesty felt secure. He rarely traveled to Brighton, not only because getting around there was so hard, but also because Lady Coyngham had done little to endear herself to the locals, unlike Mrs Fitzherburt, and it made her uncomfortable to be there. When riding in Hyde Park, servants were sent ahead to shoo away any would-be royal gawkers. Where fences were not practical, dense shrubbery would be planted. Servants outside the charmed circle of his closest attendants could be, and were, fired if the King caught them “staring” at him

However much this affected his popularity with the Lesser Sorts was debatable. It definatly affected how those close to him felt. As we have seen, Mme de Liven would not have wasted a New York minute on him had he not been The King. Even with his exalted position, she still found him ridiculous as a fellow human and laughed at him behind his back. Many, including the Duke of Wellington,were convinced that only a steady stream of expensive baubles kept Lady Coyngham by his side. As for the rest, including the Duke, it was part of the job description.

In seeking for a cause for the Kings problems, various theories were bandied about. The Duke of Wellington thought there was nothing wrong with him that a few months in detox wouldn’t cure. “There was nothing the matter with him excepting what was caused by the effects of strong liquers taken too frequently and in to large quantities. He drinks spirits morning, noon and night, and he is obliged to take laudanum to calm the irritation which the use of spirits occasions.”

This abuse of laudanum was a serious concern to his personal physicians. Wither or not they recognized it’s addictive nature is unclear. The addictive nature of opium was widely known at this time, and laudanum was it’s most famous derivative. Doctor Knighton wanted him to stop using it altogether. Doctor Halford was afraid that if he stopped using it, the damage to his nervous system from his alcohol abuse would overwhelm him. Both agreed that his dosage had to be monitored. “That he will take it in larger does if it is not administered in smaller.”

The fact that he had such a tolerance to the drug says much about the infrequency with which he took it. And how much did he drink? He drank at least six bottles of wine every day with his lunch and dinner. He loved his brandy and was absolutely ga-ga about his cordials. Particularly French cherry, and syrupy maraschino. He would quaff these all day long, giving no thought to the fact that they were 100 proof.

Even by the standards of his day, His Majesty was a very heavy drinker. It did affect his judgment, which was slight to begin with, and I think it is safe to say that he was also a drug addict. His growing paranoia regarding being looked at reflects more than just vanity. The lengths he went to to prevent people from even glimpsing him shows that, as the end approached, His majesty was becoming a bit unhinged.

— Mr. Al