For the last several weeks we have been looking at a straight progression of events and George IV grows into the crown. Now, with the crown firmly on his head, and his wife firmly out of the picture, what does he do? Let’s pause to take a look.
While His Majesties political life was less than satisfactory, he could take some measure of satisfaction in the fact that people who did not live in England liked him. As we have seen, a trip to Ireland was just what the doctor ordered to help him get over the loss of his wife. After returning to England and butting heads with his Cabinet for a time, he decided on another trip abroad; this time to Hanover.
It wasn’t all pleasure. Russia had set it’s cap to “liberating” the Balkans from Turkish domination. Something that would, not coincidentally, give her unhindered access to the Mediterranean. This was not in England’s interest. Having just finished with Napoleonic France, Western Europe was not keen on having to deal with an imperial Russia that stretched from the Arctic Circle to Constantinople. Russian designs on Afghanistan, and hence, India were also of the utmost importance to England.
For this trip His Majesty would have his Foreign Secretary, Lord Castlereagh with him to confer with Prince Metternich on the issues. This was good because His Majesties grasp of the issues was not particularly deep. Not because His Majesty didn’t care or lacked the intelligence to perceive the nuances, it’s just that he had a devil of a time staying on subject. He had a rather difficult time staying on any subject, actually.
His journey to Hanover went very well. He was received by joyous crowds and had a splendid time. Upon returning to England, he was so happy to be back in Lady Conyngham’s company that “he adopted the eccentric habit of taking snuff from her shoulder.”
According to Mme de Lieven, who was a guest at Brighton Pavilion soon after his return, “The King was in a more talkative mood than ever, mostly on the subject of high politics. I wish I could remember his ideas and the order in which he gave them. I know that three times I bit my lip so as not to laugh.” She wrote to Prince Metternich. “And that I ended by eating up all the orange peel I could find, so as to give my mouth something to hide it’s twitching if the danger grew to great. Everything you said to him was in his oration-I recognized a few phrases; but everything was plunged in such confusion that it was impossible to disentangle the real text of the speech. We had Poland, mystery-mongers, M.de la Harpe, the Don Cossacks, my wit, the Hanoverian sappers, who wore green aprons with gold fringes, Benjamin Constant, and Madame de Deken, the Hungarian infantry and the prophecies of the King in 1814, Jesus Christ and the Emperor Alexander who now sees things more clearly, for Prince Metternich says so, and finally the importance of remaining openly united. The end was the best part. The whole speech was addressed to me; but in a tone of voice which obliged everyone to listen in silence. We should be there still if Admiral Nagle had not begun to snore so loudly that the king lost patience and broke up the meeting.”
Apparently feeling that Prince Metternich had not grasped the full effect of His Majesties verbosity, Mme de Lieven then proceeded with a verbatim conversation between herself and the King.
His Majesty: My dear I’m no ordinary man; and-as for you- you’ve more intelligence in your little finger than all my subjects put together. I said “little finger” because I did not want to say “thumb” Now you, my dear, who are so intelligent, you must admit I am not a fool.
Myself: Indeed,Sir, I wish I could tell you what I think without descending into commonplace flattery. Obviously your Majesty is a very remarkable man.
His Majesty: That’s true. You have no conception of the ideas which sometimes go through my head. I have seen everything in a flash. I’m no mystery-monger (a mystic) but I am a philosopher. Nesselrode ( Russian Secretary for Foreign Affairs)is an honest fellow; but Capo d’Istria (Nesselrode’s colleague) is a rascal… Lieven, I’ve just been saying that Capo d’Istria is a rascal; but one of these days I shall be sending the Emperor a certain document- something really memorable- quite unprecedented- a document that will make tremendous effect. I composed it myself; but I shall not tell you what it is. No good making those charming eyes at me. You won’t discover. My dear, if I had a difficult negotiation on hand, I should entrust it to you in preference to anybody else. (To the Princess Augusta) Sister, I drink to your health. Long live wine I say, long live women. “Long live wine, long live men” you will retort. Gentlemen (addressing the whole room) the finest supporter of the throne the one man…(Here the King stops short, joins his hands, lifts his eyes to heaven and moves his lips as if he were reciting a prayer. He then turns to Princess Esterhazy.) My dear child, do you know the story of the tailor who was perpetually dropping his wife into the Seine? Very well, I’m the tailor. You don’t understand me, but Madame deLieven does- I can see that from the corner of her mouth.
Myself: I understand the moral of the story, Sir. (What story or what moral, I had no idea. But it didn’t matter; he had no more idea than I had.)
His Majesty: That’s right- the moral of the story (angerly) She takes the words out of my mouth! My dear as I have already told you, you’re more intelligent than anyone else at table… what’s that you’re saying, my dear?
Myself: Sir, I am comparing you to Pyrrhus.
His Majesty: Yes, indeed, he was a great man; but, personally I prefer Henry IV, whom I admire almost to the point of extravagance. He shouldn’t have kept Sully though. Sully was a rascal, wasn’t he?
Myself: I am sorry to disagree with you, Sir; but I should never have thought that of Sully.
His Majesty: My dear, I assure you that I am well up on the subject; I have read the memoirs of the period. M.de la Fayette, Mme de Sevigne, Mme de Baviere (At this juncture he nods at me and we get up from the table.)
I have included this in it’s entirety because it points up something that many people have said about His Majesty. He could, and did, keep dinner guests at Carlton House waiting for HOURS with prattle like this. And while it is tempting to say that His Majesty was quite unhinged, that is not the case at all. This it the logical result in someone who has never been told to shut up in his entire life. Who would have dared to do so aside from his parents, and he never listened to them anyway.
My God! Hours of stream of consciousness from a man who thought he knew everything. That’s a large price to pay for dinner.
– Mr. Al
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