By George! How to Visit Scotland

George IV became king when he was already older, and set in his ways. The difference from his Regency? Not much.
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If His Majesties problems with his Cabinet were annoying, at least they were predictable. There was something equally predictable regarding His Majesty, although he would never admit it. He easily grew bored with his girlfriends. Yes, Lady Conyngham was on her way out and she was most distraught over the situation. This made little difference to the King. To grow bored with one lady meant, in his mind, that he was completely free to start shopping for another. Something he liked almost as much as remodeling and shopping for household knick-knacks.

Also, being the sort of fellow that he was, he saw nothing wrong with doing his window shopping wherever and whenever he pleased. Such as during the opening of parliament in 1822. Mme de Lieven was present in the House of Lords for this important ceremony and noted that His Majesty engaged in “indescribable oglings” which she went ahead and described anyway. He also had some wardrobe issues that she was happy to point out.

“When he came in, he seemed quite crushed. His heavy robes, his crown slipping down onto his nose, his great train, making his fat neck look fatter still- everything conspired to heighten the comic effect.” I get the impression that Mme de Lieven had a hard time taking His Majesty seriously as a king and didn’t take him seriously as all as an individual. She was hardly alone in this, but she did leave behind a wonderfully unflattering portrait of the man and the king.

Meanwhile, back in parliament… “He avoided the steps in mounting; when he was finally seated on the throne, he looked prostrate. A moment later, he caught sight of me-a smile. A row higher, his eyes fell on Lady Cowper- another smile. Higher still, Lady Morley-he beamed. He began letting his glance wander down the rows; but more often he looked up, his eyelids going hard at it…the signaling never stopped for a second.”

Alas for His Majesty, he was stuck with Lady Conyngham for the time being. She managed to extend her shelf life by the simple expedient of refusing to go away. Very effective with a fellow like His Majesty. The Conyngham situation was seen by some as the reason for His Majesties despondency through the spring of 1822. The poor fellow drifted about, sighing heavy sighs and cursing his fate. Well, “drifted” would not properly describe His Majesties movements. His gout was much worse and drifting anywhere was quite beyond him. But he was able to mope, and mope he did until Lord Liverpool convinced him to go to Scotland.

It wasn’t that the Scots were in dire need of visiting. Indeed, no English monarch since Charles II had considered them worth the bother. Lord Liverpool and Lord Castlereagh, however, thought that such a trip would be highly desirable. Mme de Lieven had been after His Majesty to visit Vienna for some time. Her motive was to play footsie with Prince Metternich. Liverpool and Castlereagh were deeply concerned that the Prince would talk His Majesty into throwing English money at Austrian problems, and this at a time when they had finally talked his majesty into trimming the dead wood from the Civil List.

It might have been cheaper to let him go to Vienna. If His Majesty was going to Scotland, he would have to dress right. And thank God he knew how to accessorize! “Opera pelisses, astrakhan Polish caps, silk bathing gowns, white beaver morning gowns, extra wide and very long; ( how many white beavers had to die to make that?) rich gold marmalouk sword belts, rich Muscovy sable muffs, superprinted blue striped long cloth shirts with full bosoms by the score. White long gloves by the dozen, prime doe pantaloons, ( Care to guess how many does gave up there pantaloons for His Majesty?) Superfine scarlet flannel underwaistcoats lined with fine calico, gloves, boots, stockings and black silk underdrawers (!!!!) were delivered to him in enormous quantities and at enormous expense.

His Majesty was very mindful that he was visiting Scotland, so he also ordered “A goatskin Highland purse (a sporran) with massive gold spring top, three black morocco belts, a large gold brooch pin with variegated Scotch gems, a powder horn richly mounted in fine gold, a gold head ornament for his bonnet consisting of the Royal Scots crown in miniature set with diamonds, pearls, rubies and emeralds, sixty-one yards of royal satin plaid; thirty-one yards of royal plaid velvet; seventeen and a half yards of royal plaid cashmere.” A cashmere kilt. The mind boggles. And that was only a partial list.

Soon, all was packed and His Majesty was off. His greeting in Leith, indeed, his entire trip, was a smashing success; not least because none of his ancestors bothered to trouble themselves with those itchy-wool clad rebels to the north. He made heart-felt speeches and praised his hosts most effusively. Edinburgh was decked out with garlands and streamers as His Majesty made his way through town in an open carriage. A far cry from London where, as Prince Regent, he dared not venture forth in the royal carriage for fear of being set upon by drunken London hooligans.

After a royal reception at Dalkeith Castle, the King drove out “with remarkable zest for a gouty man of sixty to drawing rooms and levees, to a command performance of Rob Roy, and then to the Caledonian Ball where he requested genuine Scottish reels danced by actual Scots lasses. He then “proceeded in state, in his field-marshal’s uniform, from Holyrood to Edinburgh Castle, as the cannon boomed in the fog. It was raining and windy as well as foggy, but he manfully stood beneath the Royal Standard on the castle’s highest battery smiling and waving his hat.”

What a sight! Or, at least, as much of a sight as the fog permitted. The only incident to blight his visit happened not in Scotland, but in London. On August 14, news reached His Majesty in Edinburgh that Lord Castlereagh had committed suicide.

— Mr. Al