By George! They’re on His “Manbits”

The year 1829 closed with little of His Majesty’s situation changed. This was as he preferred it. He still dodged official business. Indeed, he would go so far as to ask parliament to appoint someone to act and sign papers in his name. Parliament told him that the only way they could legally do so would be with reports from His Majesty’s doctors that he was beyond help. Such reports would have to made public. You know, like the situation with dad. His Majesty “withdrew his proposal instantly.”

He still kept Lady Conyngham as close to hand as she would allow. Which at that point was not very. I should probably give her a mention. Rather ungentlemanly of me to ignore her for so long. In November, 1829 she had fallen ill with “a bad bilious fever.” The King was much concerned and visited her room every evening for conversation and hand holding.

It was noted by many that his concern for her was in marked contrast to her concern for him. Although, in fairness it should be noted that keeping up with the Kings illnesses, and expressing appropriate sympathy, would have been beyond most people. Still, those who were close to both found her behavior, if understandable, in bad form.

Said Mrs Arbuthnot, the King “was full of attention and aux petits soins with her and that she shrugged her shoulders at him and seemed quite to loath him; so much so that everybody observed it.” She had for years been threating to “Throw the whole thing over.” Life with His Majesty “bored her to death.” And yet’ she stayed.

Mrs Arbuthnot commented “She really does make him a most ungrateful return. She detests him, shows it plainly, yet continues to accept all his presents which are of enormous value.” But she went on complaining and made threats to “go abroad.” It was after one such outburst, when she told his Majesty that she really, really, couldn’t take it any longer that Lord Lauderdale was sent around to talk with her.

His Lordship, apparently of his own initiative, decided to remind her of a few inconvenient truths. She signed up to be the Kings girlfriend. Yes, he pursued her, but she did not have to say yes. “However blamable it was in her to get into her present situation, now that she was in it, it was her bounden duty to submit and go through with it.” You asked for it, you got it. Play nice!

The Duke of Wellington told her the same thing when she was silly enough to complain to him about her situation. The value of her jewelry collection was lost on no one. As it was, she didn’t have to put up with the boredom for very much longer.

As winter gave way to spring in 1830 his Majesty’s condition began going downhill in earnest. And, as was the case in that day and age, his doctors were of limited value. It was not that they were wrong, not always, at least, but they could not agree on precisely what was wrong and the best way to treat it.

His Majesty’s response to this was not to believe any of them. While this may have been a logical response, particularly from our modern perspective, it did the King no good because it basically kept him living the lifestyle he was accustomed to. His food, alcohol and laudanum intake remained prodigal.

Noted Mrs Arbuthnot; his mode of living was “really beyond belief.” She went on to describe what was a typical evening. “One night he drank two glasses of hot ale and toast (I presume he ate the toast), three glasses of claret, some strawberries!! (exclamation points hers) And a glass of brandy. Last night they gave him some physic and, after it, he drank three glasses of port wine and a glass of brandy. No wonder he is likely to die. But they say he will have all these things and nobody can prevent him.”

Aside from the usual gout, he now had very serious respiratory problems. Probably asthma “Attacks of breathlessness.” He called them. One such attack was thus described. “At first there would be a gurgling in his throat, then not only his face but even the ends of his fingers would turn black as he tried to get his breath.”

Needless to say, he was having trouble sleeping. He would attempt to alleviate this with “large doses of laudanum and massive quantities of ether.” On April 14, he had a particularly bad attack while inspecting his hounds. For three weeks the doctors issued guarded, but hopeful bulletins “His Majesty has passed two good nights and continues better…” went a typical public report. For the Duke of Wellington however, reports of a different nature were made.

The Kings breathing was becoming very difficult, he would cling to Dr Halfords hand during these attacks until the good doctor “was completely knocked up.” One cause of these attacks was, not surprisingly, work. “The King began to dread the appearance of documents, since the effort of signing them brought on spasms of extreme agitation and breathlessness.”

One of his other problems, an obstruction of his bladder, which was diagnosed as “gout of the bladder” Very original, that; was dealt with by “the application of leeches around the Kings pelvis.” I would implore my readers not to think about that for too long.

He dealt with suffering stoically. Much more so than he would have when he was younger. Such stoicism was remarked upon and admired, even the Duke of Wellington was impressed. While he played for sympathy with Lady Conyngham, giving her the grisly details of his aliments and treatments, “Do you want to see the parasites on my manbits?” he remained silent on the subject with all others. Alas, “although they admired his courage, most of his Ministers regarded his approaching death with little sympathy and less regret.” Already, the vultures were circling.

— Mr. Al