THE TRAGEDY OF GEORGE 111.

Otago Witness, Issue 2801, 20 November 1907, Page 79

THE TRAGEDY OF GEORGE 111.

Under the title " Cameos from tfye £l§ssics '" T. P.'s Weekly gjves the follow-

ing moving passage concerning the last days of George 111 from Thackeray's " Four Georges" :—: —

! Of all the figures in- that large family I group which surrounds George and his , Queen-, the prettiest, I ! think, is tne , father's - darling, the Princess Amelia, I pathetic for her beauty, her sweetness, her | early death, antt for the extreme passion - I ate tenderness with which her father loved I her. This was his favourite amongst aii 'the children : of his sons, he loved the : Duke of York best. Barney tells- a sad ' story of the poor old man at Weymouth. and hew eager he was to have this darling | son with him. The King's house was not I big enough to hold the Prince ; and his father had a portable house erected close ' to his own, and at huge pains, so that his dear Frederick should be near hinK He clung on bis arm. all the time of his visit ; talked to no oae else; had talked of no one else for some time before. Ihe : Prince, so long expected, stayed but a single night. He had business in London the next day, he said. . The dulness of the old King's Court stupefied York and | the other big sons of George 111. They scared equerries and ladies,, frightened ! the modest little circle with their coarse i spirits and loud talk. Of little-comfort, indeed, were the King's sons to the King. ; But the pretty Amelia was his darling ; and the little maiden, prattling and snnlI ing in the fond arms of that old father, is a sweet image to look on. There is a family picture in ' ' Burney " which a> man must be very hard-hearted not to like. She describes an after-dinner walk of the Royal Family at Windsor : It was really a mighty pretty procession, she says. The little Princess, just turned of three years old, in a robecoat covered with fine mußlin, a dressed close cap, white gloves, and fan, walked on alone and first, highly delighted with the parade, and turning from side to side to see everybody as she passed; for all the terracers stand up against the walls to make a clear passage for the Royal Family tfie moment they come in sight. Then followed the King and Queen, no less delighted with the joy of their little darling. The Princess Royal, leaning on Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave ; the Princess Augusta, holding by the Duchess of Ancaster ; the Princess Elizabeth, led by Lady Charlotte Bertie, followed. " Office here takes place of rank," says Burney, to explain how it was that Lady Elizabeth Waldegrave, as lady of the bedchamber, walked before a duchess. " General Bade, and the Duke of Montague, and Major Price as ecpierry, brought up the rear of the procession." One sees it; the band playing its old music, the sun shining on the happy, loyal 1 crowd and lighting the ancient battlements, the rich elms, and purple land- | scape, and bright greensward ; the Royal I Standard drooping from the great tower 1 yonder, as old George passes, Followed by ■ his race, preceded by the charming infant, i who caresses the crowd with her innocent i smiles. On sight of Mrs'Delaney, the King instantly stopped to speak to her ; the Queen, of course, and the little Princess, and all the rest, stood still. They talked a good while with the sweet old lady, during which time the King' once or twice addressed himself to me. I caught the Queen's eye, and saw in it a little surprise, but by no means any displeasure, to see me of the party. The little Princess went up to Mrs Delaney, of whom she- is very fond, and behaved like a little angel to her. She then, with a look of inquiry and recollection, came behind Mrs Dekn<ey to look at me. "I am afraid," said I, in a whisper, and stooping down, "your Boyal Highness does not remember me?" Her answer was an arch little ; smile, and a nearer approach with her lips pouted out to kiss me. The Princess wrote verses herself, and there are some very pretty plaintive lines attributed to her, which are more touching than better poetry : j | Unthinking, idf!« t wild, and young, \ I laughed, tmd danced, and talked, and sung; And, proud oi health, of freedom' vain, Dreamed not of sorrow, case, or P*in; \ Concluding, m those hours of glee, i That all the world 1 was mode for me. ! But when the houx oi trial came, When Bickneea shook this trembling frame, When gay pursuits were o'er, And I v could &mg an& dance no maze, It then occurred, "how sad Hwould- be, i Werw this world only made for me. The poor soul quitted it — and ere yet she was dead the agonised fat&tor was in such a state that the officers round about him -were obliged to set watchers over j him, and from November, 1810, George , 111 ceased to reign. All the world | [ knows the story of his malady : all his- j tory presents no sadder figure than that ! of the old map, blind and deprived of reason, wandering through the rooms of his palace, addressing imaginary parliaments, reviewing fancied troops, holding ghostly Courts. I have seen his picture as it was taken at this time hanging yi the apartment of his daughter, the j Landgravine of Hesse Homboorg, amidst books and Windsor furniture, and a hundred fond reminiscences of her English home. The poor old father is represented in a purple gown, his snowy beard j falling over his breast, the star of his famous Order still idly shining on it. j He was not only sightless, he became utterly deaf. All light, all reason, all sound of human voices, all the pleasures of this world of God were taken from him. Some slight lucid moments he had ; in one of which the Queen, desiring to see him, entered the room and found him singing a hymn and accompanying himself at the harpsichord. When he had finished he knelt down and prayed aloud for her, and then for his family, and then for the nation, concluding with a prayer for himself, that It might please God to avert his heavy calamity from hjm, but if not, to give him j resignation to submit. He .then burst into tears, and ivs v reason, again, fled. { stofyT Wnat words sAve tie sinyjiesi I

are requisite to tell it? It ia too terrible for tears. The thought of such /nisery smites me down in submission be- ■ fore the ruler of Kings and men, the - Monarch Supreme over empires and republics, the inscrutable Dispenser of life, death, happiness, victory. "O brothers," ; I said to those who heard me first in America — "O brothers ! speaking the same dear mother-tongue — O comrades ! enemies no more, let us take a mournful hand together as we stand by this royal corpse, and call a truce to battle ! Low he lies, to whom the proudest used to kneel once, and who was cast lower than , the poorest : dead, whom millions prayed for in vain. Driven off his throne ; buffeted by rude hands ; with his children in revolt ; the darling of his old age killed before him untimely ; our Lear hangs over her breathless lips anoS-ogies": Vex not his ghost. Oh! let him pasa! Ho hates him That would upon the lack of thi9 tough ■world Stretch him out longer. Hush! Strife and Quarrel, over the solemn grave ! Sound, trumpets, a mournful march I Fall, dark curtain, upon his pageant, his pride, his grief, his awful tragedy I"