The Madness of George III Read online

  (WILLIS is interrupted by the arrival of WARREN and PEPYS dressed for a masquerade.)

  WARREN: All assembled? Splendid. Bidden to a seasonal gathering at Chiswick, Pepys and I thought to combine business with pleasure.

  (PEPYS makes a bee-line for the chamber-pot as usual.)

  I take it His Majesty has been talking again. For once, Willis, I think you are being very sensible.

  WILLIS: Here is the bulletin.

  (WARREN looks it over.)

  PEPYS: No mention of the stool again, I suppose?

  WARREN: Oh, the stool, the stool. My dear Pepys. The persistent excellence of the stool has been one of this disease’s most tedious features. When will you get it into your mind that one can produce a copious, regular and exquisitely turned evacuation every day of the week, and still be a stranger to reason?

  PEPYS: Nature provides us with these clues. We neglect them at our peril.

  WARREN: Yes. Like the pulse … ‘Less regular than one has known it on some occasions, more regular than on others.’ And you say here he has been talking less. So why is he gagged?

  WILLIS: Lasciviousness. But there has been some coherent conversation.

  WARREN: Before witnesses?

  WILLIS: Do you doubt my word, sir? I am a minister of religion.

  WARREN: So was Caiaphas. (WARREN examines the KING’s head.) These have healed up nicely. Which won’t do at all. The wounds must be kept open, or the poisons will not flow. Blister him today and again tomorrow. And a very merry Christmas to you all.

  PEPYS: Merry Christmas.

  (Hearing about the blistering the KING begins to struggle and moan through the gag as PAPANDIEK wheels him away.)

  WESTMINSTER

  SHERIDAN: (In a spotlight) In England we look up with awe to kings, with affection to parliaments. Loth though I am to raise my voice against His Majesty, it must be said. Should this frail and piteous wreck of a man govern this nation? Can he do so? I say no. Let us look to the hope of this House, the Prince of Wales.

  (Shouts of ‘No, no. Never.’)

  PITT: No, no. This will not do. This is practically the worst bulletin yet. I go into the House with this, we shall lose the vote outright.

  WILLIS: The bulletin is a joint production. As you know, some of the crew are pulling for the other shore.

  DUNDAS: Then rewrite it.

  WILLIS: Can I do that?

  PITT: Of course, man. Show him, show him.

  DUNDAS: You must. Here. Quick. Tone it down.

  (DUNDAS hands WILLIS a pen and he starts to re-draft the bulletin, PITT with his back to the pair of them. It is a case of DUNDAS doing PITT’s dirty work for him, the Prime Minister careful not to soil his hands.)

  SHERIDAN: (In a spotlight) Mr Pitt brandishes an optimistic bulletin on His Majesty’s health. It occurs to some of us on this side of the House that we always get these optimistic bulletins when this matter comes to a vote.

  (Shouts of ‘Withdraw!’)

  DUNDAS: How is His Majesty? Truthfully.

  WILLIS: I need time.

  FOX: (In a spotlight) No. We will not withdraw. If His Majesty is incapacitated it is the right of the Prince of Wales to govern this kingdom.

  PITT: Only if that right is confirmed by Parliament.

  FOX: Well let us confirm it then. When are we going to see the Bill appointing the Prince Regent?

  (Shouts of ‘When? When?’)

  PITT: In due course.

  (Shouts of ‘When? When?’)

  PITT: It is still being drafted. Soon.

  SPEAKER: Order, order.

  WESTMINSTER

  THURLOW: The Bill is ready. God’s teeth, it has been ready for weeks, except that you keep wanting more restraints on the Prince. And they’re a waste of time. This Government may tie his hands, the next will untie them.

  (DUNDAS comes in.)

  PITT: Well?

  DUNDAS: We have the majority. Of ten.

  (PITT shakes his head.)

  THURLOW: Ten. That won’t last long. You’ve lost the battle. You must present the Bill. The Prince must be made Regent. (Cheerfully) These things happen. The King is not going to recover.

  DUNDAS: Not in time, certainly. And once the Prince of Wales is in charge we shall never know if he has recovered or not.

  THURLOW: Why’s that?

  PITT: Because the Regent will mew him up in some Windsor boccado and mad or sane he will never be seen again.

  THURLOW: You have been reading too many novels.

  PITT: (Taking the Bill) Very well. I will present the Bill next week.

  THURLOW: That’s right. Get it over with. Get it over with. All this excitement isn’t good for me. I am sure my pulse has gone up again. (A FOOTMAN has entered.) Yes, what is it?

  FOOTMAN: Your hat, my Lord. Your Lordship left it in the apartment of the Prince of Wales.

  THURLOW: No. Not my hat. Take it away. Doesn’t fit even.

  FOOTMAN: Your name, sir. Your coat of arms.

  THURLOW: So it is. Odd. Wonder how it got there. Still. Better put it on, dammit, lest I lose it again. Ha! So. Good afternoon, gentlemen.

  PITT: Lord Chancellor.

  (THURLOW exits.)

  DUNDAS: How long has he been hanging his hat there?

  PITT: I don’t know. But why not? He has his reputation to consider, after all. He has never been on the losing side yet.

  WINDSOR

  The KING, sitting in the restraining chair, is playing cards with GREVILLE and PAPANDIEK, the KING in nightgown and nightcap, GREVILLE and PAPANDIEK both in their shirtsleeves and PAPANDIEK without his wig. FITZROY is in attendance correctly attired and correctly behaved, and taking no part in the proceedings. WILLIS, as always, is in attendance. BAKER is just taking his leave of the KING.

  KING: snap!

  GREVILLE: snap!

  KING: Oh, by the way, Baker … One last thing …

  BAKER: Sir?

  KING: I have a little job for you. A secret mission.

  BAKER: Yes, sir?

  KING: I want you to hand over Gibraltar to Spain and see if you can get Minorca in return. Do you think you could do that?

  BAKER: I’m a physician, sir.

  KING: Then you should have no difficulty. Good afternoon. My go, is it?

  (BAKER shakes his head at WILLIS and goes out.)

  WILLIS: I have been watching you for a while, sir.

  ALL: Snap!

  KING: So you should. That’s what they pay you for.

  WILLIS: I have been watching you, but with a new eye.

  KING: A new eye? Dear me. A new eye. And what does this new eye spy?

  WILLIS: The nonsense that you talk is no longer helpless nonsense. Your improprieties are deliberate, sir, intentional. You enjoy them. They are uttered knowing you have the licence of a disturbed mind.

  KING: I am the King. I say what I want.

  ALL: Snip, snap, snorum.

  WILLIS: You are playing a game, sir.

  KING: I know. Snap.

  WILLIS: No, sir, not snap. (He snatches up the cards and stops the game. FITZROY hustles GREVILLE and PAPANDIEK from the table.) You are playing a game with me, sir. Well, enough of it. If you choose you can behave.

  (The KING tauntingly puts his feet on the table. WILLIS fixes him with his gaze and somewhat shamefacedly the KING removes them.)

  Tell me the names of your children.

  KING: Can’t. Don’t speak French.

  WILLIS: Sir.

  KING: Frederick, William, Charlotte, Edward, Augusta, Elizabeth, Ernest, Augustus, Adolphus, Mary, Sophia, my little Octavius, gone to his grave at four years old. Alfred – another dead one, Amelia.

  WILLIS: No, you’ve missed one out.

  KING: Don’t be a devil, sir.

  WILLIS: The Prince of Wales, say it, sir.

  KING: (Quietly) George.

  WILLIS: Say it.

  KING: (Louder) George.

  WILLIS: Good. And now the colonies.

&nbs
p; KING: No. No. Do not look at me, sir.

  WILLIS: Massachusetts …

  KING: Don’t be a devil.

  WILLIS: Maryland, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Connecticut …

  KING: You do not cow me. I am not one of your Lincolnshire lunatics. I am urban, metropolitan and royal, and not to be stared down by the hard gaze of some provincial parson … (He begins to stutter and shake. WILLIS indicates to PAPANDIEK to fasten the straps of the chair.)

  KING: Take your hands off me, you clumsy fool.

  PAPANDIEK: (Shocked) Sir!

  KING: Oaf.

  PAPANDIEK: Yes, sir.

  KING: No, sir.

  (He strikes PAPANDIEK, who falls, hitting his head on the floor.)

  GREVILLE: Papandiek!

  BRAUN: The Queen, the Queen!

  FITZROY: (To the PAGES) Man the door.

  WILLIS: No!

  FITZROY: His Majesty is not permitted to see the Queen by order of the Prince.

  WILLIS: Admit her. Now sir. You have a visitor. Now. I will be watching you, sir. Keep it under.

  (The QUEEN comes in. The KING turns his head away and will not look at her.)

  QUEEN: Your Majesty. Have you nothing to say to me, sir.

  KING: (Sotto voce) Say, madam? What is there to say? We were married for twenty-eight years, never separated even for a day, then you abandon me to my tormentors. Ingratitude, that is what I say.

  (Loudly, so that WILLIS can hear) It does me good to see you, my dear.

  QUEEN: The doctor said it was for your good, sir.

  KING: (Sotto voce) My good? What do they know of my good? (Loudly) This is a good little woman. The best. (Sotto voce) He’s an old fool. I can’t see what you see in him. (He starts talking quickly in German.) Du blöde Kuh. Er ist nur ein Pfarrer. Du bist eine Hure und eine Schlampe.

  WILLIS: What is His Majesty saying?

  KING: Oh, do they not speak German in Lincolnshire then? Du bist nicht hubsch. Elizabeth ist viel hubscher als du. Ich werde mit ihr schlafen. Ich werde nicht mit dir schlafen bis siebzehnhundert drei und neunzig …

  QUEEN: He is saying he does not like me. There is someone else he prefers. And I shall not share his bed again until … 1793 …

  (She weeps. The KING goes on jabbering …)

  KING: … weil ihre Titten grosser als deiner sind …

  QUEEN: … because …

  KING: Sie sind wie zwei reifen Melonen …

  WILLIS: Because what? Filth? Obscenities?

  KING: Ich möchte sie küssen …

  (The QUEEN nods tearfully.)

  WILLIS: I see you, sir.

  (WILLIS dangles the gag in front of the KING but the QUEEN pushes him away.)

  QUEEN: Go away, sir. I have something to say to His Majesty alone. Alone. George. It is possible they will not permit me to see you again. There is a Bill prepared to make the son Regent. Do you understand me? To rule in your place.

  KING: Regent? The fat one? No. No. This cannot be.

  FITZROY: Madam, please. His Majesty has not been told about the Bill.

  QUEEN: Sir, he must be told.

  KING: Regent?

  QUEEN: Yes, and not only Regent. But when the Bill passes, we shall be separated, you and I, for good.

  KING: For good. No, it is not good. No. I told Mr Pitt …

  QUEEN: No, George. Not Mr Pitt. Not any more. It will be Mr Fox.

  KING: Fox?

  QUEEN: The son and Mr Fox. We shall not see each other again. George. Do you understand me?

  (The KING begins to shake and judder and try to break free from his chair. He stamps his feet and, the QUEEN trying to stop him, clasps his legs, shouting above the din.)

  KING: No, no. No. Oh.

  QUEEN: George! George!

  WILLIS: You must leave, madam.

  FITZROY: Come away, madam, come away.

  KING: No. No.

  (FITZROY and WILLIS drag her off the KING, and WILLIS escorts her from the room.)

  KING: No. Do not leave me. Do not leave me. My skin burns like it used to. Fetch the waistcoat.

  PAPANDIEK: Sir.

  GREVILLE: Fetch it.

  KING: (He begins to rave) Oh, but the son. The father pushed aside, put out, put away. Ruled out. The father not dead even. Fasten my waistcoat, fasten it. (He starts to try and get into the waistcoat, while still fastened in the chair.)

  WILLIS: No. Leave it.

  KING: It frets my guts out like it used to.

  WILLIS: You are the master now. Time was when you could not be induced to wear it. Now you must cast it off.

  KING: Greville, Arthur, Fitzroy … It is stronger than I am.

  WILLIS: Control it, sir. Control it. Fight it, sir. Fight it.

  (The KING struggles and fights, almost as if he were having a fit. Gradually the fit passes, and the KING droops exhausted and the waistcoat falls from him.)

  Now, sir. Call your dissipated spirits home.

  (The KING picks up the waistcoat and hands it to BRAUN then takes WILLIS’s hand and kisses it.)

  KING: Oh, thank you, sir.

  WILLIS: Now there is another whom you have offended, whom you struck just now.

  KING: Papandiek.

  WILLIS: You must ask his forgiveness.

  PAPANDIEK: No.

  GREVILLE: His Majesty must not.

  KING: Forgive me. Give me your pardon.

  (PAPANDIEK kisses the KING’s hand.)

  WILLIS: No.

  GREVILLE: This is his page.

  WILLIS: No matter. He must be broken as a horse is broken.

  (The KING takes PAPANDIEK’s hand and kisses it.)

  KING: Arthur …

  (He kneels before PAPANDIEK and kisses his hand.)

  CARLTON HOUSE

  FITZROY steps from one scene to the next and also kneels, but to the PRINCE OF WALES.

  PRINCE OF WALES: This time tomorrow, Fitzroy, we shall be Regent and you will be our Master of the Horse, so we give you leave now to kiss our hand by way of acceptance. (FITZROY kisses his hand.)

  SHERIDAN: As soon as the Bill is passed Your Royal Highness should dismiss from any public office all who have supported Pitt, and replace them with our own people. By my calculations that will give us a regular majority of 150 at the very least.

  PRINCE OF WALES: Quite comfortable.

  DUKE OF YORK: Nothing for me, I suppose?

  PRINCE OF WALES: I’ve just made you Colonel of the Coldstreams.

  DUKE OF YORK: Sorry. So you have. I discovered the other day that I’m a Fellow of the Royal Society. Amazing what one is really.

  PRINCE OF WALES: So far as concerns our royal invalid, this Willis should be packed off back to Lincolnshire at once and Warren knighted and put in sole charge.

  WARREN: Sir.

  FOX: Could I show your Royal Highness a list of measures we might consider putting before Parliament …

  PRINCE OF WALES: Not now. Charles, just think of your debts being paid. All our debts being paid. I shall do things differently from my father. To me style is the thing. The King has never had any style. From now on, style is going to be everything.

  (PRINCE OF WALES, DUKE OF YORK and WARREN leave.)

  SHERIDAN: Abolition of the slave trade … parliamentary reform. These will be as unwelcome to the Prince as they would be to his father.

  FOX: You are right. All in good time. Let us come in first. Then in due course we will put paid to Mr Pitt and his kitchen principles. I will show this counting-house clerk that the nation is not simply a household. Let a housewife be thrifty, modest and shy – government is bold, restless and prodigal. It is prodigious in its expenditure, recalcitrant in its debts, lofty in its assumptions. It is not all thrift. Popular government has nothing to do with thrift.

  SHERIDAN: It hasn’t much to do with popularity, either.

  FOX: That is because we have never had time – now we shall be in office for ten years at the very least … What’s up?

  SHERIDAN: Something is not right. The Princ
e is about to be made Regent. The Government is on its last legs. We have won. Where is Thurlow?

  WINDSOR

  The KING is laid on his couch, reading Shakespeare. WILLIS and GREVILLE are reading parts.

  WILLIS: ‘Be better suited;

  These weeds are memories of those worser hours.’

  KING: ‘I prithee put them off.’ Go on, go on.

  WILLIS: ‘I prithee put them off.’

  KING: ‘How does the King?’

  WILLIS: ‘How does the King?’

  PAPANDIEK: Lord Thurlow, Your Majesty.

  KING: Ah, Thurlow. The very man.

  THURLOW: Your Majesty.

  KING: We are reading a spot of Shakespeare. Willis, give him the book, or share.

  THURLOW: (Sotto voce to WILLIS) King Lear?

  KING: Willis chose it. Doctor’s orders.

  THURLOW: Is that wise?

  WILLIS: I’d no idea what it was about.

  KING: Now. I’m asleep apparently, and Cordelia comes in and asks the Doctor – that’s Greville – how I am, you see. Off we go.

  THURLOW: Who’s Cordelia?

  KING: You are. Well, Willis can’t do it. He’s hopeless. Willis. Go down there, and watch. Right then, off we go.

  THURLOW: (As Cordelia) ‘O you kind gods

  Cure this great breach in his abused nature.

  Th’untuned and jarring senses, Ο wind up,

  Of this child-changed father.’

  KING: That’s very good. ‘Child-changed father’ ’s very good. Go on, Greville, you now.

  GREVILLE: (As Doctor) ‘He hath slept long, be by, good madam, when we do awaken him.

  I doubt not of his temperance.’

  THURLOW: ‘O my dear father! Restoration hang Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss.

  Repair those violent harms that my two sisters

  Have in thy reverence made.’

  KING: Well, kiss me, man. Come on, come on. It’s Shakespeare. (THURLOW goes for the KING’s hand.)