DEATH OF GEORGE III.
A.D. 1820
The protracted existence of the venerable monarch who had so long swayed the British sceptre was drawing to a close. Virtually his long reign terminated in 1810, with the establishment of the regency; but he was still alive, and was still dear to the hearts of his people. In November of the preceding year, however, his health underwent a considerable change, and a general decay of the constitution ensued, which betokened dissolution. Yet the strong was taken away before the weak. On the 21st of January the Duke of Kent, after a short illness, died, leaving behind him an estimable character, a devoted wife, and a princess who now fills the throne. Eight days after this his royal father expired without a struggle, in the 82nd year of his age, and, counting the ten years of the regency, in the 60th year of his reign. Over the last nine years of his reign a dark and mysterious veil had been drawn. In the periods of the deepest national solicitude his mind had felt no interest; and in the hour of the most acute domestic feeling his eye had not been wet with the tears of affection. All was dark within and without, for both reason and sight had departed from him. It does not appear, indeed, that any temporary return of reason allowed him to comprehend and rejoice at the issue of the momentous struggle in which he left his country when his malady drove him into retirement.
“Why,” said a London mechanic, with tears in his eyes, as he viewed the festivities and rejoicings in Hyde Park for the peace of Paris,—“Why is not our good old king well and here to see this sight?” This question displays the general feeling of the nation for the “good old king.” Although the latter part of his life had been a blank, his people had never lost sight of him: their interest had not been wearied by his long seclusion, nor had their love expired in the flood of victories that distinguished the regency. The least information concerning him was read with avidity, while the tear of pity and affection rolled down the cheeks of the reader. When he died, the nation went into mourning; and the writer of this section of the history well recollects the intense anxiety displayed by his subjects to catch a sight of his coffin and the crown that he once wore, when he lay in state. Day after day thousands upon thousands waited at the gate of royalty to gain admittance; and many were the tears shed, and many were the sighs heaved from the full heart, as they paced through the chamber of death. All felt that they had lost a father. The influence of his virtuous character, in preserving the nation from the contagion of French principles; the steady progress which civil and religious liberty had made during his reign: the desire which he had ever evinced to improve the moral and intellectual condition of his people, still lived in their memory, and taught them to feel when he descended into his grave that they had lost a benefactor. He was mourned over as “the dear old king,” and “the good old king,” and he will be venerated as such as long as the roll of British history remains in existence.
