One night the king suddenly appeared among them, and roughly asked what they were there for. They endeavored to pacify him, but in vain; he treated them all as enemies. His second son had slipped out as the father entered, and that made a favorable impression on the poor invalid, who said, touchingly, "Freddy is my friend,—yes, he is my friend!" At last, after a good deal of maneuvering and whispering on the part of the gentlemen present, one of' them with gentle firmness led him back to bed.
Everything was badly managed at Windsor just at this time; for the simple reason that the queen, rather from necessity than choice, submitted to the Prince of Wales and depended on him, and he lost no time in making her feel that he was supreme master. Nothing was done but by his orders; and the queen spent her time in patient sorrow and retirement with her daughters, whose conduct formed a pleasing contrast to that of the sons.
The Prince of Wales was desirous that his father should be removed from Windsor to Kew; but the question arose as to how he could be induced to make the change. On being assured that the quiet and fresh air of the country were necessary for the patient, the queen decided to go at once. She proceeded, without state, accompanied by her daughters, to Kew. On arriving there she found half the apartments locked up by the prince's orders, while on the doors of the few allotted to the queen and her modest retinue the names of those who were to occupy them were scratched in chalk. It was night before the king arrived. He had not been permitted to see his wife and daughters for some weeks, and he was wheedled away from Windsor by being told that they were at Kew, and by a promise that they should be admitted to his presence. He made the journey, therefore, in silent content, but the promise was broken. The queen was assured it was for the best, and the royal patient spent the night in violence and raving because of the cruel disappointment to which he had been subjected.
Meanwhile preparations were going on to name the prince-regent, the king's friends taking great pains that, in case of his recovery, his rights should not be infringed upon. And he did recover this time; for Dr. Willis, of Lincoln, a man who had devoted himself to the study of nervous diseases, was summoned. He arrived with his two sons, and took the royal patient in charge, with such good result that on the tenth of December he walked in the garden alone.
A.D. 1789. On the first day of the new year the queen was gratified with a most favorable report; for Miss Burney, whose duty it was to make inquiries about the royal patient the first thing every morning, was informed that during the night he had prayed aloud for his own recovery. On the eighteenth he remembered that it was the queen's birthday, and expressed a desire to see her; but that pleasure was still denied him. A few days later, Miss Burney was walking in the garden, when she suddenly and most unexpectedly encountered the king, who, she supposed, had been taken to Richmond Gardens. As her majesty, acting by the doctor's advice, had ordered everybody to keep out of the patient's way, and not to address him on any account, Miss Burney no sooner recognized him than she fairly took to her heels. The king called her by name, and was so delighted at the sight of an old familiar face that he ran after her. The Willises, father and sons, followed close behind, somewhat in alarm. Miss Burney kept on in breathless affright, until the older doctor peremptorily ordered her to stop, with the assurance that further agitation would be injurious to the patient. She then turned and advanced to meet the king, as though she had not before been aware of his presence. He put his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek, then held her lest she should run away from him while he spoke, rapidly, hoarsely, and at times incoherently, about family matters, politics, foreign affairs, art, and music,—singing something from his favorite Handel, but so falsely that his hearers were alarmed. He showed plainly that he was aware of his condition, and named those whom he meant to promote and to discharge as soon as he was well.
At last, after various vain attempts, Dr. Willis induced him to return to the house; and Miss Burney ran to relate to the queen all that had happened. Her majesty listened with breathless interest, and made the young lady repeat every word of her recital again and again. All that the poor queen heard filled her with encouragement, and she was not to be disappointed; for the following month the king was well enough to write a letter to Mr. Pitt, informing him that he was prepared to resume the government of his realm, and appointing a day for an interview with his council.
A message to parliament, informing them of the king's recovery, was followed by bonfires, illuminations, and other demonstrations of public rejoicing. On the seventeenth of March the queen caused Kew Palace to be decorated with thousands of colored lanterns, and a transparency, beneath which were these lines that she herself had composed:—
"Our prayers are heard, and Providence restores
A patriot-king to bless Britannia's shores.
But not to Britain is the bliss confin'd: