"Hold your tongue, sir," roughly retorted the king; "you had better go home and learn to read." This was so public an insult that Torrington ought to have resented by instantly resigning, but he probably was a daily witness to just such scenes; for the king could not bridle his temper, and lost no opportunity of showing dislike of everybody who surrounded him. He was so absurd as to admit only Tories to his private society, and no member of the Whig cabinet was ever entertained at Windsor.
A.D. 1836. The Duchess of Kent came in for her share of his ill-humor at a birthday-dinner. She and Princess Victoria were invited to go to Windsor on the twelfth of August, to celebrate the queen's birthday, and to stay there until after that of the king, on the twenty-first. She sent word that she wanted to keep her own birthday on the fifteenth, at Claremont; took no notice of the queen whatever, in her reply, but said she would go to Windsor on the twentieth. This put the king in a perfect fury, but he made no reply. He was in town on the day the duchess had named for her arrival, for the purpose of assembling parliament, and having desired them not to wait dinner for him at Windsor, marched off to Kensington Palace to spy into the state of affairs there.
He flew into a rage on discovering that the duchess had appropriated to her own use a suite of apartments, seventeen in number, which he had refused during the previous year to let her have. This was a piece of intrusion that his angry majesty would not bear meekly, so he hastened to Windsor to give vent to his feelings. It was ten o'clock at night when he arrived, and, walking straight into the drawing-room, where the whole court were assembled, he approached the Princess Victoria, took hold of both her hands, and in a loud tone of voice expressed his pleasure at seeing her there, and his regret at not being oftener gratified in that respect. Then, turning towards the duchess, and making a stately bow, he continued, in a still louder tone: "A most unwarrantable liberty has been taken in one of my palaces; I have just come from Kensington, where I found apartments taken possession of, not only without my consent, but contrary to my commands; this I cannot understand, nor will I endure conduct so disrespectful."
An embarrassed silence followed this coarse attack, which proved only the prelude to a storm that was to break next day. It was the twenty-first of August, the king's birthday, and a hundred people of the court and neighborhood were assembled at dinner in the palace. The Duchess of Kent sat on one side of the king, one of his sisters on the other, and the Princess Victoria opposite. Near the conclusion of the meal, at the queen's desire, the health of his majesty was proposed. All the guests drank it standing, according to custom, and then followed a long speech by the king, during which he poured forth the following terrible tirade: "I trust in God my life may be spared for nine months longer, after which period, in the event of my death, no regency would take place. I should then have the satisfaction of leaving the royal authority to the personal exercise of that young lady (pointing to the princess), the heiress-presumptive to the crown, and not in the hands of a person now near me, who is surrounded by evil advisers, and who is herself incompetent to act with propriety in the station in which she would be placed. I have no hesitation in saying that I have been insulted, grossly and continually insulted, by that person, but I am determined to endure no longer a course of behavior so disrespectful to me. Amongst many other things, I have particularly to complain of the manner in which that young lady (again pointing to the princess) has been kept away from my court; she has been repeatedly kept from my drawing-rooms, at which she ought always to have been present, but I am fully resolved that this shall not happen again. I would have her know that I am king, and I am determined to have my authority respected, and for the future I shall insist and command that the princess do upon all occasions appear at my court, as it is her duty to do."
This speech was made in a most excited manner, and took everybody completely by surprise. The queen looked distressed, the princess burst into tears, and the whole company were shocked. The Duchess of Kent remained perfectly silent, but immediately rose and retired. She then announced her intention to depart at once, and ordered her carriage; but a sort of reconciliation was patched up, and she was persuaded to stay until the next day.
The king asked one of his gentlemen what people said about his speech, and was told that the general opinion was that the Duchess of Kent merited the rebuke, though it ought not to have been given there before a hundred people. His majesty replied: "I do not care where I said it or before whom; I had been insulted in a measure by her that was past endurance, and I will not stand it any longer."
A.D. 1837. The middle of this year was marked by the illness of the king, which did not cause alarm at first; but it was greatly increased by another quarrel with the Duchess of Kent. This was the cause of it: The king wrote a letter to Princess Victoria, offering her ten thousand pounds a year for her own use, quite independently of her mother, which he sent by Lord Conyngham, with orders to deliver into the princess's own hands. On arriving at Kensington, Conyngham asked to be admitted to the presence of the princess. He was requested to state by what authority he made such a demand. He said by his majesty's orders. Shortly after he was ushered into a room where sat the Duchess of Kent with her daughter. He made a speech, saying, "that he had waited on her royal highness by the king's commands, to present to her a letter with which he had been charged by his majesty." Thereupon the duchess put out her hand to take it; but the lord begged her royal highness's pardon, saying, "That he had been expressly commanded by the king to deliver the letter into the princess's own hands." Then the duchess drew back, and Victoria took the letter. After reading it, she wrote to thank the king and accept the offer. That was the signal for a grand dispute, for the king desired his niece to name a person who was to receive the money for her, and suggested Stephenson. The Duchess of Kent positively objected, and put in her claim for part of the money. She was exceedingly angry with the king, and he with her, and a great deal of harsh, bitter correspondence resulted; but the matter was never settled, for his majesty's illness prevented.
He was ill for several days before he would permit anybody to say in his presence that such was the case, and continued to do business as long as possible, even dictating the reports about his condition himself. On the seventeenth of June prayers were offered for his majesty in the churches, and the following day the sacrament was administered by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He said, just after the ceremony: "This is the eighteenth of June; I should like to live to see the sun of Waterloo set." For three weeks the faithful wife sat at his bedside, performing for him every office he required, totally depriving herself of rest or recreation. This was a labor of love, for Queen Adelaide had always been devoted to her husband. With his head upon her shoulder, and her hand upon his breast, his majesty gently dropped into the sleep that knows no waking.
His remains lay in state at Windsor Castle until July 8, when he was buried at St. George's Chapel. For the last time the royal crown of Hanover was placed beside the imperial crown on the coffin of a King of England. Queen Adelaide, now Queen-dowager, was present in the royal closet. When the coffin had been lowered, dust thrown upon it, the blessing pronounced, and a rocket sent up from the door of the chapel, the flag at the Round Tower was lowered, and the royal widow left, followed by the mourners.
A.D. 1849. Queen Adelaide lived until the close of the year 1849. Parliament had made her rich by giving her a hundred thousand pounds, which she devoted to charity. Neither rank nor wealth ever spoiled the simplicity of her heart or her manners. She always respected the memory of her husband, over whose reign she had shed a respectability that did her credit. She was not what might be termed a woman of brains, and never influenced the king for good or for evil; but she was wise enough not to interfere in state affairs, and for her virtues she merits respect.