At the time of the Prince of Wales's birth, George the Third was at the height of popularity,—the reasons for which, Mr. Croly has detailed at some length. In depicting the character of this monarch, he certainly has not employed the pencil with which it was darkened, as our readers may recollect, by Mr. Coke of Norfolk, on a recent occasion, who thus brought upon his own head a torrent of abuse. It was shocking, was it said, to disturb the repose of one who had so long been slumbering in the tomb, in the same way as it had been pronounced monstrous to say aught in disparagement of His Majesty, when he had just been gathered to his forefathers; as if kings were like private individuals, the effects of whose acts either expire with themselves, or are of contracted influence. It is far, however, from our wish, to dispute the fidelity of Mr. Croly's portrait; and we are perfectly willing to believe, that "no European throne had been ascended for a hundred years before, by a sovereign more qualified by nature and circumstances, to win golden opinions from his people, than George the Third," though, we must be allowed to think, that circumstances did not qualify him to win "golden opinions" from us Americans. "Youth, striking appearance, a fondness not less for the gay and peaceful amusements of court life, than for those field sports, which make the popular indulgence of the English land-holder, a strong sense of the national value of scientific and literary pursuits, piety unquestionably sincere, and morals on which even satire never dared to throw a stain, were the claims of the king to the approbation of his people;" but all these claims were neutralized, by the appointment of Lord Bute, as his prime minister. The odium that resulted from this measure, was carefully fomented by the arts of demagogues, the most conspicuous of whom was Wilkes. It was ascribed to an unworthy passion entertained for the handsome nobleman by the princess dowager, and to arbitrary principles in the monarch; and, such was the effect produced upon the latter, by the opposition and virulence which he encountered, that he is said to have conceived the idea of abandoning England, and retiring to Hanover. At one time, his inclination to take this step was so great, that he communicated it to the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, who honestly told him, that, "though it might be easy to go to Hanover, it might be difficult to return to England."
In December, 1765, when not quite three years of age, the Prince of Wales received a deputation from the Society of Ancient Britons, on St. David's day, and, in answer to their address, said,—"he thanked them for this mark of duty to the king, and wished prosperity to the charity,"—an early development of that talent for public speaking, which he is said to have possessed! In the same year, he was invested with the order of the garter, along with the Earl of Albemarle, and the hereditary Prince of Brunswick.
When the Prince had attained an age at which it was deemed necessary for his education to commence, it was determined that it should be conducted on a private plan; and Lord Holdernesse, "a nobleman of considerable attainments, but chiefly recommended by dignity of manner and knowledge of the court," was appointed his governor, and Dr. Markham, subsequently archbishop of York, and Cyril Jackson, were named preceptor and sub-preceptor. This measure excited a violent outcry; it was said that the heir to the throne should receive a public education at one of the great schools; and this opinion Mr. Croly strenuously advocates. It did not, however, produce any effect, and the whole course of instruction which the Prince underwent was private, though the preceptorship was twice changed. The Duke of Montague, Hurd, Bishop of Litchfield, and the Rev. Mr. Arnold, formed the last preceptorial trio.
In January, 1781, when the Prince was but a little more than eighteen, he was declared of age, "on the old ground that the heir-apparent knows no minority;" and a separate establishment, on a small scale, having been assigned to him, he now became, in a measure, his own master. In 1783, when about to take his place in the legislature, arrangements were commenced for supplying him with an income, and at the instigation of the king, the parliament voted him an annual revenue of £50,000, besides an outfit of £100,000. The sum of £60,000 for the outfit had been originally proposed by the king, but it was increased in consequence of the demand of the cabinet, known by the name of the Coalition Cabinet, some of the members of which, especially Fox, insisted for a time upon making the grant £100,000 a year. This, however, the king resolutely refused to allow, "for the double reason of avoiding any unnecessary increase to the public burdens, and of discouraging those propensities which he probably conjectured in the Prince." He accordingly demanded "but" the sums we have mentioned. Can any one read the sentence just quoted from Mr. Croly, without a smile? The precious fruits of royalty!—they even reduce a man of sense to write what is ludicrous from its absurdity. It is, without doubt, an admirable method of avoiding any unnecessary increase of the public burdens, and discouraging the evil propensities of a young man, to deprive the people of five hundred thousand dollars at once, and half that sum every year, in order to bestow it upon the individual who has no other use for it than to gratify those propensities. But, we shall be told, the heir to a throne must support his dignity. In that phrase is comprised as unanswerable an argument against royal institutions, as can be desired. The people must be heavily burthened, to enable the person by whom they are to be governed, to indulge in all sorts of excesses, and thus disqualify himself for that duty, in order that he may support the dignity of his station! Thank Heaven we live in a land in which there is no such dignity to be supported,—where the time of the great officers of state is never occupied in wrangling about the extent of the facilities which shall be afforded the successor to the administration of affairs, of bringing disgrace upon himself, and the country,—where the people are infinitely better governed, at an infinitely less expense, both of money and honour!
"Now, fully," says Mr. Croly, "began his checkered career,"—which, properly interpreted, means, that now he fully plunged into that reckless course of profligacy and folly, which terminated only with his life, and which should render his name odious to all who are friends of decency and virtue. We were afraid when we saw the announcement of the work we are reviewing, that its author would allow himself to be blinded by the regal blaze which surrounded its subject, and would endeavour to palliate those violations by a king, of the most sacred ordinances of the religion of which he is a minister, which he would have branded with indelible infamy in a private individual. Our fears, unfortunately, have not proved groundless. "There are no faults that we discover with more proverbial rapidity, than the faults of others,—and none that generate a more vindictive spirit of virtue, and are softened down by fewer attempts at palliation, than the faults of princes in the grave. Yet, without justice, history is but a more solemn libel; and no justice can be done to the memory of any public personage, without considering the peculiar circumstances of his time." Such is the sophistry with which he enters upon the task of extenuation. The first part of the first period in the above extract, is certainly undeniable—"fit nescio quomodo," says Cicero, "ut magis in aliis cernamus si quid delinquitur, quam nobismet in ipsis;" but, though the second part may also be indisputable as a general position, it is not at all applicable to this case. The historian or biographer, who is discussing the character of a monarch long since "fixed in the tomb," will doubtless find it an easy matter to make
"His virtues fade, his vices bloom,"
should he be so inclined: no other considerations but those of conscience operate then to influence his pen. But the case is quite different when he is writing about a king scarcely yet cold in the grave, when a species of popular infatuation commands that grave to be strewn with flowers, when it is necessary, as it were, to sail with the stream or sink; and when the brother of the deceased monarch has just ascended the throne, and, for the sake of appearances, may deem himself called upon to consider every thing said concerning his predecessor as touching himself. How many motives combine here to warp the judgment and the conscience, and convert sober history into funeral panegyric! Thus, if Mr. Croly had undertaken the task of delineating the moral features of Richard the III., or of James the II.—we adduce James the II., because our author seems to regard Catholicity as so monstrous a crime that this prince would, we are sure, not be drawn by him in the most flattering colours—he would have found, to use his own words, that there are no faults which generate a more vindictive spirit of virtue, than those of princes in the grave; but in depicting George the IVth., he has proved the reverse of this to be the fact. It is amusing, although at the same time melancholy, to contrast the virtuous indignation with which he pours out his anathemas against those who committed the tremendous crime of advocating and effecting the emancipation of the Catholics, with the gentle terms in which he comments upon the wanderings of the Prince of Wales from the proper path, and the glosses with which he softens their obliquity. One might be induced to suppose that his creed holds religious liberality as the crime of deadly dye, and dissipation of the lowest kind as a vice merely venial in its character.
"Without justice," he continues "history is but a more solemn libel, and no justice can be done to the memory of any public personage, without considering the peculiar circumstances of his time." This remark is true with regard to those public personages whom he has so severely taken to task for their conduct respecting the Catholic question; had not his mind's eye been covered with a film, he would have perceived that the "peculiar circumstances of the time" fully warranted that change in the course pursued by Mr. Peel, the Duke of Wellington, and others, with reference to that important question, which has drawn from him such expressions of horror; but it is far from being equally admissible where he has applied it. That less tenderness should be extended towards the vices of princes than to those of subjects is, we think, undeniable, when the weightier (secular) reasons they have for keeping a strict control over their passions, are considered,—reasons which should completely counterbalance any greater temptations they may be obliged to undergo.
"A sovereign's great example forms a people; The public breast is noble or is vile, As he inspires it."
"The man whom Heaven appoints To govern others, should himself first learn To bend his passions to the sway of reason."