This desire in him was intensified when he thought of scandals which surrounded his family. His brother Edward, with whom he had been so close during his youth, had died a year or so ago, but not before he had shocked George by his wild life; his two brothers William of Gloucester and Henry, who had become Duke of Cumberland since the death of the Victor of Culloden, were continuously causing scandal through their relationships with women; his mother's liaison with Lord Bute was still talked of on the streets; lewd songs were sung about Bute's prowess in bed and the Princess Dowager's dependence on him. Jackboot and Petticoat remained a well-known insult.
"It is necessary," said the King to Charlotte on those rare occasions when he talked to her of anything apart from the weather and children, 'that our lives are exemplary. We must show them, eh? You see that, Charlotte. What? You see we must be beyond reproach, eh?”
Charlotte did see; and she pointed out that with her constant childbearing it was hardly likely that she could be anything else. George replied that he had his duties as she had. But although he was determined to live a completely virtuous life he could not help his heart beating a little faster every time he saw a pretty woman.
He was disturbed when he heard that Sarah Lennox had given birth to a daughter who, it was said, was not her husband's, but that Sarah's cousin Lord William Gordon was the father.
"Shocking! Shocking!" said the King and thought wistfully of Sarah, adding to himself: "Lucky escape. I was well rid of that one.”
But that did not prevent his thinking of her. However virtuous a man was, and intended to continue to be, he could not help erotic images coming into his mind, much as he tried to suppress them. Then there was Elizabeth, Lady Pembroke, whom he had always admired. A beautiful woman, this Elizabeth, and not very happily married either. The Earl had eloped with a Miss Kitty Hunter some years before; George had been very sympathetic and had done his best to comfort Elizabeth, often holding her hand while he told her that if her husband failed to appreciate her, he, George, thought her one of the loveliest women he had ever seen. Elizabeth was grateful to him and if George had been slightly less virtuous he might have been her lover. But the Earl had returned and the marriage had been patched up. Yet he often dreamed of Elizabeth Pembroke.
There was Bridget, Lord Northington's eldest daughter, a charming girl. He had been rather fond of her too. Charlotte was, he admitted in his franker moments, so very plain and unexciting. But he must remember that it was the duty of the King to set an example to his people; so he diverted these desires for beautiful women into stricter controls for his own household. He himself saw that the Sunday Observance was kept, and that gambling stakes were not too high. It was soon being said that he was a petty tyrant in his household obsessed by the need to live virtuously and force others to do the same.
He was beset by political anxieties. He had suffered great disappointment over Chatham whom he had thought would take the helm as he had in his grandfather's day and guide them to prosperity.
But Chatham was not the same man that William Pitt had been. His title was like a cloak which suffocated his brilliance. He had lost the confidence of the people, and his infirmity had taken possession of him.
He kept to his house in Bond Street and lay in a darkened room cursing the gout which had laid him low; overcome by melancholia. He knew that, in his present condition, even if he could hobble to the House his mind would not be sufficiently alert to grapple with the problems of state.
George, up to this time, had a pathetic belief in Chatham. If Chatham would be the man he had once been, the country's affairs would be straightened out and all would go smoothly. But Lady Chatham was constantly writing to the King telling him that if only her husband's health matched his devotion to His Majesty and his zeal to serve him, Lord Chatham would be waiting on the King at this time.
Meanwhile there was trouble with the American Colonies who so bitterly resented interference from St. James's and were declaring that they could not and would not submit to taxation imposed by the British Government. England needed a Pitt at this time and Pitt had turned into Lord Chatham and lay writhing on his bed.
All during the summer Chatham saw no one. Whenever any of his colleagues in the Government called, Lady Chatham assured them that her husband was too ill to be seen. There were rumours as to his reasons for hiding himself away. Had he quarrelled with the King? Had he gone mad?
Grafton sought to control the party and failed. Chatham's policy of removing taxation from the American Colonies and establishing harmonious relations was overthrown and Townsend the Chancellor of the Exchequer imposed those taxes. In his dark room Chatham lay a physical and mental wreck while his wife sought to keep this fact a secret from the world. In his lucid moments Chatham wished above all things to resign and wrote to the King telling him so, but George would not let him go.
"Your name has been sufficient to enable my administration to proceed," he wrote. He was determined that ill as he was Chatham should remain ostensibly head of the Government.
But this could not continue; and some two years after he had taken office Chatham insisted on retiring and delivered up the Seal. The King was so worried on receipt of this that he paced up and down his apartment for hours. The name of Pitt had been a magic one to him and he clung to the belief that while that man was head of the Government all would be well.
He was extremely anxious to settle this niggling business of the Colonists and he was sure that Pitt could have done it and that he was the only man who could. But Chatham's resignation must perforce be accepted and Frederick second Earl of North became Leader of the House.
North was an old friend of George's. He had played with him in the nursery when North's father had been appointed his governor. George remembered Frederick North's playing in Addison's Cato when they had been very young and amateur theatricals had amused them so much. George had been Portius and his sister Augusta, Marcia. It all came back so clearly; and it was pleasant to talk over those days with Frederick who had grown into a witty man. He was very good tempered too, as well as being very like George to look at; in fact when they had been young they could have been brothers. The Prince of Wales, when they were boys, had said that the likeness was suspicious and joked with North's father that one of their wives must have played them false. The likeness was still undoubtedly remarkable; and not only that North could be as obstinate as George himself, another trait they had in common.
He had the same prominent eyes which in his case were extremely short-sighted; he had a wide mouth and thick lips and with his plump cheeks and his eyes which rolled about 'to no purpose' commented Walpole, he looked (Walpole again) like a blind trumpeter. But George did not agree with these unkind observations. He saw Frederick North as his childhood friend, so like him in many ways that the friendship could comfortably continue. If he could not have Chatham, North would do very well.
George was preparing to receive Christian VII of Denmark and Norway, husband of Caroline Matilda. The Princess Dowager was delighted that her son-in-law was coming to England, but deplored the fact that he was not bringing Caroline Matilda with him. She was with Lord Bute discussing this when news was brought to her that the King was descending from his coach to call on her.
"Oh, my dearest," she cried, 'he had better not find you here.”
They embraced and parted and she watched her lover disappear through the door which led to the secret staircase by which he would reach the street.