The King had regained a little of his senses and refused the cordial, but the Queen begged the apothecary to administer it in some way in spite of the King's protests, and with the help of the pages the liquid was forced down George's throat.
In a short time the fit subsided and he lay quietly in his bed. There was no doubt now that the King was seriously ill and the malady had taken an alarming turn, for the King talked incessantly and at great speed, and at times it was not very clear what he meant; his mind seemed to dart from one subject to another and before saying what he wished to about one he would be on to the next.
A few days after the fit in the night, he went to church with the Queen and the Princesses and while the sermon was being delivered he suddenly rose in his seat and started to embrace the Queen and the Princesses.
"You know what it is to be nervous," he cried.
The Queen was terrified; in fact she was growing more and more alarmed every day. She did her best to calm him.
"Please, George we are in church ... church, do you understand?”
The helpless manner in which he looked about him made her want to weep; but he allowed her to take his hand and force him back into his seat. Thank God, she thought, that the wall of the pew was high enough to prevent their being seen by the rest of the congregation. They went quietly back to the Palace and she persuaded him to rest in his room. This could not go on. The doctors must decide what ailed the King, but deep in the Queen's heart was a fear which had been with her ever since his derangement all those years ago.
"He recovered from that," she told herself. "He will recover from this.”
A few days later the King went to a concert and when he returned he grasped the Queen's arm and said to her, "The music seemed to affect my head. I could scarcely hear it.”
"It is because you are not well. When you are well you will enjoy music as much as you ever did.”
He looked at her in a wild, almost unrecognizing manner.
"Shall I, Charlotte?" he said. "Shall I?”
"But of course. The doctors are going to cure you.”
"Of what?" he whispered.
She did not answer; she could not look at him; but he gripped her arm fiercely and cried: "Tell me of what, Charlotte. Tell me of what?”
She looked up at him bravely. "Of your illness," she answered.
Then he released her and turning his head away burst into tears. "I wish to God I may die," he said, 'for I am going mad.”
What can I do? Charlotte asked herself. How could she keep this distressing illness from becoming public knowledge? She thought of the Prince of Wales who for so long had despised his father. What would he be feeling now? He had disappointed them; the charming child of the nursery had become the gay young man about town.
He was all that his parents were not; he was becoming known as the First Gentleman of Europe; and although she knew he was so wild and perhaps wicked she could not help loving him and ...
yes, admiring him. What would he do now?
The King came bursting into her apartments. All his movements were violent and he seemed in a desperate hurry.
"Ah, Charlotte ... here we are! Fresh air, Charlotte. It's good for you. Must have it, eh? What? Are you ready? Come on ... a five-mile walk. Good for you. Mustn't get fat. Too much fat in the family, eh? What?”
She remonstrated with him. Was he not taking too much exercise? Did the doctors not say he should go more slowly? What about a drive? That would be better. They could go farther afield.
He did not seem to be listening, but when she led him to the carriage he got in without a word.
She sat down beside him and let him talk of the beauties of the countryside. And how he talked.
He talked of farms, of button-making, of Mrs. Delany's paper mosaics, pleasant subjects like the Princess Amelia and unpleasant ones like the Prince of Wales.
Suddenly the King shouted to the driver to stop. The carriage came to rest by an oak tree. The King alighted, bowed to the oak, approached it with great dignity and shook one of the lower branches. For some seconds he stood there talking as though to the tree; and watching, being aware of the driver and the footman looking on, Charlotte felt a great fear and depression sweep over her.
After a while the King bowed, shook the oak branch again and took his seat in the carriage.
"I think," he said, 'that I have put our case clearly to the King of Prussia.”
There were rumours throughout the Court and the City. What is happening to the King? Is it true that his mind is deranged? The Prince of Wales consulted with his friend what this would mean. A Regency? With the Prince in command. And it seemed very desirable to them all.
The Prince of Wales came to Kew to see for himself if the rumours were true. He was astonished at the sight of his father who had changed considerably in the last few months. He had been right when he had said that suddenly he had become an old man.
He received the Prince with dignity and made no reference to their disagreements. The Queen was on the verge of hysteria; she feared the King would become violent. She could not much longer, she knew, keep his state from the attendants; and she lived in terror of what he would do next.
It was inevitable that the Prince of Wales, who had given him so much cause for that anxiety which had without doubt hastened him to his present condition, should bring affairs to a climax.
During dinner the King suddenly began shouting at his son, talking fast and incoherently, but it was obvious that he was abusing him as he rose from his place and went to where his son was sitting. He began to shout at him and the Prince of Wales, rising in his chair, touched his arm gently and said: "Father, I beg of you lower your voice.”
The King was seized with a sudden fury against his son. He took him by the throat and throwing him against the wall appeared to be about to strangle him.
"Who shall dare tell the King of England he shall not speak out, eh? What? Tell me that? Tell me that? Tell me that?”
The footmen rushed forward to rescue the Prince; the Princesses rose to their feet, all colour drained from their faces; the Queen sat clenching and unclenching her hands, her lips tightly pressed together as she forced herself not to scream out that she could endure no more.
Colonel Digby, Charlotte's Chamberlain, bowed to the King who was struggling to free himself from the footmen and suggested that he allow him to conduct him to bed.
"Don't dare touch me, sir," screamed the King. "I will not go. Who are you?”
"I am Colonel Digby, sir," was the calm reply. "Your Majesty has been very good to me often and now I am going to be good to you, for you must come to bed. It is necessary to your life.”
The King was so struck by this speech that he grew silent. Tears filled his eyes as Colonel Digby, taking him by the arm, led him away. The Prince of Wales was almost fainting and his eldest sisters hurried to bathe his forehead with Hungary water.
The Queen said to two of her women: "Pray conduct me to my apartments." They obeyed and when she reached them she threw herself on to her bed and gave way to fits of laughter of a wild hysterical kind. Her women were terrified; and she sat up in bed and cried: "What will become of me? What will become of us all?”
Having reached his room the King seemed to grow calmer.
"Where is the Queen, eh?" he kept demanding. "What have you done with the Queen, eh? What?
You are trying to separate me from the Queen.”
"The Queen is indisposed, sir," Colonel Digby told him.
"Indisposed? The Queen ill? Then she will want me with her. I will go to the Queen. Do not stand in my way, sir. The Queen is ill; therefore I must be with her.”