What do you think?
Rate this book
George III & The Mad Business
Book by Ida Macalpine, Richard Hunter
416 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1969
4 people are currently reading
70 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
Read
May 19, 2019Cutting edge treatments for mental ill health in the age of reason included cold baths, forced feeding and physical restraint (the straitjacket was the latest thing and used upon his majesty) all of which was inflicted on George III, King of Great Britain and Ireland etc etc during his repeated bouts of ill health during the latter part of his reign.
George III had, despite the inconvenient loss of the American colonies, had reigned over a prosperous period of British history. Unlike his more exuberant predecessors and successors he had presented himself as a model paterfamilias, declined to avail himself of mistresses - shocking breach of the model monarchy devised by Louis XIV and had demonstrated an interest in agricultural improvements, and appeared to be a very respectable, indeed almost bourgeois monarch.
Until the day when he started to speak continuously, eventually frothing at the mouth, and exhibited increasingly bizarre and extreme behaviours.
Macalpine's book sets out the disturbing state of mental health care at the time and tells the story of the various treatments that the King was forced to endure - despite being King the use of violent force was authorised to restrain or punish him if his behaviour was judged to to be sufficiently inappropriate - as well as advancing the thesis that he may actually have suffered from the genetic condition Porphyria, though this is still a matter of controversy.
George III's incapacity caused a political crisis resolved by making his heir Prince Regent. Unfortunately the Prince Regent's lifestyle choices including the excessive consumption of fine foods and wines led in turn to his own physical incapacity for periods of time. This invited the droll comment from the House of Commons that George III should act as regent for his regent.
George III recovered from his first bout, only to succumb to subsequent bouts, each of which was further complicated by his declining health. One of George's sisters, Caroline Matilda was married to the even more insane King Christian VII of Denmark. There she had an affair with the King's doctor, Struensee, and scandalised Copenhagen by appearing in public with him wearing matching pairs of trousers. But that's another story.
George III had, despite the inconvenient loss of the American colonies, had reigned over a prosperous period of British history. Unlike his more exuberant predecessors and successors he had presented himself as a model paterfamilias, declined to avail himself of mistresses - shocking breach of the model monarchy devised by Louis XIV and had demonstrated an interest in agricultural improvements, and appeared to be a very respectable, indeed almost bourgeois monarch.
Until the day when he started to speak continuously, eventually frothing at the mouth, and exhibited increasingly bizarre and extreme behaviours.
Macalpine's book sets out the disturbing state of mental health care at the time and tells the story of the various treatments that the King was forced to endure - despite being King the use of violent force was authorised to restrain or punish him if his behaviour was judged to to be sufficiently inappropriate - as well as advancing the thesis that he may actually have suffered from the genetic condition Porphyria, though this is still a matter of controversy.
George III's incapacity caused a political crisis resolved by making his heir Prince Regent. Unfortunately the Prince Regent's lifestyle choices including the excessive consumption of fine foods and wines led in turn to his own physical incapacity for periods of time. This invited the droll comment from the House of Commons that George III should act as regent for his regent.
George III recovered from his first bout, only to succumb to subsequent bouts, each of which was further complicated by his declining health. One of George's sisters, Caroline Matilda was married to the even more insane King Christian VII of Denmark. There she had an affair with the King's doctor, Struensee, and scandalised Copenhagen by appearing in public with him wearing matching pairs of trousers. But that's another story.
March 7, 2016
The book describes GIII's major illnesses when his reason was affected (1788-9, 1801, 1804 and 1810ff) , arguing that he suffered from Porphyria, a chemical change in the body with pretty horrid symptoms. It was probably inherited via James I who seems likely to have died of it. George III's sister probably died of it too along with his grandaughter. There's evidence that some of his sons may have been sufferers too.
His illness brought the treatment of mental illness to the fore in the public eye. The King was popular and there was great sympathy for him and his suffering. Numbers of madhouses increased dramatically on the wave of publicity following the King's illness and his apparent 'cure' by the Willises (father and son) who had their own madhouse. The King's treatment at their hands was pretty shocking. From his illness in 1810 until his death in 1820 he was kept in solitary confinement with little or no stimulation; small wonder therefore that he was barking in the end.
A very sympathetically drawn portrait of the King which marked a reversal in the assessment of George III. Here he is seen as a substantially good man and a good King rather than the weak, obstinate man who couldn't handle the job and became insane.
His illness brought the treatment of mental illness to the fore in the public eye. The King was popular and there was great sympathy for him and his suffering. Numbers of madhouses increased dramatically on the wave of publicity following the King's illness and his apparent 'cure' by the Willises (father and son) who had their own madhouse. The King's treatment at their hands was pretty shocking. From his illness in 1810 until his death in 1820 he was kept in solitary confinement with little or no stimulation; small wonder therefore that he was barking in the end.
A very sympathetically drawn portrait of the King which marked a reversal in the assessment of George III. Here he is seen as a substantially good man and a good King rather than the weak, obstinate man who couldn't handle the job and became insane.
August 4, 2008
I highly recommend this fascinating book; it seems to be out of print, but there are lots of second-hand copies on Amazon. As the title suggests, it's about poor mad George III. And even Americans, brought up to think of George II as a tyrant, might have a little sympathy for him after reading this.
It starts with a detailed account of his illness—or his illnesses, really, since he initially suffered from relatively brief bouts, separated by long periods of good health. Having offered a diagnosis of porphyria, which is a hereditary condition, Macalpine and Hunter examine the medical histories of George II's relatives and demonstrate that porphyria can be identified, with varying degrees of confidence, in a startling number of them; most notably perhaps in James I, Mary Queen of Scots and Frederick the Great of Prussia.
The book then moves on to a survey of C18th psychiatry, both in terms of its theoretical basis and treatment, and looks at the way it developed. Not surprisingly, George's illness had a huge impact on the mad-business because of the publicity surrounding it. The idea of a king being forcibly confined in a strait-waistcoat focussed people's minds on the treatment of the insane. The book traces developments in the treatment of patients and the law surrounding insanity, both in terms of treatment and things like criminal responsibility. Finally it looks at the way developments in psychiatry have affected historians' portrayal of George III.
It is, as I say, fascinating. The account of his illness is remarkable, not least because of the political chaos around it. It was just the moment when, although Britain was increasingly recognisable as a modern democracy and decision-making increasingly rested with the Prime Minister and parliament, the king was still an important enough figure that his incapacity led to a crisis. And with the question of whether or not to establish a Regency depending on it, and a Regency would mean a change of government, his treatment was incredibly politicised. His doctors issued regular bulletins about his status, which were pored over by all concerned; his doctors themselves became associated with different political factions and found it very difficult to agree on anything.
Meanwhile the king was kept from his loved ones, frequently confined to a strait-waistcoat, and was subjected to a variety of unpleasant and intrusive treatments—bleeding, cupping, blistering, emetics—none of which, we now know, did him any good at all. And at least one aspect of his treatment, a 'lowering' diet without any meat in it, will have been actively making him worse.
Still, interesting though all that is, it was starting to get a bit repetitive—thoroughness is a great quality in a historian, but doesn't always make for riveting reading—and I was glad to get past the details of George's case and onto the broader stuff, which I found fascinating. For example, as psychiatry increasingly worked under the theory that mental illnesses are self-contained and separate from physical illnesses, the king was diagnosed with 'manic-depressive psychosis' , and all of the his various and violent physical symptoms—pain, fast pulse, colic, sweating, hoarseness, stupor—were interpreted as hysterical, or even as invented by the Court to disguise the truth of his condition.
And because it was assumed that he must always have been manic-depressive, the diagnosis colours historians' portrayals of his whole personality:
Watson, in the standard Oxford history of the reign, writes : 'He lacked the pliability and easy virtue of less highly strung people. When his obstinacy encountered an immovable obstacle, all his resources were at an end and the black humour claimed him... Madness was but this mood in an extreme form.'
The book quotes a whole series of similar descriptions. But the king's early biographers presented a completely different picture, and in fact, we now know that between bouts of illness, sufferers from porphyria can be very healthy. Macalpine and Hunter are pretty scathing about psychiatry generally; the book was written in 1969, and it would be interesting to know whether they thought there had been any progress in the meantime.
It starts with a detailed account of his illness—or his illnesses, really, since he initially suffered from relatively brief bouts, separated by long periods of good health. Having offered a diagnosis of porphyria, which is a hereditary condition, Macalpine and Hunter examine the medical histories of George II's relatives and demonstrate that porphyria can be identified, with varying degrees of confidence, in a startling number of them; most notably perhaps in James I, Mary Queen of Scots and Frederick the Great of Prussia.
The book then moves on to a survey of C18th psychiatry, both in terms of its theoretical basis and treatment, and looks at the way it developed. Not surprisingly, George's illness had a huge impact on the mad-business because of the publicity surrounding it. The idea of a king being forcibly confined in a strait-waistcoat focussed people's minds on the treatment of the insane. The book traces developments in the treatment of patients and the law surrounding insanity, both in terms of treatment and things like criminal responsibility. Finally it looks at the way developments in psychiatry have affected historians' portrayal of George III.
It is, as I say, fascinating. The account of his illness is remarkable, not least because of the political chaos around it. It was just the moment when, although Britain was increasingly recognisable as a modern democracy and decision-making increasingly rested with the Prime Minister and parliament, the king was still an important enough figure that his incapacity led to a crisis. And with the question of whether or not to establish a Regency depending on it, and a Regency would mean a change of government, his treatment was incredibly politicised. His doctors issued regular bulletins about his status, which were pored over by all concerned; his doctors themselves became associated with different political factions and found it very difficult to agree on anything.
Meanwhile the king was kept from his loved ones, frequently confined to a strait-waistcoat, and was subjected to a variety of unpleasant and intrusive treatments—bleeding, cupping, blistering, emetics—none of which, we now know, did him any good at all. And at least one aspect of his treatment, a 'lowering' diet without any meat in it, will have been actively making him worse.
Still, interesting though all that is, it was starting to get a bit repetitive—thoroughness is a great quality in a historian, but doesn't always make for riveting reading—and I was glad to get past the details of George's case and onto the broader stuff, which I found fascinating. For example, as psychiatry increasingly worked under the theory that mental illnesses are self-contained and separate from physical illnesses, the king was diagnosed with 'manic-depressive psychosis' , and all of the his various and violent physical symptoms—pain, fast pulse, colic, sweating, hoarseness, stupor—were interpreted as hysterical, or even as invented by the Court to disguise the truth of his condition.
And because it was assumed that he must always have been manic-depressive, the diagnosis colours historians' portrayals of his whole personality:
Watson, in the standard Oxford history of the reign, writes : 'He lacked the pliability and easy virtue of less highly strung people. When his obstinacy encountered an immovable obstacle, all his resources were at an end and the black humour claimed him... Madness was but this mood in an extreme form.'
The book quotes a whole series of similar descriptions. But the king's early biographers presented a completely different picture, and in fact, we now know that between bouts of illness, sufferers from porphyria can be very healthy. Macalpine and Hunter are pretty scathing about psychiatry generally; the book was written in 1969, and it would be interesting to know whether they thought there had been any progress in the meantime.
January 6, 2015
An unrivalled account of the physical and mental malady of King George III, George III and the Mad-business draws heavily upon the reports of his physicians and closest associates, comprehensively chronicling the king's numerous bouts of illness throughout his long reign. The greatest success of the account is its' bringing alive of George III as a relatable, humane, and ultimately tragic figure, dispelling much of the mythologisation that centuries of misinformation has created. Ida Macalpine and Richard Hunter's central thesis, the retrospective diagnosis of porphyria, is a convincing one. Nevertheless, George III and the Mad-business would undoubtedly appeal more to the scholar than to the general reader. For example, the second part of the novel relating to the existence and manifestation of porphyria in other individuals in the Houses of Stuart, Tudor, Hanover, is of some interest, but unfortunately seems somewhat disappointing following the fantastic retelling of George III's illnesses. Despite this however, if one is even remotely interested in the so-called 'Madness of King George', then one really ought to read this book!
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews