5th, 1829 {p.188}

The Duke of Newcastle was with the King an hour and a half or two
hours. After he had presented his petitions he pulled out a
paper, which he read to the King. His Majesty made him no answer,
and desired him if he had any other communications to make to him
to send them through the Duke of Wellington. I dare say this is
true, not because he says so, but because there has been no
notice taken of the Duke's visit in any of the newspapers. They
now talk of thirteen bishops, and probably more, voting with
Government. I suppose the majority will be very large.

[Page Head: PERSONAL HABITS OF GEORGE IV.]

March 16th to 17th, 1829

I received a message from the King, to tell me that he was sorry
I had not dined with him the last time I was at Windsor, that he
had intended to ask me, but finding that all the Ministers dined
there except Ellenborough, he had let me go, that Ellenborough
might not be the only man not invited, and 'he would be damned if
Ellenborough ever should dine in his house.' I asked Lord
Bathurst afterwards, to whom I told this, why he hated Ellenborough,
and he said that something he had said during the Queen's trial
had given the King mortal offence, and he never forgave it. The
King complains that he is tired to death of all the people about
him. He is less violent about the Catholic question, tired of
that too, and does not wish to hear any more about it. He leads a
most extraordinary life--never gets up till six in the afternoon.
They come to him and open the window curtains at six or seven
o'clock in the morning; he breakfasts in bed, does whatever
business he can be brought to transact in bed too, he reads every
newspaper quite through, dozes three or four hours, gets up in
time for dinner, and goes to bed between ten and eleven. He
sleeps very ill, and rings his bell forty times in the night; if
he wants to know the hour, though a watch hangs close to him, he
will have his _valet de chambre_ down rather than turn his head
to look at it. The same thing if he wants a glass of water; he
won't stretch out his hand to get it. His valets are nearly
destroyed, and at last Lady Conyngham prevailed on him to agree
to an arrangement by which they wait on him on alternate days.
The service is still most severe, as on the days they are in
waiting their labours are incessant, and they cannot take off
their clothes at night, and hardly lie down. He is in good
health, but irritable, and