Under the date of March 31, 1837, Charles Greville writes: "Among the many old people who have been cut off by this severe weather, one of the most remarkable is Mrs. Fitzherbert, who died at Brighton at above eighty years of age. She was not a clever woman, but of a very noble spirit, disinterested, generous, honest, and affectionate, greatly beloved by her friends and relations, popular in the world, and treated with uniform distinction and respect by the Royal Family." The death of this celebrated woman recalls to memory one of the saddest and most shameful chapters in the whole sad and shameful story of the utterly worthless Prince who became George the Fourth. [Sidenote: 1756-1837--Illness of William the Fourth] Meanwhile the reign of William the Fourth was hastening to its close. The King had had several attacks of illness, and more than once, before the end was yet quite near, his physical condition went down so low that those around him believed it impossible for him to rise again. He rallied, however, more than once, and regained his good spirits and gave hope to those who had any real wish for his recovery that the reign had not yet quite come to an end. In some of his better moods he showed glimpses of that higher nature which was wont to assert itself fitfully now and then at many periods of his career. More than once he prayed fervently in these later days that his life might be spared until the Princess Victoria should come of age. Almost to the end the usual festivities were kept up at Windsor Castle, and the Queen, by his wish, visited the race-course at Ascot a few days before the end came; but it is recorded that she only remained an hour on the ground. The formal announcement that the King was seriously ill was not made until within a few days of the sovereign's death. Even when regular bulletins began to be issued, they were so sparing of their information, and {290} so carefully guarded against any suggestion of alarm, that the outer public had really very little to go upon, except the bare fact that the King was growing to be an old man, and that he was liable to fits of illness just as he had been for years before. It would appear that it was William's whim to dictate the bulletins himself, and that he was very anxious not to allow a word to go forth which might convey a knowledge of his actual condition. The poor old sovereign was apparently inspired by the full conviction that the prolongation of his life was of the utmost importance to the welfare of his people, and it may be fully believed that his unwillingness to admit the imminence of danger to his life came from an honest sort of public purpose. He gave his attention to the business of the State almost to the very last. All the time those who were immediately around the sinking sovereign knew quite well that the end was close at hand, and were already consulting earnestly and constantly as to