A Glass of Brandy Before the Altar: George IV and the Cost of the Crown
From a reluctant wedding and a glass of brandy at the altar to the glittering excess of the Regency court.
Before the wedding ceremony even began, the Prince of Wales reportedly asked his valet for a glass of brandy.
It was an unusual beginning for a royal marriage—and perhaps an even more fitting beginning for the life of George IV, a king whose reign would come to symbolize the splendor and excess of the Regency age.
The previous episode can be found here…
👑 George III
When George III ascended the British throne in 1760, he was only twenty-two years old. His reign lasted nearly six decades and proved to be one of the most turbulent in British history. Britain lost its American colonies, watched the French Revolution unfold across the Channel, entered the age of the Industrial Revolution, and fought exhausting wars against Napoleon.
The king was a man of strict morals, family devotion, and religious discipline. Together with Queen Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, he created one of the largest royal families of the era—fifteen children: nine sons and six daughters.
The eldest son, Prince George, was born in 1762. From childhood his position was predetermined: he was the heir to the throne, the Prince of Wales, and the future monarch. The question was never whether he would become king, but rather what kind of king he would be—and when?
The British system of succession at the time was based on male primogeniture: the throne passed to the eldest legitimate son. With eight younger brothers behind him, his claim was never in doubt.
Yet fate arranged matters so that by 1811 the prince had already begun to rule the country in practice. His father, suffering from severe bouts of mental illness, was declared incapable of governing. The British Parliament therefore passed the necessary act, under which the eldest son George—the future George IV—became Prince Regent.
It was during this period that luxury, gastronomy, and alcohol became not only part of court life, but part of the character of the future king.
👑🍷 George IV
His father, George III, had been a monarch of discipline: deeply religious, inclined toward family life rather than courtly excess, interested in agriculture, and living comparatively moderately.
His son—the Prince of Wales, George—grew up at court but chose an entirely different model of behavior. If the father regarded the crown as a duty, the son treated it almost as a stage prop.
He quickly found himself at the center of London’s high society: spending enormous sums on clothing, commissioning the finest carriages, hosting long and extravagant dinners, and building the Brighton Pavilion.
👉🏰 The Brighton Pavilion—what was it?
This refers to the Royal Pavilion in Brighton, the eccentric seaside residence of the Prince Regent, built in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries on England’s southern coast.
In the future king’s vision, the building was meant to be not merely a palace, but a theatre of luxury. Its exterior resembled an Indian palace with domes and minarets, while the interiors were decorated in a Chinese style, with dragons, lacquered panels, and enormous chandeliers shaped like fantastical creatures.
The Brighton Pavilion was a palace that looked as if Versailles sent on an extravagant journey through India and China.
The pavilion became a symbol of the Regency era—a time when taste, exoticism, and demonstrative splendor were valued no less than political restraint.
By the early 1790s, the Prince of Wales had accumulated debts exceeding £600,000—an astronomical sum for the time.
Parliament refused to cover them without certain conditions: he had to marry a suitable Protestant princess and provide the throne with an heir. Marriage thus became a financial instrument, and the prince’s private life turned into a matter of state.
🤫💍 A Secret Marriage
In 1785, the prince secretly married Maria Fitzherbert. She was a Catholic, a widow, older than the prince, and not a member of a ruling dynasty. From a religious perspective the marriage was valid—but legally it was void.
According to the Act of Settlement of 1701, the heir to the British throne was forbidden to marry a Catholic. Such a union would automatically deprive him of his right to the crown.
The prince thus found himself in a situation that would become rather typical of his life: emotions on one side, obligations on the other.
This marriage placed him in a complicated and precarious position.
⚖️💍 Caroline—A Marriage of Necessity
When the prince’s debts became a political problem, the question of his marriage ceased to be a private matter.
The search for the “right” bride involved King George III, the British government, court advisers, and diplomats. It was a classic dynastic search.
The choice eventually fell upon Caroline of Brunswick. She was Protestant—critically important for the heir to the British throne—and came from a German princely house connected by family ties to the British House of Hanover.
Politically, the match was safe and convenient.
This was not a romantic encounter but a careful diplomatic calculation. The union had been arranged long before the bride and groom first saw one another—their marriage was the result of negotiations, not acquaintance.
In the eighteenth century, heirs to the throne rarely chose their spouses.
Their spouses were chosen for them
Within royal families, love could be an accident, but it was rarely the foundation of a marriage
The future newlyweds felt no personal sympathy for one another. According to a widely repeated account, the first words George spoke upon seeing his future bride were:
— “Harris, I feel sick. Pray give me a glass of brandy.”
(Harris was the prince’s valet.)
Historians debate the exact wording, but contemporaries agreed on one point: the first impression was extremely unfavorable.
A glass was brought. Then another. Then a third.
That evening, brandy was no longer merely a drink, but a way of coming to terms with the inevitable.
It would not be the last time.
👑💒 The Wedding
Before he even reached the altar, George asked for brandy.
The wedding took place on April 8, 1795, in the chapel of St. James’s Palace in London. The Prince of Wales entered the marriage not in romantic excitement, but in a state of reluctant acceptance.
By the time the ceremony began, he had already been drinking.
Polite contemporaries noted that he appeared “greatly agitated.”
Less polite observers described him as “thoroughly intoxicated.”
According to eyewitness accounts, he had to be supported at the altar. The words of the vows sounded uncertain on his lips, and at one point he even began to cry.
Historians have never reached a consensus about the nature of these emotions. Tears of happiness seem unlikely. Tears of despair are far more plausible. Or perhaps they were those particular emotions softened by a considerable quantity of brandy—when a person suddenly begins to feel sorry for himself and for the fate that awaits him.
In any case, tears did not fit well with the image of a confident heir to an empire. They may have been the only sincere element of the entire ceremony—along with the alcohol consumed beforehand.
Caroline, by contrast, carried herself with dignity. Her position was no less vulnerable: she had arrived in a foreign country beside a husband who, from the very first moments, made no attempt to conceal his disappointment.
Then came the wedding night.
History preserved a detail worthy of an English comedy: the prince allegedly fell asleep by the fireplace without fulfilling his “dynastic duty.” Once again, brandy proved stronger than the obligations of the crown.
History knows many weddings arranged for political reasons.
But not every one of them begins with a request for brandy
🏰 An Evening in Brighton
Prince George’s pavilion in Brighton was not a palace in the traditional English sense. Its domes and minarets resembled an oriental fantasy rather than a British residence. Inside were dragons painted on lacquered panels, heavy silk curtains, and chandeliers that looked like inverted cascades of flowers.
In architecture, as in his habits, he rarely knew moderation
The table stretched along the hall, reflecting the trembling light of candles in polished silver. The feast began slowly, almost ceremoniously.
George IV was obsessed with gastronomy. He hired the finest chefs, supervised the menus, and took a keen interest in French cuisine. At official banquets up to one hundred dishes might be served.
The meal often began with turtle soup—thick and rich. It was one of the most fashionable and expensive dishes of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, symbolizing status, access to colonial goods, and costly imports.
Then came pheasant, veal under heavy sauces, oysters, and aspic dishes decorated with herbs.
At the center of the table stood a pineapple—a rarity and a symbol of wealth, almost a decorative trophy of overseas trade. They were brought at considerable expense and served as proof that, for the prince, nothing was impossible.
Wine was not merely poured—it was constantly replaced by another. Madeira gave way to claret, claret to champagne.
When the main dishes had been cleared, port appeared on the table—dark, dense, and unhurried.
And closer to midnight—brandy.
After drinking, the prince grew animated and talkative. He became witty, loved to speak about French cuisine and architecture. His laughter sounded louder than the others—sometimes a little longer than necessary.
He loved these hours, when silver rang softly and the light danced in the glasses.
The servants, gliding along the walls, exchanged glances:
— Tonight he started early with Madeira. If he reaches the brandy, we’ll have to carry him.
Conversations at the table became less coherent. Gestures grew wider and sharper.
By midnight the collar of George’s uniform was already unfastened. His face was flushed. His gaze had begun to lose focus.
The feast did not end abruptly—it simply dissolved.
Guests left one by one. Candles went out.
The prince remained seated in an armchair by the fireplace, leaning heavily back like a man who had managed, for a few hours, to forget about debts, Parliament, and a marriage to a woman he did not love.
On evenings like these, the Brighton Pavilion became not a residence, but a refuge.
At that time no one yet spoke of the heart, of gout, or of the king’s steadily increasing weight. Luxury was considered a sign of strength. Abundance—a proof of greatness.
A man who did not know how to stop—neither in debts, nor in food, nor in wine.
Yet already in these evenings, stretching deep into the night, in the heavy sauces and fortified wines, lay the future that would eventually catch up with him: slow, inevitable, and entirely devoid of royal brilliance.
📜 Historical Finale
Despite its unhappy beginning, the marriage did fulfill its dynastic purpose. In January 1796, the couple had a daughter—Princess Charlotte of Wales.
Princess Charlotte quickly became the darling of the nation. Many saw in her the hope for a more stable future for the monarchy—especially against the background of her parents’ troubled relationship.
However, the marriage of George and Caroline effectively collapsed soon after their daughter’s birth. They lived separately, and their conflict gradually became public.
In 1811, after the final loss of King George III’s capacity to rule, Prince George became Prince Regent and effectively began governing the country. Thus began the Regency era—a time of cultural brilliance and outward magnificence, but also of political tension.
In 1817, tragedy struck the dynasty once again: Princess Charlotte died in childbirth. Her death caused nationwide mourning and cast uncertainty over the line of succession.
In 1820, after the death of his father, George ascended the throne as George IV. His reign lasted until 1830.
By this time the king’s health had been seriously undermined by obesity, gout, heart problems, and general physical weakness. His favorite drink was said to be port, along with other fortified wines. Contemporaries noted that he often began the day with alcohol and ended it the same way—drinking as if sobriety were a personal insult.
Alcohol may have been his way of easing anxiety, escaping reality, and steadying himself.
For him, alcohol may have served as a way to ease anxiety, escape reality, and regulate his emotions.
It was no longer mere indulgence, but a kind of emotional compensation. George drank not because he had no other choice, but because he could allow himself everything—and never quite knew where to stop.
📜 One can imagine how, one day, his personal physician cautiously spoke to him about his heart, about gout, about the need for moderation.
The king listened, nodding wearily.
He already knew all of this.
And perhaps he merely waved a hand slightly—as if such warnings were simply part of court etiquette rather than a sentence.
Moderation had never been among his virtues.
Despite his tendency toward excess, he was also a trendsetter. He popularized dark, restrained suits, helped shape the English style of men’s dress, and was a patron of artists and architects—a man excessive in many ways, yet aesthetically refined.
While the allied armies, including the British, were defeating Napoleon, the Prince Regent George remained in London. The victory over Napoleon became a triumph for Britain—but not a personal one for him. His era is remembered for its brilliance rather than for war, even though it was during his regency that Britain achieved one of its greatest military victories.
History is sometimes paradoxical.
George died on June 26, 1830, at the age of sixty-seven.
After him the throne passed to his younger brother, William IV.
And in 1837, his niece Queen Victoria ascended the throne. Her long reign became the symbol of an entirely different age—the Victorian era—more restrained, more morally strict, and far less inclined toward demonstrative excess.
Portrait of the young Queen Victoria
💡 If Charlotte had survived, the Victorian era might never have existed. The death of Princess Charlotte in 1817 effectively set in motion the chain of events that eventually brought Queen Victoria to the throne.
George IV entered history as an eccentric, extravagant monarch inclined toward excess—including excess in wine. He was a man of an age when indulgence was seen as a sign of greatness, yet he died as a man who paid for it with a body weakened by illness and suffering.
The history of monarchy often appears as a sequence of dates, wars, and dynastic alliances.
Yet sometimes it begins with a private gesture—a glass of brandy raised not for love, but for duty.
And in that glass there may be more truth about the man than in the crown itself
🖋🤖 This material was prepared with the assistance of AI as a research and editorial tool.
Leave a Reply