The Mad King

The madness of kings- Did ye ever see that movie the Madness of King George? The King in his nightshirt scarpering over the lawns, at dawn, his anxious footmen following.

Twittering on voluptuously, hallucinatin, his perriwig n hose. Or at the palace of Versailles to hear a symphony he makes lewd suggestions to the ladies-in-waiting.

At first, no-one tells him what to do. It's all "Yes, your Majesty, of course, your Majesty". The deranged monarch in this position of unquestioned power lost all decorum. Could've pissed on the floor if he chose.

He goes on a wild goose chase, in pursuit of nothing, this crazed king. Runs through high palatial rooms, past tall elegant windows. Raging cursewords for the pallid courtiers. His wife, the countess, very anxious to project aristocratic dignity as a head of state, is mortified.

... The king has fled down a wide sweeping staircase, pausing only to upset a marble bust, smash a stradivarius. Lunacy don't go down too well at court.

He bursts through double doors into the groundfloor ballroom where a dance is to take place. The ladies of the court are idly fanning themselves, the gentlemen stand graciously by. He run past rows of liveried footmen, solemn-faced, unseeing.

At one end of the hall stands the King's consort and their little daughter, the princess.

"Fetch me peace-juice and gin! It's good for the constitution... keeps the skin pliable... don't keep me starving!" he addresses a nearby footman.

The King sweaty-faced interrupts his ravings when he catches sight of his little daughter. A taciturn and gloomy child, she merely watches, uncomprehending and a little frightened.

The King, wretched, exhausted from his flight around the house, lets out an "Ah, my dear, my little cherub, my delight!..." He approaches her pityingly, displaying something like a parody of fatherly concern, the trapped agony of hysteria still in his eye...

He gently caresses her cheek with his knuckles, cooing at her sorrowfully. "I hear you're mad, my dear" says the King. "Are you? Are you mad, dear one?"... a particular loneliness in his voice.

The princess merely gazes sorrowfully into his eyes. "No, sir" she meekly replies.

(It seems that children understand madness).