He’s the guy from Hamilton spitting on his subjects. Or he’s the "Mad King" who talked to trees. For most of us, British King George III is a caricature—a bumbling villain who lost America and then lost his mind.
But history is rarely that tidy.
If you actually look at the journals of his contemporaries or the 200,000 pages of the Georgian Papers recently digitized by King’s College London, a very different man emerges. George III wasn't some bloodthirsty tyrant. Honestly, he was a bit of a nerd. He loved clocks, agriculture, and his wife. He was the first British monarch to actually study science. Yet, we remember him for two things: losing the colonies and the purple urine.
Why We Misunderstand the American Revolution
The Declaration of Independence calls him a prince "whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant."
Thomas Jefferson was a great writer, but he was also a master of PR. He needed a villain. In reality, British King George III was a constitutional monarch who rarely acted without the consent of Parliament. He didn't even want the war. By 1775, he felt he had a legal obligation to protect the integrity of the Empire. If he let the colonies go without a fight, what would happen to the rest?
He was stuck.
Unlike his predecessors, George III was born in England and spoke English as his first language. He was deeply committed to the British system. When the war finally ended, he didn't hold a grudge. When John Adams arrived as the first American ambassador in 1785, George told him, "I was the last to consent to the separation; but the separation having been made and having become inevitable, I have always said, as I say now, that I would be the first to meet the friendship of the United States as an independent power."
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That’s not the dialogue of a raving lunatic. That’s a pragmatist.
The Mystery of the "Madness"
For decades, the medical community was convinced they had the answer: Porphyria. This is a genetic blood disorder that can cause abdominal pain, limb weakness, and, famously, blue or purple urine. It was the "official" explanation popularized by Ida Macalpine and Richard Hunter in the 1960s.
It was a neat theory. Too neat, maybe.
Recent research, including a 2013 study by St George's, University of London, suggests we were wrong. By using linguistic analysis on the King’s letters written during his "manic" episodes, researchers found his sentence structure and vocabulary shifted in ways consistent with the manic phase of bipolar disorder.
During these episodes, he would talk until he literally foamed at the mouth. He would write sentences that were 400 words long with almost no punctuation.
What life was like at Kew
Imagine being the most powerful man in the world and being forced into a straitjacket. That was George’s reality during his four major bouts of illness. His doctors—if you can even call them that—used "treatments" that were basically torture. Dr. Francis Willis, who became famous for "curing" the King in 1789, used blistering agents and physical restraints.
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The King hated it.
He was terrified of his own mind. Imagine the internal horror of knowing your sanity is slipping while your ministers are fighting over who gets to take your power. It’s a miracle he stayed as functional as he did for as long as he did.
Farmer George and the Enlightenment
While his mind was the headline, his hobbies were the heart of his life. People called him "Farmer George" behind his back. It was meant to be an insult, mocking his obsession with crop rotation and livestock breeding.
George didn't care.
He actually contributed to Annals of Agriculture under the pseudonym Ralph Robinson. He founded the Royal Academy of Arts. He spent a fortune on his library, which eventually became the core of the British Library’s collection. He was a man of the Enlightenment living in a body that was failing him.
He was also remarkably devoted to his wife, Queen Charlotte. In an era where royal mistresses were the norm, George remained faithful. They had 15 children. Think about that for a second. That is a massive household to manage while also trying to navigate the French Revolution and the rise of Napoleon.
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The Long Decline and the Regency
The end wasn't pretty.
By 1810, the King was blind from cataracts and likely suffering from dementia on top of his existing mental health issues. The death of his youngest and favorite daughter, Princess Amelia, was the final blow. He never recovered. His son, the future George IV, took over as Prince Regent in 1811.
George III lived out his final decade in Windsor Castle. He didn't know he was King. He didn't know his wife had died in 1818. He spent his days talking to people who weren't there and playing the harpsichord. He was a ghost in his own palace.
When he died in 1820, he had reigned for 59 years. Only Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth II would eventually surpass him.
What We Can Learn from George III Today
History isn't a comic book. There are no pure villains. British King George III was a man who tried to be a "Good King" in a world that was rapidly outgrowing the very idea of monarchy.
If you want to understand him better, don't just watch a movie.
- Visit the Georgian Papers Programme online. You can read his actual handwriting. It’s messy, frantic, and deeply human.
- Look at his botanical contributions. The Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew exist largely because of his and Charlotte’s patronage.
- Re-read the American Revolution through a global lens. It wasn't just about tea; it was a global power struggle where George was one of many moving pieces.
Understanding George III requires looking past the "madness" and seeing the intellectual, the father, and the man caught between the medieval past and the modern future.
To truly grasp the legacy of this era, the next step is exploring the archives of his personal correspondence. These documents reveal a man who was deeply concerned with the moral implications of his rule, often agonizing over the smallest details of governance. By examining these primary sources, you move beyond the caricatures and enter the actual mind of the man who sat on the throne during the birth of the modern world. Look into the work of historians like Andrew Roberts, whose biography The Last King of America offers a meticulously researched defense of George's character and political intelligence. Reframing the 18th century starts with recognizing that the "Mad King" was often the most rational man in the room, until his biology betrayed him.