The colour of madness

Michael Owen, Evening Standard, November 22 1991

IN THE calm, eminently reasonable tones which he deploys as much offstage as in his celebrated TV creation of Sir Humphrey Appleby, Nigel Hawthorne explained: "You see, the tragic thing is, in the way Alan has written the play, that the king knew he was not mad, and desperately wanted to stop what was happening to him."

In a sentence, he had sliced to the heart of a new play opening at the National Theatre as the most eagerly awaited production of the winter.

The title is The Madness of George III, the author is Alan Bennett, the director is Nicholas Hytner and Mr Hawthorne occupies the lead role.

The prospect of that combination of subject and talent creating a laughter-strewn evening in the company of England's craziest king has more than whetted appetites in advance of Thursday's first night

But as the actor can now reveal, that is only half the story. Alan Bennett's burrowing researches have lighted on medical theory not published until the 1960s that George III was, in fact, not insane but suffering from a genetic disease called porphyria. It took its name from the Greek word for purple - porphura.

"A suitably royal colour," smiled Hawthorne, "but the connection was that the patient peed purple. The disease apparently ran right through the royal family from Mary, Queen of Scots, through James I and George III and only petered out about 100 years ago.

"Poor old George had a really severe case. The symptoms included speaking at a phenomenal speed and not being able to stop, his skin was hypersensitive and painful to the touch, he became incontinent and then blind.

"The doctors who treated him just wanted to keep themselves in business. He was subjected to the most in-human blisterings and bleedings, vomitings and purges. He was manhandled and constrained in a strailjacket and also a chair with straps. And, from his first crisis with the disease, he lived like this for the best part of 40 years."

In the finery of his fur-collared robe, breeches, waistcoat and sash, Mr Hawthorne has to find the sort of performance which has not been required of him previously.

"I spend a lot of time wandering around in my dressing gown babbling incoherent rubbish. It's actually very difficult to talk in a different rhythm on a different subject to everything that is going on round you."

He accepted the part without reading the script. "Coming from Alan Bennett, that was enough for me. When I did read it, I liked it enormously. it is a hugely compassionate play, the comparisons with King Lear are everywhere. George identified very much with King Lear and his last words are said to be, 'Poor Tom's a-cold'.

"It's also very funny. I'm sure there will be a lot of laughter but I doubt it will be at the king's expense. It's from the situation, the court, the politicians and some very peculiar doctors."

HYTNER'S production on the Lyttelton stage will have grandeur and a big cast. As well as contending with the disease and its treatment, George III was confronted with a revolution in neighbouring France, his own throne was in danger of slipping away and the government was breaking up. Pitt the Elder was certifiably mad and Pitt the Younger was an alcoholic on 10 bottles of wine a day.

"All in all, it was a fairly busy time for him," said Mr Hawthorne, with neat understatement, then added more pertinently: "I thought Shadowlands was an emotional play but this is something else."

Shadowlands was the actor's hit play of last year, when he and Jane Lapotaire wrenched copious tears from the audience in the doomed story of C S Lewis and poet Joy Davidman, and also the reason why he disappeared for most of this year.

He took the play to Broadway and, in the face of the War, the recession and a dismissive review from the all-powerful Frank Rich, steered it with Jane Alexander to a successful six-month run and was rewarded with a best actor Tony Award.

"I was pleased the play found its audience and established a following, largely through word of mouth. I received sheaves of letters, which was very nice, but the Tony Awards ceremony was a bit bizarre.

It was full of famous people who obviously had not been to the theatre all year, poor old Anthony Quinn got in a dreadful mess, calling Joan Collins June Collins, and I got trapped in a lift with Carol Channing who kept kissing me when she clearly did not have the faintest idea who I was."

He returned to the sanctuary of his Hertfordshire home and garden with every intention of taking an extended rest but within a fortnight was in front of the cameras. He played the prosecuting counsel in the TV re-creation of the Oz trial.

When his Yes, Minister! success was at its height, Hawthorne, now in his late fifties, seriously considered abandoning the theatre for good. "Theatre is so demanding, so tiring, and I'm not getting any younger. I thought if I could make a happy living with television and films I would not have to do any theatre.

"Then I did a play with Glenda Jackson and, though it wasn't terribly successful, I got the bug again. The range of parts I've had since has been beyond any expectation. I'd be crazy to opt for cameras when there is such fulfilling work like this on stage."