The Jubilee Asylum

King George III’s Golden Jubilee in 1809 was remarkable not only for the wide geographical scope – every area of the British Isles hosted some sort of festivity – but also because every event was locally organised. There does not seem to have been a hint of intervention from central government. It was an example of localism writ large in an age when speedy communication was measured in the single figures of horsepower not megabytes.

General discussion about the king’s jubilee began in the national press in the summer of 1809. There was some debate about exactly when and how the jubilee should be observed, because according to the Bible, a jubilee should be observed every 49 years, with the 50th year proclaimed sacred for reflection and forgiveness of debts and sins. The Grand National Jubilee of 1809 was observed for one day, on 25 October 1809, as George III entered the 50th year of his reign and the Biblical sentiments were observed by pardoning debtors, deserters and prisoners, and seeking ways to alleviate the suffering of the less fortunate.

In the letters column of The Times and The Gentleman’s Magazine, correspondents wondered whether the cost of illuminating buildings as part of the celebration might not be better spent on poor relief. On October 5, a minister of religion, urged the bishopric to guide their flocks towards ‘a sensible recommendation of public worship, public subscriptions and private acts of devotion, as far more appropriate to the occasion than the tumult, the riot and excess’ proposed by the secular authorities.

A rather alarmist letter published on 21 October 1809, signed by ONE WHO WILL ENJOY THE JUBILEE RATIONALLY, believed that illuminating windows ‘will be the signal for a mob to commence their lawless sport of demolishing windows’.

Courtesy of www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk

My favourite suggestion comes from the Morning Chronicle of 22 September 1809, which advised the establishment of a public subscription in every county to fund the construction of an asylum ‘to enable the poor, the old and the helpless . . . to commemorate the blessings of a reign which has made the people of great Britain so happy’.

It was an entirely laudable and well-meaning suggestion, although the author may have lost the sympathy of his female readers before the end of the first paragraph.

The king was 71 at the time of his jubilee, so the writer symbolically used that as the age of entry for men. And as he had been on the throne for 50 years this somehow seemed the logical age at which to admit women, especially because ‘at that period all women have lost the bloom of beauty’.  Logically, therefore, they should be locked up, with nothing much to look forward to except ‘a good dinner and a drink’ twice a year on the king’s birthday and the anniversary of his accession.