Sweet lass of Richmond Hill

Family Conflict

The Prince was happy. He was seen everywhere with Mrs. Fitzherbert. Whispers circulated throughout the Court and the Town—Are they married? Or is she his mistress? It was obvious from the Prince's manner that either one or the other of these conditions were true. If anyone wished to entertain the Prince of Wales they must entertain Mrs. Fitzherbert also. If there was no invitation for the lady, then the Prince of Wales regretfully declined. He would dance with no other but Mrs. Fitzherbert; he must be placed next to her at table; and after each ball, banquet or evening engagement he could be heard saying to her with the utmost gallantry: "Madam, may I have the honour of seeing you home in my carriage?"

She did not take up her residence in Carlton House, but continued to live at Richmond and in Park Street-. She was, however, constantly in the company of the Prince of Wales, and the change in him was remarkable. He was extremely affable to everyone; he was constantly bursting into song; he moderated his language and rarely used a coarse expression; he drank less; he liked to retire early on some evenings. He was undoubtedly a newly married husband deeply in love with his wife and domesticity.

He took a box at the Opera for her and was frequently seen with her in it; they rode together in the Park. His habits had changed considerably; he no longer sought the company of others. Mrs. Fitzherbert was all he asked.

The friendship with Charles James Fox had clearly weakened. There had been a time when he had been constantly in that man's company, had accepted his news, laughed heartily at his wit and called him his greatest friend. But Mrs. Fitzherbert was inclined to view the politician with disfavour.

"He is both coarse and unclean" she commented; and there was a distinct coolness between them.

" He is a brilliant fellow" the Prince told her. "My love, I think you would enjoy his conversation."

"He is undoubtedly very witty and a brilliant conversationalist, and I am sure a very clever politician," agreed Maria, "but he certainly does not change his linen often enough and his wit is inclined to be cruel."

"Everyone cannot be like my angel," commented the Prince.

"Who likes only those who are worthy to be the friends of hers"

The Prince was enchanted by that reply and began to feel less friendly towards Fox from that moment, and when he remembered that Fox had tried to prevent the marriage he felt some resentment. How dare Fox preach to him! Fox who had led just about the most immoral life any man could lead! But Fox had not preached. He had only pointed out the facts—and they were true enough. All the same, much as he respected Fox, he did not want to see him. To tell the truth he wanted no one but Maria.

He walked into Maria's drawing room where she received him with open arms and a demeanour which was almost regal. What a queen she would make! If he could make her so. Why not? When the old man died he would alter that Marriage Act with a stroke of the pen. He would have powerful ministers behind him. Fox! There he was back at Fox. No matter! His Maria was beautiful, worthy in every way to be a queen. He told her so.

"But this place is not good enough for my dearest"

"My darling, it is ideal for me"

"No, no, Maria. I want to see you in a setting worthy of you."

"Settings arc unimportant."

"Of course. What setting docs the brightest jewel in the kingdom need? You don't need it, my precious love; but you should have it. I see you in a white and gilded drawing room with Chinese silk lining the walls."

"It sounds like Carlton House," she said with a laugh.

"But this shall be yours. And there we shall entertain. You must admit, my dearest Maria, that this place is a trifle small."

"It is big enough for the two of us. I care only to entertain you."

He embraced her and wept on that wonderful bosom, so soft, so voluptuous yet so maternal. Oh, Maria, perfect woman, with all the attributes, everything that he needed to make him happy!

"Why ... real tears," she said, stroking his frizzed hair.

"Tears of joy," he cried. "Tears of wonder and gratitude. What have I done to deserve you, Maria? Tell me that."

"You have been good and kind to me, faithful to me, you have sacrificed much for me ..."

He lay against her listening. It was true.

I'd crowns resign To call thee mine .. "

But it had not been necessary to resign the Crown. This sort of marriage did not interfere with the succession in the least. It was a secret marriage, a morganatic marriage, if one cared to call it that. And it was secret; therefore what harm could come of it? As soon as he was the King he would get the Act repealed and marry Maria; and any children they might have before that happy event would be legitimized. It was really very simple. He could not imagine why there had had to be the fuss.

So now listening to Maria enumerating his virtues he was very happy indeed.

But she must entertain now and then, and since whenever she entertained he would be present, she must have a worthy establishment in which to do it.

"Lord Uxbridge's place in St. James's Square is to let," he told her.

"My dear, dear George, you cannot mean that I should take such a place?"

"But why not. It's reasonably habitable."

She threw back her head and laughed. The most musical laugh in the world, he thought, raising his head to kiss her throat before settling down once more on that magnificent bosom.

"Well?" he said.

"Far, far too expensive for me. It would cost all of three thousand a year to maintain it."

"That does not sound a very large sum."

"Not to you, my extravagant Prince. To me it is one thousand more than my income."

"Your Prince is not without intelligence, you know."

"Indeed I know that he possesses that very useful asset in abundance"

"Then..."

"Then what, my dearest?"

"Supposing you to have an income of six thousand a year, that intelligence tells me that you would not then find Uxbridge's place too expensive."

"The logical answer to that is that I have not an income of six thousand a year."

"And the logical answer to that is that you shall have."

"Listen to me. I have no intention of taking an income from you"

"Why not?"

"It is unnecessary. I have consideted myself very comfortably placed. I have two fine houses ... well, fine enough for me ... but then I do not judge them by royal standards"

"But you now have raised your standards, my love ... my queen ..."

She smiled tenderly. "Fine houses ... jewellery ... these gifts which you are constantly trying to bestow on me are of no importance. What matters is that we are together, not where.

"I know it. I know it. But I wish you to have everything that is worthy of you and that is the best in the world. I want you to have Uxbridge's House. I will pay the rent and with your six thousand a year you will, I know, keep the creditors at bay"

"Six thousand!" she cried. "But my dearest, what of your creditors."

"Money! Other things are far more important. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, that is why I suggest that I continue as I am here in Park Street and that no new expenses are incurred on my account."

But the Prince was determined. "This house," he said, "was Mr. Fitzherbert's. Is he to be allowed to present you with a house and I not?"

That was a different argument and Maria was perplexed. After that it took very little persuasion to make her agree.

"The truth is," said the Prince roguishly, "I have already told Uxbridge that we are taking it."

"Of course the Prince married her," said some of the gossips. "She would never have succumbed otherwise."

"He can't have married her," said others. "It would be illegal. What of the Marriage Act? She is his mistress. She was only holding out to make him the more eager."

Whichever theory was supported there was no doubt that the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert were lovers; and everyone watched them with interest.

The gossip reached Windsor. Madam von Schwellenburg who considered herself head of the Queen's household—and was in fact the most disliked member of it—muttered to herself as she went about her apartments feeding the toads which she kept in cages about her room. Her little pets she called them; and she was far more gracious to them than she was to the maids of honour who were under her sway.

"Herr Prince vos up to no goot," she told the toads. She had come to England with the Queen twenty-six years before but had never bothered to learn English properly. She despised the English, hated their country, so she said; and was furious when attempts had been made to send her back to Germany. "Dis is vere I lifs," she had said, "and dis is vere I stays. Novon villen me move." But she showed her dislike for the country, to which she flung, in every way and it was apparent in her atrocious rendering of the language.

She disliked everyone except the Queen, whom she looked upon as her charge. Charlotte herself did not like the woman but kept her with her from habit. In the first place, when her mother-in-law, Augusta the Dowager Princess of Wales, had tried to get rid of Schwellenburg soon after Charlotte's arrival, she had clung to the woman on a matter of principle. But there were times when she wished her back in Germany.

So Schwellenburg had grown old in the Queen's service and none the more attractive for that. She disliked the King and the Queen's children; she disliked everyone and everything except herself, the Queen and her toads. She delighted in the misdeeds of the Princes and the gossip concerning the Prince of Wales was in particular a great joy to her.

"Herr Prince von bad vicked," she told her favourite toad, the one who croaked the loudest when she tapped his cage with her snuff box. "Has vedded von bad voman."

She had seen that the cartoons in the papers were brought to the Queen's attention by setting them out with the appropriate pages in evidence on the royal dressing table. She had tried to tell the Queen about the rumours, but the Queen had shrugged them aside.

"There are always these stories about royal people, Schwellenburg."

"Of veddings?" asked Schwellenburg maliciously. "Dis vomen ist von Cadolic. Von bad ding."

"It is of no importance, Schwellenburg. I have heard that the lady whose name is being coupled with the Prince's is a very virtuous one. I am sure it is quite a pleasant relationship."

"Like Vilhelm vis Portsmod Sarah."

Really the woman was intolerable. "Go and attend to your toads, Schwellenburg. I no longer need your services"

The very mention of her toads made Schwellenburg forget everything else, and the Queen was delighted to be alone.

It was a different matter when Lady Harcourt spoke to her. Lady Harcourt was a trusted friend. Charlotte was very fond of the Harcourt family, for it was Lord Harcourt, the present Lady Harcourt's father-in-law, who had come to Strelitz all those years ago to arrange for her marriage to George, who was then the Prince of Wales. She could trust Lady Harcourt and had only a year or so before appointed her a Lady of the Bedchamber. To Lady Harcourt as to no other could she confide her innermost thoughts; it was a great comfort to have such a friend.

Lady Harcourt said, when they were sitting together with their knotting in their hands: "Your Majesty, I am distressed about the rumours ... and I have hesitated whether or not I should speak to you about them."

"My dear, you know you may speak to me on any subject you think fit."

"But I did not wish to add to your anxieties."

"Have you heard something dreadful?"

"It is alarming."

"About William? That was a distressing affair. I do hope he is behaving sensibly. The King has sent him to Plymouth, but he may well take it into his reckless head to go back to Portsmouth. What a trial one's children are."

"I was not thinking of His Highness Prince William but ... of the Prince of Wales."

The Queen's fingers faltered on her knotting.

"You have heard something ... fresh?"

"I do not think it is fresh, but it is so ... persistent. I greatly fear that there may be some truth in the rumour."

"What is the rumour?"

"That he is married to this woman, Mrs. Fitzherbert."

"I have heard that rumour. It is simply not possible. How could he be married to her? It is against the law. The Royal Marriage Act forbids any member of the family to marry without the King's consent."

"But, Your Majesty, that need not prevent the Prince's doing so."

The Queen said piteously: "Oh, my dear Lady Harcourt, what have we done—the King and I—to be so plagued by our sons."

"They are young men, Your Majesty ... lusty young men. They wish for independence."

"He is the heir to the throne. He could not be so foolish."

"He is undoubtedly in love with this woman, and the Prince when he does anything does it wholeheartedly. He is, I have heard, wholeheartedly in love with Mrs. Fitzherbert."

"But I have heard that she is a good and virtuous woman. She would never allow this."

"It is because she is a virtuous woman, Your Majesty, that it has happened."

The Queen was silent for a while and then she said: "What can I do?"

"Should Your Majesty not speak to the King?"

Charlotte turned to her friend. "I can say this to you though I would say it to no other. I am afraid ... for the King."

Lady Harcourt nodded.

"This affair of William and the Portsmouth girl. It has upset him more than the Court knows. I have heard him talking ... talking endlessly at night. He ... he rambles. He goes on and on... and sometimes I do not know what he is saying. He has grown very melancholy. He talks of his sons and how he has failed with them, how the Prince of Wales hates him, how William flouts him."

"Has he been bled and purged?"

"Constantly. Far more than is generally known. I dare not speak to him at this time of this affair"

"It may not be true," said Lady Harcourt.

"No," replied the Queen gratefully. "It may not be true. But I think we should know whether it is or not."

Lady Harcourt nodded.

"If it were true," said the Queen, "it could imperil the succession; it could shake the throne. I could not tell the King in his present state of health."

"Your Majesty is the Prince's mother. Perhaps you could yourself see him ... find out if this rumour is true. He would not lie to you if you asked him for a direct answer."

"I will do it," said the Queen. "But my dear Lady Harcourt, should it be true, I tremble to contemplate the effect it would have on the King."

"Perhaps Your Majesty could keep it from the King ... until he is recovered."

The Queen smiled brightly. It was a pleasant idea; but she knew in her heart that he never would recover. She laid her hand momentarily over that of Lady Harcourt.

"It is good to talk ... with friends," she said. "I will summon him to Windsor and demand he tell me the truth."

On receiving the Queen's request that he should come to Windsor to see her, the Prince drove down from Carlton House in his phaeton.

The Queen was moved when she saw him—so elegant in his dark blue coat, his silk cravat and the diamond star glittering on his left breast. He towered above her. How handsome he is! she thought. If he would only kneel at her feet and beg her to intercede for him with the King as William had ! But of course he did no such thing. He stood before her, arrogant, caring nothing for her and showing by his manner that he quite clearly had no love for her. Her mood changed, for since he would not let her love him, her feelings were so strong that they bordered on hatred. She had never felt this strong emotion towards any of the others—it was only for George, her adored first-born whom she had worshipped in the first years of his life.

"You wished to see me, Madam." His voice was cold containing no affectionate greeting, but merely implying: Come let us get this business finished so that I can get away.

"I have heard rumours," said the Queen, "rumours which greatly disturb me."

"Yes, Madam?"

"Concerning you and a lady named Mrs. Fitzherbert."

"Indeed?"

"Rumours," continued the Queen, "that you have married the lady. Of course I know this to be an impossibility but..."

"Why an impossibility, Madam? I am capable of going through a marriage ceremony."

"I did not doubt it, but you would not be so foolish ... or so wicked ... as to deceive a lady of good character into believing that it was possible for you to marry her."

It was the wrong approach. She had seen that when his face flushed angrily.

"Madam, I am married to a lady whom I love and honour above all other people."

"Married! You are certainly not married."

"I should have thought, Madam, that I was the best judge of that."

"Evidently you are not if you can delude yourself into thinking you are this woman's husband. It is quite impossible for you to be. Have you never heard of the Marriage Act?"

"I have heard so much of that criminal measure that I never want to hear of it again. In fact my first act when I mount the throne will be to repeal it."

She stared at him aghast. How could he talk so? And the King was only forty-eight years old—a comparatively young man. One would think his father was in his dotage. She shuddered.

"Please do not talk in that way. I am not sure that it is not ... treachery."

The Prince laughed. "Madam, I thought the reason why I am treated like an imbecile or an infant in the nursery was because it was well known that I should one day be king. Is one supposed not to mention this fact as though it were something shameful?"

"The King is still a young man."

"He looks and behaves like an old one, so you cannot blame people for thinking of him as such. But you asked me here because you had heard rumours that I was married. Well, I tell you that I am, that the lady I have married is worthy to be the Queen of England; she will not disgrace your drawing room"

The Queen burst out: "She will never have an opportunity of proving that."

"So you will not receive her at Court?"

"Certainly I shall not."

"Why not? Why not?"

"Because I do not receive my son's ... mistresses ... in my drawing room."

"Madam, this is my wife."

"You know very well that cannot be. You may have gone through a form of marriage with her but she is not your wife.

And I repeat, I will not receive your mistress in my drawing room."

The Prince was white with anger. "Very well. But every other drawing room in London will think itself honoured to welcome her. And Madam, let me tell you this: your drawing room is as dull as a mausoleum and the conversation there about as lively as at a funeral gathering. In my drawing room, Madam, where the wittiest and most brilliant people of the country foregather, my wife will receive the honour due to her. So, let me inform Your Majesty that it will be no hardship to my wife that she is not received in the Queen's drawing room when she is the hostess in that of the Prince of Wales."

He gave a curt bow and walked briskly from the room.

The Queen stared after him, her heart heavy; her eyes blank with misery.

She thought of William's raging against his family in Plymouth, of the Prince of Wales in his glittering drawing room at Carlton House, doubtless making fun of his parents; and the King, growing more and more melancholy, talking to himself, addressing everyone with that repetitive rapidity which frightened her.

There was Frederick in Germany. Frederick had always been of a sunny nature. He had been devoted to the Prince of Wales in their childhood, of course, and the two of them had always been together ... loyal to each other, helping each other out of mischief.

He would be nearly twenty-three now.

Perhaps if Frederick came home there would be one son to comfort them. And it might well be that Frederick would be the future King of England, for would the people accept a King who refused to marry—for this marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert was no marriage in the eyes of the State, and when it came to State affairs it was the State that mattered—and had gone through a morganatic marriage with a Catholic.

Perhaps she could hint to the King at some time when he was in the right mood that perhaps it was time Frederick came home.

After the interview with the Queen nothing would satisfy the Prince than that Maria should be received in every drawing room in London—and not only received but treated as though she were Princess of Wales. Any hostess who did not immediately acknowledge her as such was ignored by the Prince and, as to be cut by the Prince of Wales was social suicide, the desired homage was paid to Maria.

She had seen that it was useless to protest against the extravagance of the young lover. He would come to her all excitement because he had a surprise for her. The surprise would be a "trinket'. A trinket indeed—a brooch, a necklace, a locket ... set with diamonds, sapphires or emeralds of which she would alarmingly calculate the cost as she expressed the delight which he expected. How could one tell a Prince of Wales that he must try to live within his means? He had no idea of money. He saw an ornament. It was beautiful. Then his Maria must have it.

She was alarmed by the extravagance of the entertainments she was obliged to give at Uxbridge House. It was not that she was in the least incapable of playing hostess. Entertaining as she had at Swynnerton with Mr. Fitzherbert had given her all the experience she required in that field; and she had a natural dignity and regality which was denied to people such as the Duchess of Cumberland.

When the Duke and Duchess of Cumberland returned from abroad they immediately were aware of the situation and the Duchess hastened to welcome Maria as her "dearest niece'. The Duke was equally effusive. Not only was this necessary to retain the friendship of the Prince of Wales but it also offered a good opportunity of flouting the King—and therefore it was quite irresistible.

So Maria entertained as the Prince wished while she counted the cost and confided in her companion, Miss Pigot, an old friend whom she had brought with her as chaperone and companion when she set up in Uxbridge House, her anxieties concerning the cost of it all.

"Dear Pigot," she said, "the Prince cannot understand how much happier I should be in Park Street ... or if he does not like me to be in that house since I inherited it from Mr. Fitzherbert, some smaller establishment."

"The dear Prince is so anxious that every honour shall be yours," replied Miss Pigot.

And Maria had to agree with her. How could she spoil his pleasure? He was such a boy—not yet twenty-four, and in his enthusiasms young for his age. She would be thirty in July. Six years. It was quite a difference at their ages. So she must remember his youth, and his enthusiasms were so enchanting, especially when they were all directed at giving her pleasure.

With the coming of the spring he said they must go down to Brighton. He wanted Maria to enjoy the place as much as he did. With him went the most brilliant section of London society and the inhabitants of the once obscure little fishing village came out to gape at the nobility. But most of all they gaped at the glittering Prince of Wales.

Nothing, said the people of Brighton, will ever be the same again.

The Prince took up residence in Grove House. This was the third year he had rented it; and Mrs. Fitzherbert took a house behind the Castle Inn—which was as close to Grove House as could be.

There were balls and banquets and the people would stand outside Grove House and the Assembly Rooms to watch the people through the windows. Ladies and gentlemen took to strolling through the streets in the warm evenings and the Prince would be there always with the same fair plump lady on his arm. They were a magnificent pair. Like a king and a queen, said the people of Brighton.

Every morning the Prince took his dip in the sea superintended by Smoker Miles, a strapping old sailor who was more at home in the water than on land. He was the autocrat of the bathing machines, and if he said no swimming that day there was no swimming. One morning the Prince of Wales came down as usual but old Smoker looked at him and shook his head.

"No, Mr. Prince," he said, "no bathing for you this morning."

"But I have decided to bathe this morning, Smoker," said the Prince."

"Oh, no you don't," retorted Smoker.

The Prince, amazed that anyone should so address him, attempted to brush the man aside, but Smoker set his great bulk between the Prince and the bathing machine and said: "No. You'll not bathe this morning, Mr. Prince."

"And who gives this order?"

"I do, Mr. Prince, and no matter what princes say I give orders here."

The Prince attempted to mount the steps into the machine, but Smoker caught him by the arm.

"Til be damned if you do," shouted Smoker. "What do you think your father would say to me if you were drowned, eh? He'd say: "This is all your fault, Smoker," he'd say. "If you'd taken proper care of him, poor George would be alive today."

" The thought of the King so addressing Smoker made the Prince roar with laughter. Smoker looked hurt.

"It's true what I say," he said. "And I'm not having the King of England tell me I don't know my duty. This sea don't behave for anyone ... not even the Prince of Wales."

"Not even for the King of Brighton?" asked the Prince.

"You mean me, Mr. Prince. Ho, that's good that is. The King of Brighton."

Smoker clearly liked the title and the Prince bowed to him ironically. "I am merely a prince and irksome as it is princes often have to obey the will of kings."

Smoker repeated the story often and was soon known as the King of Brighton; and more and more people came down to the sea to be dipped or watched over by King Smoker.

Maria bathed on the ladies side of the Steyne under the care of old Martha Gunn, the big strong woman who was the female counterpart of Smoker.

Those were happy days in Brighton.

The Prince said to Maria as they strolled along by the sea in the cool of the evening: "Grove House is a poor sort of place and I should like to build a house for myself here. Don't you agree, my dearest, that that would be a very excellent idea?"

Maria, who had by this time realized the futility of trying to curb his extravagance, agreed.

Then a most unprecedented incident occurred.

Returning to Carlton House from Brighton he found strangers seated in his hall and his servants bewildered and uncertain how to explain to him. It was the strangers themselves who had to do that.

"Your Highness's pardon, sir, but if you will settle this little matter of £600 we'll go quiet as lambs. No disrespect to Your Highness, sir. It's just orders, sir ... all in the matter of business."

The Prince was aghast.

The bailiffs had come to Carlton House.

The Prince immediately went to see his friend, Sheridan. It was true since his marriage he had neglected his friends, but he knew that he could trust Sheridan to help him. Charles too, but he hesitated to go to him since Maria had driven a wedge between them.

Sheridan received the Prince in his house at Bruton Street with expressions of pleasure.

"Sherry, I am in the most extraordinary and humiliating dilemma."

"Your Highness?"

"The bailiffs are in Carlton House. And all for a paltry £600. Sherry, what am I to do?"

"But Your Highness, who will deny you £600 should you ask for it? I can think of a thousand people who would willingly give it."

"You, my dear friend?"

"Your Highness knows that all I have is at your service but I doubt whether I could lay my hands on £600. I myself am expecting a visit from your intruders on any day now. But Your Highness should have no difficulty. Why, there is your uncle, Cumberland, who would be only too honoured."

"He calls me Taffy. And I don't greatly care to be under an obligation to him."

"But what of Georgiana? Or the Duke of Bedford? There are a score of them."

The Prince agreed. "But it is undoubtedly humiliating when one must borrow from one's friends, Sherry."

Sherry agreed, but he also pointed out that the bailiffs must be ejected as soon as possible.

He was right. There were many eager to lend the Prince of Wales £600 for the purpose; but when the matter was settled and Sheridan returned with the Prince of Wales to Carlton House and they sat drinking together, Sheridan said: "Your Highness's debts should be settled. This situation may well occur again; and as Your Highness pointed out it is a humiliating position for a Prince of Wales to find himself in."

The Prince nodded and looked expectantly at Sheridan. He was very fond of Sherry, who was so charming and handsome, although beginning to look a little jaded. When he had first met him, only a few years ago at the time he was involved with Perdita, Sheridan had not been the politician he was today—merely manager of Drury Lane. But he had had an enviable reputation, having made his name with The Rivals and The School for Scandal. They had been a trio—he, Fox and Sheridan; and Burke was a friend of theirs too. How he had valued those friendships! And how he had delighted in their wit and erudition! They had stood together for the Whigs. Those were good old days, but the coming of Maria had changed them. For one thing he was too devoted to Maria to have as much time as he had had in the past for his old friends, and Maria's definite antagonism to Fox had affected the Prince's feelings.

But now Sheridan was an influential politician and such a close associate of Fox that the Prince's diminishing affection for the latter seemed to touch Sheridan too.

Yet on this day when he had gone to Sheridan for help, he felt as affectionate towards him as he ever had.

Sheridan looked into his glass and said: "It must be ended ... with all speed."

"How so?"

"Does Your Highness know the extent of your debts?"

"I have no idea, Sherry, and the calculation of them would so depress me that I have put off making it."

"Parliament should settle them."

"Is it possible?"

"It would not be the first time."

" No, and I am really kept very short."

"I think it should be talked over with Fox." The Prince nodded gloomily. It seemed now as always that he could not manage without Fox's help.

When Maria heard that the bailiffs had been to Carlton House she was aghast.

"My darling, what are you going to do?" she demanded.

"Oh, it will be settled, never fear."

"But, dearest, we will have to consider in future. You spend far too much on me."

"I could never spend too much on you."

"I should be most unhappy to be an encumbrance."

"The most delightful encumbrance in the world," he assured her.

"But, my dearest, what are you going to do?'.

"Fox is coming to see me. You can trust that wily old fellow to come up with the answer."

"Fox." Her long aquiline nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Dearest, I know you don't like him but he'll know what should be done."

"May I be there when you speak to him?"

The Prince hesitated, but she looked so appealing that he agreed.

Thus when Fox came with Sheridan to discuss the Prince's debts he found Maria present.

"Maria is fully aware of the situation," explained the Prince.

Fox bowed and Maria returned his greeting coolly. Sheridan she accepted more graciously. She thought he was a bad influence for the Prince because he was a drinker and a gambler and had numerous affairs with women, but he was at least clean and so more tolerable.

"Maria thinks the debts must be paid at once," said the Prince, looking at her fondly. "She has been lecturing me on my extravagance and says that at the earliest possible moment my creditors must be paid and economies made."

"A view," said Fox, "with which I am in entire agreement."

The Prince smiled from one to the other rather wistfully. He would have liked them to be good friends—these two whom he loved more than any other human beings.

"The question," put in Sheridan, "is how?"

"Has Your Highness a rough estimate of the amount?" asked Fox.

The Prince thought that somewhere in the neighbourhood of £250,000 might see him through.

Fox was taken aback. It was a very large sum.

"There are two alternatives," he said. Tour Highness can either approach the King or the Parliament."

"Neither appeals," replied the Prince. "The Parliament means Pitt—and he has never been a friend of mine. And the idea of going to my father and asking him for money is completely repulsive to me."

"It may be the only answer," warned Fox.

"He'll crow. He'll jeer. Eh, what? What? You've no idea what an old fool he has become in the heart of his family. I would do a great deal to avoid going to him and begging for his help.

"That leaves Parliament."

"And Mr. Pitt."

"It's worth a try," said Sheridan.

And so it was agreed.

When Pitt received the request to settle the Prince's debts, he decided that he would do nothing about it.

Why should his Ministry help support a young man who was clearly the tool of the Opposition? The Prince was extravagant. Very well, let the public know how extravagant he was, but that was no concern of Mr. Pitt and his Ministry.

To tell the Prince of Wales—who might very well be King at any time—that he would do nothing to help him would have been a foolish and reckless act; and Mr. Pitt though a young man could not be accused of folly or recklessness.

He prevaricated; he asked for details; he shelved the matter for a few days, a few weeks. It was a large sum of money, he pointed out. It was a matter which could not be settled overnight.

Meanwhile the creditors were growing impatient, and the Prince fearing that the bailiffs might return to Carlton House, went again to Fox.

"There is no help for it," said Fox. "Your Highness will have to ask the King. After all, it is your due. Your allowance is not large enough. As Prince of Wales you are not expected to live like a pauper."

So the Prince wrote to the King telling him that he had debts and that a sum of £250,000 would cover them.

The King replied that he was considering the matter. Nothing happened for a few weeks; then the Prince wrote again.

The Prince must understand, replied the King, that before the money could be advanced to him, it must be known how it was spent. There was one item for £54,000. What could have been the reason for spending such a large unspecified sum?

The money had been spent on furniture, plate and jewellery which the Prince had insisted on giving Maria and he was not going to give the King details of that.

The King wrote a curt note that he would not pay the Prince's debts nor would he give his sanction to an increase in his son's allowance.

When the Prince received this letter he was so angry, realizing now that all the time neither the King nor Pitt had any intention of paying his debts, that he declared he would make his own arrangements. He would shut up Carlton House; he would live like a private gentleman and he would pay £40,000 a year out of his allowance to his creditors. And the country should know how he was treated by his father and his father's Government.

When the King received this letter from the Prince he was disturbed. If the Prince shut up Carlton House the people would soon know it. It was not becoming for a Prince of Wales to live like a private gentleman. The people had always been on the Prince's side; they would be so now; particularly as the King himself had had debts which the Parliament had had to settle.

He summoned Pitt to ask his advice.

Pitt read the letters and did not like the tone of them.

"It would not be good," he said, "for the Prince to become a martyr."

"I agree," replied the King; "I will write to him without delay and let him know that I have not given him an absolute refusal."

"I think that an excellent idea, Your Majesty," said Pitt. "I suppose these debts should be paid, but at the same time His Highness should be made to realize that Your Majesty's Government does not look with pleasure on his extravagant way of life."

"He shall be made to understand that, Mr. Pitt, I promise you."

When Pitt had left the King immediately wrote to the Prince. He had not made a complete refusal, he explained, but if the Prince proposed taking any rash steps he should remember that he himself would be the one who would be obliged to take the consequences of them.

On receiving his father's letter the Prince cried: "Very well. I'll show him."

Maria was with him. She was delighted by his resolution and that made him all the more determined.

"You are right," she cried. "I know you are right."

She did not realize, dear Maria, that nothing could have put the King into a more unfortunate position; to her it was just a matter of economy.

"I shall sell all my horses," he told her. "I shall shut up Carlton House, except a few rooms. You and I will go down to Brighton. It is cheaper living there. By God, I can imagine my father's pique when he hears I have put up my horses and carriages for sale. And I shall do so ... publicly. It is time everyone knew how I am treated."

Fox was gleeful.

"This," he declared to Sheridan, "will be a defeat for the King and Pitt. We must see that everyone views it in that light. If the Prince suggested going abroad for a spell for the sake of economy it would do no harm. My God, this is going to make old George wish he had paid young George's debts. Depend upon it, he will try to do so now. But we don't really want him to ... not yet."

Fox was very merry. Oh, clever Mr. Pitt, who had prevaricated a little too long. Oh, stupid old George, who did not realize that the people were asking themselves and each other why it was that he quarrelled with all his family.

Fox set his writers working on their pamphlets and cartoons. "We must make the most of the situation, Sherry," he said. "A little discomfort won't hurt young George. In fact, I believe he is enjoying it."

And so it seemed. The Prince of Wales, like other members of the royal family, was finding the game of baiting the King highly diverting.

In the coffee houses people talked about the quarrel between the Prince and the King; it had taken the place of the Fitzherbert affair. What an amusing and fascinating personality they had in the Prince of Wales! There was always some excitement going on about him. God bless the Prince of Wales, cried the people. As for the King, he was an old bore, he and his fertile Charlotte. The Prince and his Maria Fitzherbert were more pleasant to look at and their story was so romantic.

Fox and his friends talked of the impossibility of the King to get along with any member of the royal family. He had quarrelled with his brothers, Gloucester and Cumberland, because of their marriages. Was it not time the bones of those old skeletons stopped rattling? Gloucester was forced to live in Florence because he found it undignified that his wife, a royal duchess, should not be received at Court; the Cumberlands were not received cither because they had married without the King's consent. Prince Frederick, Duke of York, was in Hanover learning to be a soldier (the King did not think the English Army good enough for his sons), William was at sea, Edward was in Geneva, and the younger Princes were to be sent to Gottingen because the King did not consider the standard of Oxford and Cambridge as high as that of the German university.

What a ridiculous old man this king of theirs was! No wonder his family quarrelled with him. And now he had treated the Prince of Wales so badly that he had to give up Carlton House and had been forced to sell all his horses and carriages in order to pay his debts.

Was it not a disgrace to the nation that the Prince of Wales did not possess his own carriage?

When the Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert drove down to Brighton they went by hired post-chaise. This was the first time Royalty had ever had to travel in a hired conveyance and the Prince took a delight in allowing Mrs. Fitzherbert to pay whenever they hired a conveyance.

The nation was shocked, and at Windsor the King was sadly aware of his growing unpopularity.

The Prince had successfully turned the tables. He was clearly enjoying his spell of penury, whereas the King was finding it most embarrassing.