The Queen was elated by the Prince's reception. She had made sure that whenever possible people should be made aware of his callous behaviour during his father's illness. She had arranged that stories should be circulated of his treatment of herself and her daughters; how 7 he had tried to separate a wife from a sick husband, how he had sought for power at all costs, how it was the anxiety over his eldest son that had driven the King mad. Mr. Pitt and the Queen were friends; and the Prince was supporting the unpopular Whigs with Fox at their head. But most heinous of all his sins was that he lived in sin with a Papist or was married to her; and neither situation was one to commend him to the people.

Ah, Prince of Wales, thought the Queen malevolently, you would not accept my love so now you have my hate.

Strange that a mother could hate the son on whom she had once doted. But Queen Charlotte had been kept so long under restraint—treated as a woman of no importance, simply a breeder of royal children—and when such prisoners were free their actions often surprised even themselves.

The cartoonists were busy. The one which attracted the most attention was The Funeral of Miss Regency. This portrayed a coffin on which instead of wreaths was a coronet—the

Prince's—dice, and an empty purse. The chief mourner was Mrs. Fitzherbert.

When the Prince saw the cartoon he thought: Yes, Maria is the chief mourner. She believed that when I became Regent I would have recognized her. And if I had what would have happened? He remembered those sullen crowds at the thanksgiving service and was alarmed.

Maria could ruin me, he thought.

Somewhere from the past came the echo of an old song:

l Td crowns resign To call thee mine.'

Coming so near to the Regency had made him realize what the Crown would mean to him. He knew in his heart that he would never resign it. And if it came to the point of choosing between it and Maria ...

A few years ago he would have said unthinkingly: Maria.

And now?

I have already given up a great deal for her, he thought resentfully.

The Duke's Duel

The Queen was savouring her newly found power. The King's illness had shattered his confidence and he lived in constant terror of his malady returning. He had become an old man—a frightened old man—and the Queen, after years of submission, was now the ruler of the Court.

Her great enemy was the Prince of Wales and she was readv to do battle against him. She had her spies everywhere. How exciting life had become! How different this was from suffering the discomforts of pregnancy, being continuously concerned with nursery affairs, dealing with the accounts and managing her own household. Mr. Pitt was her great friend. He did not despise her influence; and everyone would agree that Mr. Pitt was the greatest politician of the age. Moreover, he was Prime Minister and head of the Tory Party, and the Court was Tory. When she gave a ball to celebrate the King's recovery all the ladies were in blue—the Tory colour—and the tables were decorated with devices complimentary to the Tory party; and there were even mottoes inscribed on the sweetmeats.

'The entertainment is for ministers and those persons who have voted for the King and me,' she announced, 'and those who have proved themselves my friends.'

A new tone, everyone noticed. Queen Charlotte could never have made such an announcement before the King's illness.

The Prince of Wales and his brothers had attended, although the Queen had shown quite clearly that she had no wish for them to come. The King, however, appeared to be pleased to see his sons and was anxious that all should be peaceful within the family.

But it was obvious from that evening—if it were not before —that there was open warfare between the Queen and the Prince of Wales and, since the Duke of York supported his brother in all things, that meant that the enmity extended to him as well.

The Queen was determined that no one but herself should have charge of the King. She knew as well as his doctors the precarious state of his health. He had at the moment recovered to some extent, but she was aware that at any moment his reason could again desert him. He was a poor, sick old man.

If he should again become insane she must be ready. In the meantime she was determined not to relinquish the smallest part of that power which she had just begun to relish.

When she was alone with the King she dwelt on the wickedness of the Prince of Wales, how he had cared only to grasp power; how he had revelled in his father's incapacity, how he had been unable to hide his dismay at his father's recovery.

'We have a rogue for a son,' she said. 'A profligate who longs to snatch the Crown from your head. I regret the day I ever bore him.'

The King wept. 'He has caused us such anxiety, but we must try to come to terms with him, eh, what?'

'Terms with him? We never shall. His terms are ... the Regency. That's what he wants. And Frederick is almost as bad.'

The King shook his head. Not Frederick, his favourite son, the hope of the House. 'No, no ... not Frederick ...'

The King was looking at her appealingly and she feared he would have a relapse.

'Well, perhaps not Frederick,' she conceded, 'but he is under the influence of George and I think we should be watchful.'

'Trouble, trouble,' wailed the King. 'Eh, what, trouble!'

The tears began to fall down his cheeks and the Queen warned herself that she must be careful.

The battle between the Queen and the Prince went on and her allies saw that stories were circulated about the Prince's behaviour. Because of the King's recently pathetic condition he had the sympathy of the people.

Each day the Prince grew more and more disturbed—not by the animosity of his family but by that of the people.

Once on the way to the opera his carriage was surrounded by the mob who threatened to drag him from it. The Prince disliked violence and was alarmed and astonished that it should be directed against himself, but his greatest emotion was anger that the partisans of the Queen should have spread such stories about him that the people who had once admired him should have turned against him.

He looked through the window of his carriage at those jeering faces.

'Pitt for ever!' came the shout.

'Damn Pitt!' retorted the Prince. 'Fox for ever.'

The crowd was startled by his reply and the driver seized the opportunity to drive on. As they passed through the shouting crowd the Prince began to think of what might have happened. It was very unpleasant.

But one thing was clear to him. He was no longer the

popular idol.

* • #

One early May morning the Prince, who was at Carlton House, was awakened by his brother's coming into his bedroom and flinging himself on to a chair by his bed.

The Prince started up, crying: 'Why, Fred, what on earth has happened to you? You look as if you've seen a ghost.'

'It might well have been you who was seeing a ghost at this moment, George. My ghost! Less than half an hour ago I faced death/

'What are you talking about?'

'My dear George, I have just come from Wimbledon Common where I faced Colonel Lennox in a duel.'

'Frederick, you tool.'

'You say that, George, but something had to be done about these rumours and slanders ... all directed at you.'

'Good God, Fred, what if ...'

Frederick laughed at his brother's disma\.

'Well, you see me here safe and sound.'

'Thank God for that. And Lennox?'

'Equally unharmed. But at least we have had satisfaction though no blood was drawn.'

'Fred ... this is going too far.'

'I tell you something had to be done. You know how friendly the Lennoxes are at Court. Lennox's mother is hand in glove with the Queen and the Colonel is a great favourite of our old toad of a mother, too. He has been abusing us right and left for months. Of course we know who is behind all this. I let it be known what I thought of Lennox and he challenged me ... so what could I do? We met on Wimbledon Common. I refused to fire. But Lennox's ball grazed my ear. Oh, nothing to be startled about. It singed one of my curls. No other damage, I do assure you, brother.'