During the weeks of the Jubilee recess the King had spent his spare moments in taking notes, and priming himself on fresh points of constitutional usage.

The Comptroller-General was greatly puzzled to see writing going on day after day in which neither he nor any of the secretaries were invited to take part. He was more puzzled still when, by means available to him, he obtained access to what the King had actually written.

After a single reading he felt it his duty to report to the Prime Minister.

"He seems to be writing a history of the Constitution," said the General. "Where he gets his facts from I don't know, but they don't seem to have come from you; quite the other side I should say."

On this note-taking, so voluminous that it resembled the writing of a history, the King was getting into his stride, and was discovering how very much better all these years he could have made his own speeches, had he only been allowed to. He had within him the gift of expression, though not the power of condensing it; he had industry, a good case, and now at last behind his back an unimpeachable authority. And so, at its next meeting he came down into Council stuffed full of facts and phrases, and quite determined that before things went any further his Ministry should hear them.

The constitutional crisis had reached a head as soon as Parliament again met. The defiant action of the Bishops had thrown the Government's program so much into arrears that a drastic quickening of the pace had become necessary; and if, in spite of scare and warning, the Bishops meant to go on doing as they had hitherto done it was evident that their constitutional powers must be limited. The Archimandrite and the Free Churchmen between them might supply the Government with a bare working majority; but that alone would not be sufficient to make legislation fruitful between then and the next general election. Unless the Government, after striking the blow, could come before the country bearing its sheaves with it, there was a very serious chance that its patriotic intention of continuing in power would be frustrated; and even a Government busily engaged in marking time to suit its own bureaucratic interests must appear to have covered the ground mapped out for it.

For this reason Cabinet ministers had been meeting and deciding on a good many things behind the King's back; and the "Spiritual Limitations Bill"—all the world has since heard of it—was the device they had adopted as most suitable to their needs. They proposed to bring it forward in a late winter session.

On the day before Council a draft of the proposed bill reached the hands of the King; and his Majesty on reading it and after referring once again to certain passages in Professor Teller's books of history, smiled gleefully and rubbed his hands; for though he had the heart of a vegetarian he was beginning to scent blood and rather to enjoy the smell of it.

II

The Council was already standing about the board when the King entered. Having bowed them to their seats he formally called on the Prime Minister to read the presented draft. This was done, and through the whole of it without a word of interruption his Majesty sat quiet and as good as gold.

Polite exposition was about to follow; but as the Prime Minister essayed an enlargement of his text his flight was stayed.

"Gentlemen," said the King, "I am dissatisfied with my position."

All turned amazed; the Professor with less amazement than the rest, for he observed, as confirmation of his suspicions, that the King's hand rested upon a bulky pile of manuscript.

"In this bill," said his Majesty, "you are proposing to remodel a Constitution that has lasted in an unwritten form for five hundred years. I see in your proposed emendations that the Crown is frequently mentioned, but its powers are nowhere defined—unless that constantly recurring phrase 'on the advice of his ministers' is a definition which you wish to see indefinitely extended. Otherwise there is no open indication that the Crown's powers are affected. But the question of constitutional rights as between the Bishops and the Laity to-day may to-morrow be a question involving the Crown also; and if you now mean to impose limits on one branch of the legislature, you must extend your definitions to cover the whole ground. I require, gentlemen, if this matter is to be carried any further, that my own powers and prerogatives shall be as accurately defined and set as much on a working basis as those of your two Chambers."

"'Working basis' is distinctly good," murmured Professor Teller, and looked admiringly at the King, whom the Prime Minister hastened to reassure.

"Your Majesty's powers," said he, "are in no way touched. At no single point of our proposals is any limitation suggested."

"Oh, I daresay not, I daresay not!" replied the King, "but though it isn't there in the text it is between the lines; yes, written with invisible ink which will be plain enough to read presently. What I am thinking about is the future. You may be perfectly right as to the wisdom of change; but we must have chapter and verse for it. We can't treat these matters any longer as an affair of honor. It used to be: now it isn't. Honor to-day is not a help but an impediment; I've found that out. To me it has lately become a question—a very grave question—whether I can in honor accept the advice of my ministers; and I do not intend to leave so disquieting a problem for my son to solve after me. There, now you have it!"

The King panted a little as he spoke, like a dog that has begun to feel the pace of a motor-car too much for him.

"I'm sorry that your Majesty has found any reason to complain," said the Prime Minister in a tone of grieved considerateness.

"I am not complaining," answered the King, "I'm only saying. And what I say is, let us have chapter and verse for it from beginning to end. Define the powers of the Crown as they exist to-day—but as they won't exist to-morrow unless you do—and your proposals shall have my most sympathetic consideration; but not otherwise."

"Surely the question your Majesty raises," interrupted the Prime Minister, "is an entirely separate one."

"No doubt you would treat it so," replied the King. "Oh, yes—break your sticks one at a time as the wise man did in the fable!"

A breath of protest blew round the Council board. What would he be accusing them of next?

"I daresay you don't mean it," he went on; "but it will be said, at some future day, that you did. And either you do mean it, or you don't; so if you don't what can be your objection to having it put down in black and white? I'm sure I have none. I have got everything written out here ready and waiting." And the King fingered his manuscript feverishly.

"One very obvious objection," interposed the Prime Minister in alarm, "is that there is no demand for it in the country. No political situation has arisen—the matter is not in controversy."

"You must pardon me," said the King, "we are in controversy now. Though the country knows nothing about it, my position is affected; the demand is mine."

"It is quite impossible, your Majesty," said the Prime Minister, with a brevity that was almost brusque. "It would entirely confuse the issue in the public mind."

"Direct it, I think you mean."

"In a most dangerous and inadvisable way."

"Dangerous to whom?" the King inquired shrewdly.

"The functions of the Crown must not be involved in party politics."

"Though party politics are involving the functions of the Crown? Oh, yes, Mr. Prime Minister, it is no use for you to shake your head. I contend that, without a word said, this bill does directly undermine my powers of initiative and independence. You deprive the Bishops of their right to vote on money bills; very well, that will include all royal grants, whether special or annual,—maintenance, annuities, and all that sort of thing. At present these are fixed by law and cannot be disturbed without the agreement of both Houses. That is my safeguard. But in future you leave the Bishops out, and you have me in the hollow of your hand. Oh, gentlemen, you need not protest your good intentions: I am merely putting the case as it will stand supposing a—well, a socialistic Government, bent on getting rid of the monarchy altogether, were to succeed you. Where should I be then? That is what I want you to consider. Oh, you don't need two sticks to beat a dog with! If you mean that, let us have it all said and done with,—put it in your bill; and if the country approves of it, well, if it approves of it, I shall be very much surprised."

The Prime Minister rose.

"Does your Majesty suggest," he began, "that any such idea——"

But the King cut him short. "Oh, I don't know what your ideas were; this isn't an idea, it's a bill."

The Prime Minister sat down again; all the Council were looking at him with mildly interrogating eyes, wondering what they should do next. The King had often been voluble before, but this time he was reasonably articulate; and as his pile of manuscript indicated he had come armed with definite proposals.

"I am asking for safeguards," said the King. "How do I know, how do any of us know, at what pace things may not be moving a few years hence? It is the pace that kills, you know; yes, very important thing—pace." His eye caught a friendly glance; it twinkled at him humorously; he appealed to it for support. "Yes, Professor, have you anything to say?"

The Professor rose and bowed. "I am only a listener, your Majesty," he said, and sat down again.

"Pace," said the King again, having for a moment lost the thread of his discourse. Then, having clung to that anchor to recover breath, once more he plunged on.

"If any royal prerogatives still exist," said he, "if I am to be still free to act upon them, then I want to be told what they are, and to have the country told also; yes, before any more of them become obsolete! At present it seems to me that anything of that kind is obsolete when it becomes inconvenient to the party in power."

Once more a respectfully modulated wave of protest went round the board.

"Oh, yes, gentlemen, I have become quite aware from what has recently taken place that an unexercised authority, if not set down in black and white, comes presently to be questioned as though it did not exist. If the title-deeds are missing, then you are no longer on your own premises. Well, for the future, I want to be upon mine. And here you come to me with this bill, and not a single one of you has seen fit to advise me as to how my own position is affected by it; no, I have had to go to other sources, and find out for myself."

At these words the Prime Minister saw an opening, and also a possible explanation of the manuscripts which lay under the King's hand. He put on a bold front and spoke without waiting for the royal pause.

"Have I, then, to understand," he inquired, "that your Majesty's advisers have lost the benefit of your Majesty's confidence?"

"By no means," replied the King. "If I am not confiding in you now, I don't know what confidence is. I am putting all my difficulties before you, and asking for your advice. But I don't want to have it in a hole-in-corner way, a bit at a time, first one and then another. We are in Council, and it is from my whole Council that I want to know how these difficulties are to be met. When I am alone I can get anybody to advise me, go to whomsoever I like; there is no difficulty about that."

The Prime Minister bristled; he seemed now to be on the track. "I must ask further, then," said he, "whether upon this question of a new written Constitution your Majesty has thought fit to consult others—those, that is to say, who are politically opposing us?"

Under an air of the deepest respect a charge of unconstitutional usage was clearly conveyed.

"Oh, you mean the Bishops?" said the King. "No; since all this trouble began I have been deprived of the consolations of the Church; not a single one of them has dared to come near me, except in an official capacity. Though, as I say, I have the right to consult any one."

The Prime Minister raised his eyebrows, in order, while formally agreeing, to make denial visible.

"Of course if your Majesty informs us of it," he said, "we shall know where we are."

"That is what I am saying," persisted the King. "If we all consult about it, then you know where you are, and I know where I am. There are the twenty of you, and here am I, and this is the first time that we have exchanged a word on the subject. Isn't it unreasonable to expect me to come to you with my mind made up on a thing I knew nothing about till yesterday? Why, it was only then I discovered that for you to discuss such a bill among yourselves, without having first sought my permission—a bill affecting the Constitution and the powers of the Crown—was in itself unconstitutional."

What on earth did he mean? Ministers looked at each other aghast.

"There!" cried the King, "you are all just as surprised as I was. That is why I say we must get it put into writing. You didn't know that you were interfering with royal prerogative. No more did I: we had forgotten to look up history. Now I've done it, and I daresay that as an historian Professor Teller will be able to inform you whether I am right?" And here with a flourish the King named his authority.

"Your Majesty has stated the constitutional usage with accuracy," acknowledged the Professor. "Whether usage is decisive remains a question."

"There!" said the King triumphantly. "That is what happens if things are not actually set down in law. Now you see my point."

The Prime Minister's brow grew dark.

"I think, your Majesty," said he, "that this is hardly a question we can discuss in Council."

"In a way you are right," acknowledged the King; "it should not have been discussed here, as I said just now, without my permission. But as it has been brought forward we either do discuss it and all that I have to propose in the matter, or I rule it out of order; and we will pass on, if you please, to the next business."

The King had finished; he leaned back in his chair; and the Prime Minister, collecting authority from the eyes of his colleagues, stood up and spoke.

"I think your Majesty hardly recognizes," said he, "that we cannot legislate on a matter as to which there is no public demand. In regard to the status of the Crown no political situation has arisen such as would justify your Majesty's advisers in adopting a course which might seem to indicate a lack of confidence. Under representative government no ministry can propose legislation which has only theory to recommend it. If your Majesty will allow me to make my representations in private, I think I shall be able to show that the course we propose is the only practical one. I would, therefore, most respectfully urge that for the present the points your Majesty raises may be set aside."

It was as direct a challenge of the royal will as one minister could well make in the presence of others; never before had a difference of opinion stood out so plainly for immediate decision under the eyes of a whole Cabinet.

The King heard and understood: it was a crucial moment in the exercise of his partially recovered authority; twenty pair of eyes were looking at him, curiously intent, one pair benevolently anxious. The Prime Minister was fingering his brief, ready to go on with the interrupted disquisition; he even looked surreptitiously at his watch to indicate that time pressed.

That little touch of covert insolence was sufficient; by a sort of instinct the incalculable values of heredity, training, and position asserted themselves. The King's lips parted in the shy nervous smile which charmed every one. "Mr. Prime Minister," he said, "I am perfectly willing to meet you at any future time you may like to name." He took up the agenda paper as he spoke and turned to the Minister of the Interior. "The Home Secretary," said his Majesty, "will now read his report."

Before they knew where they were the Council had passed on to its accustomed routine.

III

Nobody looked at the Prime Minister's face just then; for the moment he had been beaten, though the person who appeared least aware of it was the King.

But, of course, it was for the moment only. And when at a later hour of the day, with mind made resolute, the Prime Minister sought his promised interview, the monarch was no longer at an advantage. Dialectically he could not meet and match his opponent, and he had no longer that subtle advantage which presidency at a board of ministers confers. Speaking as man to man the head of the Government did not feel bound to observe that tradition of half-servile approach which in the hearing of others fetters the mouths of ministers.

The Jubilee celebrations were now over, the Parliamentary vacation approached; and what before had been mere talk and threat could now be put into instant action. And so when he had given the King his run, and listened to the royal obstinacy in all its varying phrases of repetition, contradiction, reproach, till it reached its final stage of blank immobility, he formally tendered the Ministry's resignation.

The King sat and thought for a while, for now it was clear that one way or the other he must make up his mind. All those strings of red tape, which he had meant to tie with such dilatory cunning hung loose in his grasp; to a Cabinet really set on resignation he could not apply them. Just as his hands had seemed full of power they became empty again. He knew that at the present moment no other ministry was possible, and that a general election was more likely to accentuate than to solve his difficulties; and so in sober chagrin he sat and thought, and the Prime Minister (as he noticed) was so sure of his power that he did not even trouble to watch the process of the royal hesitation resolving itself.

When after an appreciable time the King spoke he seemed to have arrived nowhere.

"This is the fifth time," he said, "that you have offered me resignation: and you know that I am still unable to accept it."

The Prime Minister bowed his head; he knew it very well, there was no need for words.

"And you know that I am still entirely unconvinced."

"For that," said the minister, "I must take blame; since it shows that my advocacy in so strong a case has been very imperfect."

"Oh, not at all," said the King. "I think you have shown even more than your accustomed ability."

"That is a compliment which—if it may be permitted—I can certainly return to your Majesty."

"I have felt very strongly upon this matter," said the King.

"We all do, sir—one way or the other. With great questions that is inevitable."

"You admit it is a great question?"

"I should never have so troubled your Majesty were it a small one."

The King's thoughts shifted.

"What a pity it is," said he, "that I and my ministers have never been friends."

"Have not loyal service and humble duty some claim to be so regarded?" inquired the Prime Minister. But the King let this official veneer of the facts pass unregarded.

"It would have helped things," he went on. "As it is, when I differ from my ministers I am all alone. It is in moments of difficulty like this that the head of the State realizes his weakness."

"There again, sir, you do yourself an injustice."

"Ah, that is easily said. But what does my power amount to when all is done? Perhaps at the cost of constant friction with my ministers I have been able to delay things for a while—given the country more time to make up its mind; but then, unfortunately, it was thinking of other things, and I myself provided the counter attraction. What I was trying to do in one way I was rendering of no effect in another; all that I intended politically has been swamped in ceremony."

"Your Majesty was never more popular than to-day," observed the Prime Minister. "That in itself is a power."

The King paused to consider; then he said, "If I am prepared eventually to give way, what time of grace can you allow me?"

"We must have our bill ready for the winter session, sir."

"Will you allow me till then?"

"If I may know what is in your Majesty's mind."

"What is in my mind is that the country should know what it is about. This bill has not yet been seen; by the public nothing is known of it. Well, that is what I ask: put it before the country, let the terms of it be clearly stated, and if, when we come to the winter session, you are still determined that it must form part of your program, then,"—the King drew himself up and took a breath—"then I will no longer stand in your way."

The Prime Minister bowed low to conceal his proud sense of triumph.

"I have your Majesty's word for that?"

"To-day is the 27th," said the King, "you can claim the fulfilment of that promise in four months' time."

"And till then?"

"Till then," said the King slowly, "this question is not again to come before Council. I hold to my point that its introduction without my express consent was unconstitutional, and to maintain the Constitution I am bound by oath."

The Prime Minister yielded the point readily, seeing in it the effort of dull obstinacy to score a nominal triumph. "There is, however, the accompanying condition," said he, "necessary for the success of our scheme; and to that I must once more refer. In order to pass our bill we shall need the consecration of at least fifty new Bishops, nominated by the Government; to that, also, your Majesty has hitherto been opposed."

"Oh, you mean the Free Churchmen?" queried the King. "Ah, yes, and the Archimandrite."

"In that matter," replied the Prime Minister, "I have some reason to believe that the Bishops will eventually give way."

The King felt himself a little more alone. "Yes," he said, "I daresay they will; I shouldn't wonder at all."

"Then over that, too, I may look for your Majesty's consent?"

The King repeated his former word. "I shall not stand in your way," he said; and again the Prime Minister bowed low.

"I have to thank your Majesty for relieving me of a great difficulty."

"Oh, no, why should you? You have not persuaded me in the least; you have merely forced me to a certain course, in which I still cannot pretend that I agree."

"I shall always recognize that your Majesty has acted on the highest motives, both in opposing and in ceasing to oppose."

"I shall ask you to remember that," said the King.

"There shall never be any misunderstanding on my part," replied the minister; and applying a palm to the hand graciously extended as though its mere touch had power to heal, he took his leave, and the fateful audience was over.

For a long time after, the King stood looking at the door out of which he had gone.

"I think there has been a misunderstanding, though," he said to himself, with a slow, faint smile, "and I don't think it is mine——" He paused. "Perhaps, though, I had better write down exactly what I said." And going to his desk he made there and then a careful memorandum of his words.

He read them over, and once again he smiled. He was still quite contented with what he had done. "And I wonder," he said to himself, "what Max would say if he knew?"

There was a great surprise waiting for Max, and well might the King wonder what that interesting young man would make of it. Yes, it was just as well that Max should not know anything about it beforehand; Max might run away.