The King was heated, the Prince incredibly cool. He did not care. There was nothing the King could do to him. He even had his friends in the House, ambitious politicians who were ready to form a Prince's party when the opportunity arose. It was Hanoverian history repeating itself.

Princes of Wales always quarrelled with the Kings and if that King was their father all the fiercer was the quarrel. It was amusing in politics to have an Opposition led by the King-to-be while the King-that-was supported his Government. The Prince enjoyed the situation immensely, particularly as that most amusing, witty and brilliant of statesmen, Charles James Fox, was making overtures to him. The fact was the King was an ignorant old bore, an old fool and apart from a love of music he had no feelings for culture whatsoever.

The Prince felt very superior to the King and was certainly not going to attempt to hide something which in any case he felt to be obvious. The Prince bowed his head and waited with studied indifference for the storm to break.

"You're being talked about, young man.”

"Your Majesty will know that I have always been talked about.”

"I want no insolence," said the King. "You understand that, eh? What?”

The Prince raised his eyebrows.

"It's this woman ... this actress ... You know who I mean, eh?”

"I believe Your Majesty to be referring to Mrs. Mary Robinson.”

"Ah, so you've no doubt of that. It's got to stop. You understand me? It's got to stop, eh? It's got to stop.”

"Indeed.”

"Pray, sir, none of your insolence. I do not think you grasp the extent of your duty to er ... to the state. You must lead a more sober life. You must be er... more ...”

"Like Your Majesty?" said the Prince with the faintest sneer in his voice.

"You must remember that one day you may be King of this realm.”

"I have yet to learn that there is any doubt of that.”

"You be silent and listen to me. You will give up that actress. You will go to her and explain that your duties as Prince of Wales make it impossible for you to continue this er ... this er...”

"Liaison," prompted the Prince.

"This disgusting association," cried the King. "You understand me, eh? what? You stand there smiling. Take that grin off your face. You will go to this woman and tell her. You will do it at once, eh? what? Answer me. I tell you to take that grin off your face.”

"I thought Your Majesty's questions merely rhetorical and that in accordance with those habitually asked by Your Majesty required no answer.”

"You insolent... puppy.”

George advanced, his hand raised. He remembered suddenly an occasion when his grandfather had struck him. It was in Hampton Court and he had never liked the place since. But he had not been insolent like this young fellow. He had merely stammered. He was increasingly remem- bering scenes from the past.

The Prince stolidly stood his ground, amused by his father's vehemence.

"I'll cut your allowance," cried the King.

"That is a matter for the Government.”

Too clever, thought the King. And too much grace. He made his father feel clumsy. He was a social success whereas his father had been shy and gauche at his age. There was a world of difference between them. This George had all the airs and graces to make him popular. He was educated; he played the violin-cello with skill; he could chat in French and Italian and had a better command of the English language than his father could ever have; and his clothes! The King thought them outrageous but he supposed those who liked fashion would admire them. Oh, this son of his, of whom he had once been so proud, had grown too far from him. George realized with a start that he no longer had any control over him.

"And," he said angrily, 'you see too much of your uncle Cumberland. I daresay he thinks this is all very fine, eh, what? I daresay he thinks it's all very well to set actresses up in houses, eh? what?”

"We were discussing only one actress and one establishment, Your Majesty.”

"I'll have no more of your insolence. You learn your ways from Cumberland and his wife, I'll swear. That woman, eh? Very experienced before your uncle was such a fool as to marry her.

Eyelashes a yard long, I heard. Artful as Cleopatra and succeeded in making a fool of your uncle, eh? What?”

"My uncle seems very content to be made a fool of. Your Majesty.”

"Don't answer me back.”

"Ah, I understand. Another of those questions which require no answer. Your Majesty's pardon.”

What could he say to such a one? He was too quick for him. He was the Prince of Wales; people were on his side. He himself was growing old, he supposed; although he was not really old in years. But he felt tired and incapable of handling this young man.

"You will see less of your uncle Cumberland and his wife. You will stop seeing this actress altogether, eh? What? I want no scandal. We cannot afford more scandals in the family. You understand me?”

"A question Your Majesty? Or a prophecy?”

Oh the insolence of the boy!

"You get out of my sight before I... before I..." He needed no second order to do that. He bowed and, pretending to stifle a yawn, sauntered from the apartment. Insolent puppy! What could he do with such a one? George sat down, his brain was whirling. Everything went wrong. America! The Prince of Wales! Everything!

He covered his face with his hands and oddly enough he could see nothing but that woman of his brother's with the eyelashes a yard long and young George with his actress. He had made enquiries about the young woman; she was one of the most beautiful in London. Gloucester had a beautiful wife. They were rogues all of them and he tried to be a virtuous man, a good King. As a result he had Charlotte. Charlotte and a large family who would flout him as the eldest was doing now.

Life was a tragedy and a disappointment. It was as though Hannah and Sarah came to mock him.

It could have been different. At first he tried to shut out of his mind the erotic images that crowded into it. Then he made no attempt to do so. He sat thinking of what might have been.

Very shortly afterwards the shortcomings of the Prince of Wales were forgotten in a disaster which threatened to lay waste the whole of London and Westminster.

Ever since George's association with Hannah Lightfoot he had felt the need for tolerance in religious matters and, although he favoured Quakers particularly, he wanted to be remembered as the King under whom religious freedom had been encouraged.

England was fiercely Protestant and had been ever since the reign of Mary I, when the Smithfield fires had shocked the country. The history of England might have been different if James II had not become a Papist. Then he would have continued to reign and his son after him, and the House of Hanover would never have been known in England. George was King because his ancestors had been Protestants.

The laws against Catholics were unjust, he had always considered. Catholics could not hold land; Army officers could not be Catholics; the son of a Catholic who became a Protestant could claim his father's property; Catholic religious services were officially illegal, although for many years they had been held and no one had taken any action.

There had been no great religious fervour in England; the natural impulse was to go one's way and let others do the same. Occasionally minorities suffered a little and George had on several occasions shown his desire to protect them. He had begun by professing his friendship for the Quakers and when there had been certain comment about this, had extended his benevolence to other sects. Two years previously the Catholic Relief Bill was brought before Parliament, was passed through both Houses without much publicity, and George had very willingly given it his signature.

All would have been well but for Lord George Gordon, who at thirty years old was weak, unbalanced and had a grudge against life. He was a younger son of the Duke of Gordon; and his brother, William had been the lover of Sarah Lennox which had brought him into some prominence because of Sarah's early relationship with the King.

He had had a commission in the Navy, but because he was not given a ship of his own he resigned. He was a strange man, fanatically religious while leading a life of debauchery. Six years previously he had entered Parliament where he sought to make a name for himself as he had in the Navy. He was very handsome and a good speaker, but he lacked something which was essential to success. He could grow hysterical; he was often the worse for drink and it was known that he often spent his nights in the brothels.

No one was very much aware of him. When he rose to speak in the House many members would slip out. He was there because of his family; and he was nothing on his own. This rankled, and looking about him for a way of calling attention to himself, he found it in the Catholic Relief Bill.

He himself was a Protestant and had opposed the Bill, but his little protest was quite unimportant.

Or was it? Well, they would see.

He hit on a way of making them take notice of him, and he became fanatically overjoyed at the result of his efforts. First he had joined the Protestant Association of England which was delighted to welcome a lord into its midst, and it was a very short step for Lord George between joining and becoming its President.

In Scotland the Society was very strong and there had been some dissension across the border when the Relief Bill was passed, the Protestant Association up there having encouraged its members to riot in one or two towns. Now if Lord George could bring about the abolition of the Catholic Relief Act or, failing that, whip the Protestants of London to such a fury that they would behave as those in Scotland, he would be famous.

No one could laugh at him then, no one could think him insignificant. No one could say that if he were not a Gordon he would be nowhere. Therefore he would start actions which would mean his name would be remembered in the history books of tomorrow while the Protestants of today claimed him as the hero who had saved them from the Catholic threat.

Having a mission, Lord George was indefatigable. His dark limp hair fell about his ears; his pale skin was damp with the sweat of exertion; the fanatic looked out from his wild eyes as he went to the newspaper offices to insert advertisements that the people might know he was working on their behalf. He had a petition for the Repeal of the Catholic Relief Act which had been signed by thousands; and anyone who wanted a copy of the petition and the signatures could get it at the various stated places. Meanwhile in the Houses of Parliament he asked for the Repeal of the Act; he declared that he was speaking for thousands and that the Government would be ill advised to ignore him. The Government ignored him.

Gordon then wrote a long pamphlet and asked for an audience with the King, and when George received him Gordon insisted on reading the pamphlet to him.

The King listened and then became tired of the excited fanatic who went on voicing arguments with which he could not agree. George yawned significantly, but Gordon went on. George looked at his watch, but if Gordon noticed his sovereign's impatience he gave no sign. At last George could bear it no more.

"Leave it," he said. "I will read the rest myself.”

Gordon could do nothing but retire at that, but he was not content when he heard no more from the King. He demanded other interviews during which he harangued the King, told him that many Protestants went so far as to believe the King was a Papist, and demanded something be done.

The King, worried by the conduct of the Prince of Wales, his brothers, the health of Octavius, the ever present subject of America, dismissed him again. But he was disturbed. He sent for North.

"I begin to think this man Gordon is bent on stirring up trouble, eh? what?”

"Your Majesty, the man is a born agitator.”

"He's saying they suspect me of being a Papist. What? Doesn't he know my family have always been stern Protestants. The man's a fool.”

"A fool, sir, but a dangerous one. He is having meetings. His followers are everywhere. They're a formidable body.”

"I don't think the Protestants are so fierce over their religion, eh?”

"Sir, I have had my servants at his meetings. It's not so much a matter of religion. He attracts the mob and the mob is glad of an opportunity to make trouble.”