KING AND COUNCIL
I
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.