Later, when they came to the passage about Education, Lord John made an alteration in the draft, adding something about strengthening the institutions of the country. Lord Palmerston started up and asked: “Does that mean Reform?” Lord John answered: “It might or might not.” “Well, then,” said Lord Palmerston, with a heat of manner which struck the whole Cabinet, and was hardly justified by the occasion, “I wish it to be understood that I protest against any direct or indirect attempt to bring forward the Reform question again!” Lord John, nettled, muttered to himself, but loud enough to be heard by everybody: “Then I shall bring forward the Reform Bill at once.” That the “King’s Speech” is the Speech of the Ministers has been admitted by reigning Sovereigns even in the eighteenth century when constitutional monarchy was not quite firmly established, and, at any rate, when Kings were disposed to act independently of their advisers. In 1756, a too enterprising and most audacious bookseller was prosecuted for publishing a spurious Speech on the eve of the opening of Parliament. “I hope,” said George II, “the fellow’s punishment will be light, for I have read both Speeches, the real and the false, and, so far as I understand them, I like the printer’s speech better than my own.” The fellow was heavily fined and sent to Newgate by the Lords and the mock Speech was burnt by the common hangman in New Palace Yard and at the Royal Exchange as a “scandalous libel and a high contempt of his Majesty.” But the King had the fine remitted and the term of imprisonment curtailed. “Well, Lord Chancellor,” said George III to Lord Eldon, as he was leaving the House of Lords after opening Parliament, “did I deliver the Speech well?” “Very well indeed, sir,” was the reply. “I’m surprised at that,” said the King, “for there was nothing in it.” The voice was the voice of the King, but the words were the words of his Ministers. Still, the King must surely be allowed some latitude of opinion in regard to the King’s Speech beyond a formal expression of approval. The truth is that if he chooses he may suggest alterations, and insist upon them, no doubt, provided modifications of policy are not implied. He probably softens an expression now and then, or adds a gracious sentence. Did not George III insert in his first Speech the famous words, “Born and bred in this country, I glory in the name of Briton!” He was the first English-born King since the Revolution. George I could not speak a word of English. He and his Prime Minister, Walpole, discussed affairs of State in bad Latin. George II publicly proclaimed himself a foreigner every time he read the Speech to the “Gendlemen of de Houze of Gommons.” The historic phrase of George III has been ascribed to the influence of his early friend and adviser, the Scottish John Stuart, third Earl of Bute, which, it was said, explained the degradation of the proud name of “Englishman”