William IV. made Sir Herbert Taylor his secretary; but when Victoria came to the throne, the duties of this servant were so misunderstood that she was allowed no secretary; all alike being afraid lest the servant should become the master and adviser. The Queen wished to appoint Baron Stockmar, but fortunately for everyone Melbourne would not consent to this, for as Stockmar was practically the agent of King Leopold, the nation would have been indignant at his being put into so important a position. Leopold had had the prudence not to hurry over to England as soon as his niece became Queen, which was wise of him, for had he come he would have been accused of desiring to rule the country through her, and, besides, discord must have arisen between him and his sister the Duchess. What he did was to send the Baron over, who for some years had been occupied in training Prince Albert for the high position his uncle intended him to hold. The Baron’s unacknowledged post about the Queen was that of theoretic political tutor rather than actual adviser, for he had been brought up in the midst of German theories, and never seemed to understand the difference between the English and German system of governing. That he gave Queen Victoria much excellent advice, and that a profound and trusting regard existed between them, cannot be doubted, but he was another foreigner added to those already about the Throne, and his name was instantly connected with those who were still known as the Kensington Camarilla. There were naturally many who distrusted the Baron. Abercromby, the Speaker, said that he felt it his duty to call attention in Parliament to the unconstitutional position of the foreigner Stockmar; a course which, however, he never followed. Melbourne himself, much as he was said to approve of the German, occasionally felt a certain uneasiness about him, which was expressed as follows:—
“King Leopold and Stockmar are very good and intelligent people, but I dislike very much to hear it said that I am influenced by them. We know it is not true, but still I dislike to hear it said.”
A general report was spread abroad that the Baron was acting in the important position of secretary to the Queen, and Melbourne in a letter to a colleague wrote: “There is, of course, no truth in Stockmar’s appointment. It should be quietly contradicted.” While this matter was being discussed, Victoria sent for Sir Herbert Taylor to get his advice, and he asked, “Is your Majesty afraid of the work?” which drew from her the reply, “I mean to work.” “Then don’t have a secretary,” he retorted, which was silly, seeing that without one the Queen would have to spend all her time doing secretarial work.
In the end Melbourne arranged to act as secretary to her Majesty on matters of state, which entailed seeing her every day, and the Baroness Lehzen undertook at first personal and domestic affairs, and there were more than hints that she really did fill the post of adviser so dreaded by those in Parliament.
The name of the Baroness Lehzen raised the fury of the more intemperate of political writers, for they had always suspected her of acting, not against the interest of England so much as against the interest of party. This may or may not have been the case, but there can be no doubt whatever concerning her intense love for her one-time pupil, and it was probably this as well as her enmity to Conroy that helped to make a breach between her and the Duchess; for two people loving the same person are very likely to get different ideas concerning that person’s good, and to quarrel over each other’s methods. Baroness Lehzen, as has been said, was a real German, stolid, conventional, sensible, and, like many of her countrywomen, showing little imagination. She may have had as much influence as the Duchess or King Leopold in debarring the girl from all imaginative literature and from all fiction. When Victoria became Queen she had never read a novel, and there seems to be no evidence that she had ever touched literature or anything beyond lessons or history books. This, of course, may have been caused by a certain system of education, or it may have been that those in authority had no taste for belles lettres or intellectual exercise. It was the day in which it was thought dangerous for a woman to use her brains, and when a certain limited knowledge of facts was regarded as education. I notice that when the Duchess asked the Bishops of London and Lincoln to “examine” the Princess in 1830, they mention only the subjects of Christian Religion, Scripture, History, Geography, Arithmetic, and the Latin Grammar, and expressed themselves entirely satisfied. Of course, this was a fairly good education for the period, but it was all a matter of memory, and, apart from history, left little place for the exercise of the mind.
By the time Victoria had been Queen for a year she had read three novels, and had struggled through two books of memoirs, but it was possible that what she had lost in her youthful training could never be regained. However, her daily habits were impeccable. She had been brought up in simplicity both in dress and food, regularity in meals, work, play, and sleep, and punctuality, being punctual herself and demanding it of others. She was also taught never to half-learn or half-do anything, but always to finish that which she began. One story of her punctuality is told by several writers, but the irrepressible Creevy gives it in an amusing form, so I quote it here.
“A word or two about Vic. She is as much idolised as ever, except by the Duchess of Sutherland, who received a very proper snub from her two days ago. She was half an hour late for dinner, so little Vic. told her that she hoped it might not happen another time; for, tho’ she did not mind in the least waiting herself, it was very unpleasant to keep her company waiting.”
Lady Georgiana Grey had the Baroness by her side at dinner one day, and heard from her high laudations of Her Majesty, such as that she was absolutely perfect, that she worked from morning to night, and that she would be surrounded with dispatch boxes while her maid was doing her hair. There was an earlier occasion on which Lehzen let her heart overflow about the perfections of her charge, saying, among other things, that, though she would never be a beautiful or grand-looking woman, she would certainly be one of the greatest Monarchs of Europe—“great, not in beauty nor in stature, but great in intellect and as a wife and in motherly love to her children, and greater still as mother of England.” To this she added, “I know all about her, and I feel she will live to be idolised, and leave a name behind her such as none of her predecessors have left.”
If these words were so uttered, and not amplified by uncertain memory, it seems that there was at least one person who thought that she knew the character of the Princess. Stockmar is said to have come to the same judgment when he first saw her in 1836. “England will grow great and famous under her rule!” was his remark. It is added that these words being repeated to the King, drew from him the answer, “If Stockmar said that, I cease regretting that I have no children to whom to hand down the crown.”
It was a pity that between the two women who had done most towards forming the mind of the young Queen there should have arisen an abiding coolness. Sir John Conroy was the one person in whom the Duchess reposed her confidence, and whose advice she sought before taking any action; but Lehzen hated Conroy, and had probably inspired her pupil with the same sentiment. It was more than likely that Conroy, as well as the Duchess, was perfectly aware of her feelings, for the Baroness considered that they did not use her well. Then, too, judging from after events, it is very possible that Lehzen had already acquired an undue influence over Victoria, and had raised the bitter jealousy of the Duchess. However, the whole little circle kept up appearances, and the people forming it were outwardly on cordial terms. Victoria was devoted to her Lehzen, and when at home apparently always required her company; for the Ministers who had occasion to see Her Majesty would often, on entering a room by one door, see the Baroness disappearing by another, and as soon as the audience was over she would return to the Queen.