Fatherly and experienced as was Melbourne, and ready as was the Queen to be taught, she did not give herself unreservedly into his hands, and there was no truth in the cheap witticism which I have come across somewhere: “‘The Lion of England,’ said the Queen, with one of her bland smiles, ‘has been taught to lie down with the Lamb!’”
If there was anything of particular importance to decide, Victoria was not one to go calmly where she was led; she had left all that ductility behind on the day that she attained her eighteenth year. Her answer would be: “I would rather think about it first; I will let you know my decision to-morrow.” Thus would she reply to everyone, with the result that many said that she could not decide a question until she had asked advice of Melbourne. But he recorded that such was her habit with him, and that when he talked to her upon any subject which required an expressed opinion of her own, she would reply that she would think it over and let him know her sentiments the next day. Of course, the next suggestion was that Lehzen was her counsellor, and that she always ran to her for advice; failing that lady, that it was Stockmar. The curious thing was that only one person seems to have suggested that the Duchess of Kent was the power behind the Throne, and this was Lord Brougham, of whom Greville, being at Holland House once, wrote that he “came in after dinner, looking like an old clothes man, and as dirty as the ground.” But there is no doubt at all that the Queen really and wisely decided to think matters out for herself, and not to adjudge any matter rashly. Leopold constantly gave her this advice: “Whenever a question is of some importance, it should not be decided on the day on which it is submitted to you.... It is really not doing oneself justice de décider des questions sur le pouce.”
LORD BROUGHAM.
Greville complained that Victoria betrayed caution and prudence, the former to a degree unnatural in one so young, and unpleasing in that it suppressed the youthful impulses regarded generally as so graceful and so attractive. This caution was shown in her dislike of expressing an opinion upon people; Melbourne was never able to extract any idea as to whom she liked or disliked, which seemed much to surprise him; but once, probably anxious to know who, supposing for some unforeseen reason he failed her, would be most acceptable as her adviser, he pressed the point. Her Majesty, still cautious, asked if it were a matter of State policy that she should answer. Melbourne replied that in no other circumstances would he have presumed to put such a question. “Then,” she said, “there is one person for whom I should feel a decided preference, and that is the Duke of Wellington.”
It was but natural that the Premier—a word much in use at that period—should feel some embarrassment at the amount of work he had to bring this girl, who might well have hoped for a life of ease and enjoyment, and sometimes he apologised for his exactions. She would not, however, recognise the need for such apology, saying that the attention required from her was only a change of occupation; she had not so far led a life of leisure, “for you know well that I have not long left off my lessons.”
At this time the Queen was said to be much more like the Brunswicks than the Guelphs, being, in fact, very like the unfortunate wife of George I., who was imprisoned for years in the Royal palace at Celle, in Hanover. Sophia’s hair was much fairer, but the features were the same.
The little Queen, despite her busy life and the extra work she gave herself in her attempt to remember and judge, had time to think of other people. She worked with the zeal of the new-comer, kept a journal, in which she entered anything remarkable that she noticed, with her criticisms thereon; and after every important debate would collect all the newspaper reports and make a précis of the best of them. She thought for the comfort of the Dowager Queen, and was somewhat troubled about the Fitzclarences; the pension list was gone through by her, and some little acts of kindness done. Thus old Sir John Lade, who had been one of the wildest of the Regent’s companions in the palmy days of the Pavilion, was still alive, having run through all his possessions. “Our Prinny” had given him a pension of five hundred a year out of the Privy Purse; William IV. gave him three hundred a year when he came to the throne, but it was supposed that with the young Queen his pension must end. The poor old roué, then over eighty, implored Lord Sefton’s interest with Melbourne to secure him some portion, however small, of the amount; but Melbourne could hold him out no hope that he would receive it. When Queen Victoria was asked her pleasure in the matter, she said, “But is not Sir John over eighty years old?” “That is so, your Majesty.” “Then I will neither inquire into the pension nor reduce it; it shall be continued from my Privy Purse,” she answered.
The tribe of Fitzclarences were in a state of rebellious anxiety concerning their own affairs; they all were holding sinecures and drawing salaries, besides being in receipt of pensions out of the public pension list and nearly £10,000 a year given them by King William. It was in Victoria’s power to withdraw all this, and the accounts of the austerity of the Kensington circle thoroughly frightened them. Between the Duchess of Kent and all the Fitzclarences, whether taken singly or as a family, there was no love, no liking, scarcely tolerance; and so little was known of Victoria by them that they could only suppose that she shared her mother’s views.
Lord Munster, the eldest, received the first shock, which communicated itself to the other members. He held the post of Lieutenant of the Round Tower, and on his surrendering the keys to the Queen they were not given back to him, though Victoria was most pleasant and polite. But Munster behaved with discretion, for he probably expected this; and after some days it was discovered that he had been given the post for life. So the keys were returned him, with ample apology from Lord Melbourne. When the pensions and other things were considered, the Prime Minister advised Her Majesty to grant all the Fitzclarences the same amounts they had enjoyed during their father’s life, for, he said, “It would be kind, it would be generous, and it would be conclusive. No further demand could be made.”