Within a month of the accession, the realities of the new situation assumed a

visible shape. The whole royal household moved from Kensington to Buckingham
Palace, and, in the new abode, the Duchess of Kent was given a suite of

apartments entirely separate from the Queen's. By Victoria herself the change
was welcomed, though, at the moment of departure, she could afford to be

sentimental. "Though I rejoice to go into B. P. for many reasons," she wrote
in her diary, "it is not without feelings of regret that I shall bid adieu for

ever to this my birthplace, where I have been born and bred, and to which I am
really attached!" Her memory lingered for a moment over visions of the past:

her sister's wedding, pleasant balls and delicious concerts and there were
other recollections. "I have gone through painful and disagreeable scenes

here, 'tis true," she concluded, "but still I am fond of the poor old palace.
At the same time she took another decided step. She had determined that she

would see no more of Sir John Conroy. She rewarded his past services with
liberality: he was given a baronetcy and a pension of L3000 a year; he

remained a member of the Duchess's household, but his personal intercourse
with the Queen came to an abruptconclusion.

II
It was clear that these interior changes--whatever else they might

betoken--marked the triumph of one person--the Baroness Lehzen. The pastor's
daughter observed the ruin of her enemies. Discreet and victorious, she

remained in possession of the field. More closely than ever did she cleave to
the side of her mistress, her pupil, and her friend; and in the recesses of

the palace her mysterious figure was at once visible" target="_blank" title="a.看不见的；无形的">invisible and omnipresent. When
the Queen's Ministers came in at one door, the Baroness went out by another;

when they retired" target="_blank" title="a.退休的；通职的">retired, she immediately returned. Nobody knew--nobody ever will
know--the preciseextent and the precise nature of her influence. She herself

declared that she never discussed public affairs with the Queen, that she was
concerned with private matters only--with private letters and the details of

private life. Certainly her hand is everywhere discernible in Victoria's early
correspondence. The Journal is written in the style of a child; the Letters

are not so simple; they are the work of a child, rearranged--with the minimum
of alteration, no doubt, and yet perceptibly--by a governess. And the

governess was no fool: narrow, jealous, provincial, she might be; but she was
an acute and vigorous woman, who had gained by a peculiarinsight, a peculiar

ascendancy. That ascendancy she meant to keep. No doubt it was true that
technically she took no part in public business; but the distinction between

what is public and what is private is always a subtle one; and in the case of
a reigning sovereign--as the next few years were to show--it is often

imaginary. Considering all things--the characters of the persons, and the
character of the times--it was something more than a mere matter of private

interest that the bedroom of Baroness Lehzen at Buckingham Palace should have
been next door to the bedroom of the Queen.

But the influence wielded by the Baroness, supreme as it seemed within its own
sphere, was not unlimited; there were other forces at work. For one thing, the

faithful Stockmar had taken up his residence in the palace. During the twenty
years which had elapsed since the death of the Princess Charlotte, his

experiences had been varied and remarkable. The unknown counsellor of a
disappointed princeling had gradually risen to a position of European

importance. His devotion to his master had been not only whole--hearted but
cautious and wise. It was Stockmar's advice that had kept Prince Leopold in

England during the critical years which followed his wife's death, and had
thus secured to him the essentialrequisite of a point d'appui in the country

of his adoption. It was Stockmar's discretion which had smoothed over the
embarrassments surrounding the Prince's acceptance and rejection of the Greek

crown. It was Stockmar who had induced the Prince to become the constitutional
Sovereign of Belgium. Above all, it was Stockmar's tact, honesty, and

diplomatic skill which, through a long series of arduous and complicated
negotiations, had led to the guarantee of Belgian neutrality by the Great

Powers. His labours had been rewarded by a German barony and by the complete
confidence of King Leopold. Nor was it only in Brussels that he was treated

with respect and listened to with attention. The statesmen who governed
England--Lord Grey, Sir Robert Peel, Lord Palmerston, Lord Melbourne--had

learnt to put a high value upon his probity and his intelligence. "He is one
of the cleverest fellows I ever saw," said Lord Melbourne, "the most discreet

man, the most well-judging, and most cool man." And Lord Palmerston cited
Baron Stockmar as the only absolutely disinterested man he had come across in

life, At last he was able to retire to Coburg, and to enjoy for a few years
the society of the wife and children whom his labours in the service of his

master had hitherto only allowed him to visit at long intervals for a month or
two at a time. But in 1836 he had been again entrusted with an important

negotiation, which he had brought to a successful conclusion in the marriage
of Prince Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg, a nephew of King Leopold's, with Queen

Maria II of Portugal. The House of Coburg was beginning to spread over Europe;
and the establishment of the Baron at Buckingham Palace in 1837 was to be the

prelude of another and a more momentous advance.
King Leopold and his counsellor provide in their careers an example of the

curious diversity of human ambitions. The desires of man are wonderfully
various; but no less various are the means by which those desires may reach

satisfaction: and so the work of the world gets done. The correct mind of
Leopold craved for the whole apparatus of royalty. Mere power would have held

no attractions for him; he must be an actual king--the crowned head of a
people. It was not enough to do; it was essential also to be recognised;

anything else would not be fitting. The greatness that he dreamt of was
surrounded by every appropriate circumstance. To be a Majesty, to be a cousin

of Sovereigns, to marry a Bourbon for diplomatic ends, to correspond with the
Queen of England, to be very stiff and very punctual, to found a dynasty, to

bore ambassadresses into fits, to live, on the highest pinnacle, an exemplary
life devoted to the public service--such were his objects, and such, in fact,

were his achievements. The "Marquis Peu-a-peu," as George IV called him, had
what he wanted. But this would never have been the case if it had not happened

that the ambition of Stockmar took a form exactly complementary to his own.
The sovereignty that the Baron sought for was by no means obvious. The

satisfaction of his essential being lay in obscurity, in invisibility--in
passing, unobserved, through a hidden entrance, into the very central chamber

of power, and in sitting there, quietly, pulling the subtle strings that set
the wheels of the whole world in motion. A very few people, in very high

places, and exceptionally well-informed, knew that Baron Stockmar was a most
important person: that was enough. The fortunes of the master and the servant,

intimately interacting, rose together. The Baron's secret skill had given
Leopold his unexceptionable kingdom; and Leopold, in his turn, as time went

on, was able to furnish the Baron with more and more keys to more and more
back doors.

Stockmar took up his abode in the Palace partly as the emissary of King
Leopold, but more particularly as the friend and adviser of a queen who was

almost a child, and who, no doubt, would be much in need of advice and
friendship. For it would be a mistake to suppose that either of these two men