without thinking, Lady Lyttelton described someone to her as being "as happy

as a queen," and then grew a little confused, "Don't correct yourself, Lady
Lyttelton," said Her Majesty. "A queen IS a very happy woman."

But this new happiness was no lotus dream. On the contrary, it was bracing,
rather than relaxing. Never before had she felt so acutely the necessity for

doing her duty. She worked more methodically than ever at the business of
State; she watched over her children with untiring vigilance. She carried on a

large correspondence; she was occupied with her farm--her dairy--a whole
multitude of household avocations--from morning till night. Her active, eager

little body hurrying with quick steps after the long strides of Albert down
the corridors and avenues of Windsor, seemed the very expression of her

spirit. Amid all the softness, the deliciousness of unmixed joy, all the
liquescence, the overflowings of inexhaustible sentiment, her native rigidity

remained. "A vein of iron," said Lady Lyttelton, who, as royal governess, had
good means of observation, "runs through her most extraordinarycharacter."

Sometimes the delightfulroutine of domesticexistence had to be interrupted.
It was necessary to exchange Windsor for Buckingham Palace, to open

Parliament, or to interview official personages, or, occasionally, to
entertain foreign visitors at the Castle. Then the quiet Court put on a sudden

magnificence, and sovereigns from over the seas--Louis Philippe, or the King
of Prussia, or the King of Saxony--found at Windsor an entertainment that was

indeed a royal one. Few spectacles in Europe, it was agreed, produced an
effect so imposing as the great Waterloo banqueting hall, crowded with guests

in sparkling diamonds and blazing uniforms, the long walls hung with the
stately portraits of heroes, and the tables loaded with the gorgeous gold

plate of the kings of England. But, in that wealth of splendour, the most
imposingspectacle of all was the Queen. The little hausfrau, who had spent

the day before walking out with her children, inspecting her livestock,
practicing shakes at the piano, and filling up her journal with adoring

descriptions of her husband, suddenly shone forth, without art, without
effort, by a spontaneous and natural transition, the very culmination of

Majesty. The Tsar of Russia himself was deeply impressed. Victoria on her side
viewed with secret awe the tremendous Nicholas. "A great event and a great

compliment HIS visit certainly is," she told her uncle, "and the people HERE
are extremely flattered at it. He is certainly a VERY STRIKING man; still very

handsome. His profile is BEAUTIFUL and his manners MOST dignified and
graceful; extremely civil--quite alarmingly so, as he is so full of attentions

and POLITENESS. But the expression of the EYES is FORMIDABLE and unlike
anything I ever saw before." She and Albert and "the good King of Saxony," who

happened to be there at the same time, and whom, she said, "we like much--he
is so unassuming-" drew together like tame villatic fowl in the presence of

that awful eagle. When he was gone, they compared notes about his face, his
unhappiness, and his despotic power over millions. Well! She for her part

could not help pitying him, and she thanked God she was Queen of England.
When the time came for returning some of these visits, the royal pair set

forth in their yacht, much to Victoria's satisfaction. "I do love a ship!" she
exclaimed, ran up and down ladders with the greatest agility, and cracked

jokes with the sailors. The Prince was more aloof. They visited Louis Philippe
at the Chateau d'Eu; they visited King Leopold in Brussels. It happened that a

still more remarkable Englishwoman was in the Belgian capital, but she was not
remarked; and Queen Victoria passed unknowing before the steady gaze of one of

the mistresses in M. Heger's pensionnat. "A little stout, vivacious lady, very
plainly dressed--not much dignity or pretension about her," was Charlotte

Bronte's comment as the royal carriage and six flashed by her, making her wait
on the pavement for a moment, and interrupting the train of her reflections.

Victoria was in high spirits, and even succeeded in instilling a little
cheerfulness into her uncle's sombre Court. King Leopold, indeed, was

perfectly contented. His dearest hopes had been fulfilled; all his ambitions
were satisfied; and for the rest of his life he had only to enjoy, in

undisturbed decorum, his throne, his respectability, the table of precedence,
and the punctualcharge" target="_blank" title="vt.&n.卸货；释放；解雇">discharge of his irksome duties. But unfortunately" target="_blank" title="ad.不幸；不朽；可惜">unfortunately the

felicity of those who surrounded him was less complete. His Court, it was
murmured, was as gloomy as a conventicle, and the most dismal of all the

sufferers was his wife. "Pas de plaisanteries, madame!" he had exclaimed to
the unfortunatesuccessor of the Princess Charlotte, when, in the early days

of their marriage, she had attempted a feeble joke. Did she not understand
that the consort of a constitutionalsovereign must not be frivolous? She

understood, at last, only too well; and when the startled walls of the state
apartments re-echoed to the chattering and the laughter of Victoria, the poor

lady found that she had almost forgotten how to smile.
Another year, Germany was visited, and Albert displayed the beauties of his

home. When Victoria crossed the frontier, she was much excited--and she was
astonished as well. "To hear the people speak German," she noted in her diary,

"and to see the German soldiers, etc., seemed to me so singular." Having
recovered from this slight shock, she found the country charming. She was

feted everywhere, crowds of the surrounding royalties swooped down to welcome
her, and the prettiest groups of peasant children, dressed in their best

clothes, presented her with bunches of flowers. The principality of Coburg,
with its romanticscenery and its well-behaved inhabitants, particularly

delighted her; and when she woke up one morning to find herself in "dear
Rosenau, my Albert's birthplace," it was "like a beautiful dream." On her

return home, she expatiated, in a letter to King Leopold, upon the pleasures
of the trip, dwelling especially upon the intensity of her affection for

Albert's native land. "I have a feeling," she said, "for our dear little
Germany, which I cannot describe. I felt it at Rosenau so much. It is a

something which touches me, and which goes to my heart, and makes me inclined
to cry. I never felt at any other place that sort of pensive pleasure and

peace which I felt there. I fear I almost like it too much."
V

The husband was not so happy as the wife. In spite of the great improvement in
his situation, in spite of a growing family and the adoration of Victoria,

Albert was still a stranger in a strange land, and the serenity of spiritual
satisfaction was denied him. It was something, no doubt, to have dominated his

immediate environment; but it was not enough; and, besides, in the very
completeness of his success, there was a bitterness. Victoria idolised him;

but it was understanding that he craved for, not idolatry; and how much did
Victoria, filled to the brim though she was with him, understand him? How much

does the bucket understand the well? He was lonely. He went to his organ and
improvised with learned modulations until the sounds, swelling and subsiding

through elaborate cadences, brought some solace to his heart. Then, with the
elasticity of youth, he hurried off to play with the babies, or to design a

new pigsty, or to read aloud the "Church History of Scotland" to Victoria, or
to pirouette before her on one toe, like a ballet-dancer, with a fixed smile,

to show her how she ought to behave when she appeared in public places. Thus
did he amuse himself; but there was one distraction in which he did not

indulge. He never flirted--no, not with the prettiest ladies of the Court.
When, during their engagement, the Queen had remarked with pride to Lord

Melbourne that the Prince paid no attention to any other woman, the cynic had
answered, "No, that sort of thing is apt to come later;" upon which she had

scolded him severely, and then hurried off to Stockmar to repeat what Lord M.
had said. But the Baron had reassured her; though in other cases, he had

replied, that might happen, he did not think it would in Albert's. And the
Baron was right. Throughout their married life no rival female charms ever had

cause to give Victoria one moment's pang of jealosy
What more and more absorbed him--bringing with it a curious comfort of its

own--was his work. With the advent of Peel, he began to interveneactively in
the affairs of the State. In more ways than one--in the cast of their

intelligence, in their moral earnestness, even in the uneasy formalism of
their manners--the two men resembled each other; there was a sympathy between

them; and thus Peel was ready enough to listen to the advice of Stockmar, and
to urge the Prince forward into public life. A royal commission was about to

be formed to enquire whether advantage might not be taken of the rebuilding of
the Houses of Parliament to encourage the Fine Arts in the United Kingdom; and

Peel, with great perspicacity, asked the Prince to reside" target="_blank" title="vi.主持(会议)；主管">preside over it. The work
was of a kind which precisely suited Albert: his love of art, his love of

method, his love of coming into contact--close yet dignified--with
distinguished men--it satisfied them all; and he threw himself into it con

amore. Some of the members of the commission were somewhat alarmed when, in
his opening speech, he pointed out the necessity of dividing the subjects to

be considered into "categories-" the word, they thought, smacked dangerously
of German metaphysics; but their confidence returned when they observed His

Royal Highness's extraordinarytechnicalacquaintance with the processes of
fresco painting. When the question arose as to whether the decorations upon

the walls of the new buildings should, or should not, have a moral purpose,
the Prince spoke strongly for the affirmative. Although many, he observed,

would give but a passing glance to the works, the painter was not therefore to
forget that others might view them with more thoughtful eyes. This argument

convinced the commission, and it was decided that the subjects to be depicted
should be of an improving nature. The frescoes were carried out in accordance

with the commission's instructions, but unfortunately" target="_blank" title="ad.不幸；不朽；可惜">unfortunately before very long they
had become, even to the most thoughtful eyes, totallyinvisible. It seems that

His Royal Highness's technicalacquaintance with the processes of fresco
painting was incomplete!

The next task upon which the Prince embarked was a more arduous one: he
determined to reform the organisation of the royal household. This reform had

been long overdue. For years past the confusion, discomfort, and extravagance
in the royal residences, and in Buckingham Palace particularly, had been

scandalous; no reform had been practicable under the rule of the Baroness; but
her functions had now devolved upon the Prince, and in 1844, he boldly

attacked the problem. Three years earlier, Stockmar, after careful enquiry,