Queen Victoria

with her uncle.117 So far so good. But King Leopold was still cautious; though a crisis was impending in his diplomacy, he still hung back; at last, however, he could keep silence no longer. It was of the utmost importance to him that, in his manoeuvrings with France and Holland, he should have, or at any rate appear to have, English support. But the English Government appeared to adopt a neutral attitude; it was too bad; not to be for him was to be against him, could they not see that? Yet, perhaps, they were only wavering, and a little pressure upon them from Victoria might still save all. He determined to put the case before her, delicately yet forcibly⁠—just as he saw it himself. “All I want from your kind Majesty,” he wrote, “is, that you will occasionally express to your Ministers, and particularly to good Lord Melbourne, that, as far as it is compatible with the interests of your own dominions, you do not wish that your Government should take the lead in such measures as might in a short time bring on the destruction of this country, as well as that of your uncle and his family.”118 The result of this appeal was unexpected; there was dead silence for more than a week. When Victoria at last wrote, she was prodigal of her affection. “It would, indeed, my dearest Uncle, be very wrong of you, if you thought my feelings of warm and devoted attachment to you, and of great affection for you, could be changed⁠—nothing can ever change them”⁠—but her references to foreign politics, though they were lengthy and elaborate, were noncommittal in the extreme; they were almost cast in an official and diplomatic form. Her Ministers, she said, entirely shared her views upon the subject; she understood and sympathised with the difficulties of her beloved uncle’s position; and he might rest assured “that both Lord Melbourne and Lord Palmerston are most anxious at all times for the prosperity and welfare of Belgium.” That was all. The King in his reply declared himself delighted, and reechoed the affectionate protestations of his niece. “My dearest and most beloved Victoria,” he said, “you have written me a very dear and long letter, which has given me great pleasure and satisfaction.” He would not admit that he had had a rebuff.119

A few months later the crisis came. King Leopold determined to make a bold push, and to carry Victoria with him, this time, by a display of royal vigour and avuncular authority. In an abrupt, an almost peremptory letter, he laid his case, once more, before his niece. “You know from experience,” he wrote, “that I never ask anything of you⁠ ⁠… But, as I said before, if we are not careful we may see serious consequences which may affect more or less everybody, and this ought to be the object of our most anxious attention. I remain, my dear Victoria, your affectionate uncle, Leopold R.”120 The Queen immediately despatched this letter to Lord Melbourne, who replied with a carefully thought-out form of words, signifying nothing whatever, which, he suggested, she should send to her uncle. She did so, copying out the elaborate formula, with a liberal scattering of “dear Uncles” interspersed; and she concluded her letter with a message of “affectionate love to Aunt Louise and the children.” Then at last King Leopold was obliged to recognise the facts. His next letter contained no reference at all to politics. “I am glad,” he wrote, “to find that you like Brighton better than last year. I think Brighton very agreeable at this time of the year, till the east winds set in. The pavilion, besides, is comfortable; that cannot be denied. Before my marriage, it was there that I met the Regent. Charlotte afterwards came with old Queen Charlotte. How distant all this already, but still how present to one’s memory.” Like poor Madame de Lieven, His Majesty felt that he had made a mistake.121

Nevertheless, he could not quite give up all hope. Another opportunity offered, and he made another effort⁠—but there was not very much conviction in it, and it was immediately crushed. “My dear Uncle,” the Queen wrote, “I have to thank you for your last letter which I received on Sunday. Though you seem not to dislike my political sparks, I think it is better not to increase them, as they might finally take fire, particularly as I see with regret that upon this one subject we cannot agree. I shall, therefore, limit myself to my expressions of very sincere wishes for the welfare and prosperity of Belgium.”122 After that, it was clear that there was no more to be said. Henceforward there is audible in the King’s letters a curiously elegiac note. “My dearest Victoria, your delightful little letter has just arrived and went like an arrow to my heart. Yes, my beloved Victoria! I do love you tenderly⁠ ⁠… I love you for yourself, and I love in you the dear child whose welfare I tenderly watched.” He had gone through much; yet, if life had its disappointments, it had its satisfactions too. “I have all the honours that can be given, and I am, politically speaking, very solidly established.” But there were other things besides politics, there were romantic yearnings in his heart. “The only longing I still have is for the Orient, where I perhaps shall once end my life, rising in the west and setting in the east.” As for his devotion to his niece, that could never end. “I never press my services on you, nor my councils, though I may say with some truth that from the extraordinary fate which the higher powers had ordained for me, my experience, both political and of private life, is great. I am always ready to be useful to you when and where and it may