September, 1841; but more than a year
was to elapse before another and an equally momentous change was
effected--the removal of Lehzen. For, in the end, the mysterious
governess was conquered. The steps are unknown by which Victoria was at
last led to accept her withdrawal with composure--perhaps with relief;
but it is clear that Albert's domestic position must have been greatly
strengthened by the appearance of children. The birth of the Princess
Royal had been followed in November, 1841, by that of the Prince of
Wales; and before very long another baby was expected. The Baroness,
with all her affection, could have but a remote share in such family
delights. She lost ground perceptibly. It was noticed as a phenomenon
that, once or twice, when the Court travelled, she was left behind at
Windsor. The Prince was very cautious; at the change of Ministry, Lord
Melbourne had advised him to choose that moment for decisive action;
but he judged it wiser to wait. Time and the pressure of inevitable
circumstances were for him; every day his predominance grew more
assured--and every night. At length he perceived that he need hesitate
no longer--that every wish, every velleity of his had only to be
expressed to be at once Victoria's. He spoke, and Lehzen vanished for
ever. No more would she reign in that royal heart and those royal halls.
No more, watching from a window at Windsor, would she follow her pupil
and her sovereign walking on the terrace among the obsequious multitude,
with the eye of triumphant love. Returning to her native Hanover she
established herself at Buckeburg in a small but comfortable house, the
walls of which were entirely covered by portraits of Her Majesty. The
Baron, in spite of his dyspepsia, smiled again: Albert was supreme.

IV

The early discords had passed away completely--resolved into the
absolute harmony of married life. Victoria, overcome by a new, an
unimagined revelation, had surrendered her whole soul to her husband.
The beauty and the charm which so suddenly had made her his at first
were, she now saw, no more than but the outward manifestation of the
true Albert. There was an inward beauty, an inward glory which, blind
that she was, she had then but dimly apprehended, but of which now she
was aware in every fibre of her being--he was good--he was great! How
could she ever have dreamt of setting up her will against his wisdom,
her ignorance against his knowledge, her fancies against his