world left to
me that I do love," was he not creating for himself an enchanted palace
out of the Arabian Nights, full of melancholy and spangles, in which
he actually believed? Victoria's state of mind was far more simple;
untroubled by imaginative yearnings, she never lost herself in that
nebulous region of the spirit where feeling and fancy grow confused. Her
emotions, with all their intensity and all their exaggeration, retained
the plain prosaic texture of everyday life. And it was fitting that her
expression of them should be equally commonplace. She was, she told her
Prime Minister, at the end of an official letter, "yours aff'ly V. R.
and I." In such a phrase the deep reality of her feeling is instantly
manifest. The Faery's feet were on the solid earth; it was the ruse
cynic who was in the air.

He had taught her, however, a lesson, which she had learnt with alarming
rapidity. A second Gloriana, did he call her? Very well, then, she would
show that she deserved the compliment. Disquieting symptoms followed
fast. In May, 1874, the Tsar, whose daughter had just been married to
Victoria's second son, the Duke of Edinburgh, was in London, and, by an
unfortunate error, it had been arranged that his departure should not
take place until two days after the date on which his royal hostess had
previously decided to go to Balmoral. Her Majesty refused to modify
her plans. It was pointed out to her that the Tsar would certainly be
offended, that the most serious consequences might follow; Lord Derby
protested; Lord Salisbury, the Secretary of State for India, was much
perturbed. But the Faery was unconcerned; she had settled to go to
Balmoral on the 18th, and on the 18th she would go. At last Disraeli,
exercising all his influence, induced her to agree to stay in London
for two days more. "My head is still on my shoulders," he told Lady
Bradford. "The great lady has absolutely postponed her departure!
Everybody had failed, even the Prince of Wales... and I have no doubt I
am not in favour. I can't help it. Salisbury says I have saved an Afghan
War, and Derby compliments me on my unrivalled triumph." But before very
long, on another issue, the triumph was the Faery's. Disraeli, who had
suddenly veered towards a new Imperialism, had thrown out the suggestion
that the Queen of England ought to become the Empress of India. Victoria
seized upon the idea with avidity, and, in season and out of season,
pressed upon her Prime Mini