Page:Life of Her Majesty Queen Victoria (IA lifeofhermajesty01fawc).pdf/235



But my present business is to tell you exclusively of the Queen's interview, for which great object I have only a few minutes. Swift then, if my poor hand but would! "Interview" took place this day gone a week. Nearly a week before that the Dean and Deaness (who is called Lady Augusta Stanley, once Bruce, an active, hard and busy woman) drove up here and, in a solemnly mysterious, half-quizzical manner, invited me for Thursday, 4th, at 5 —"must come; a very high, indeed highest personage has long been desirous," &c., &c. I saw well enough it was the Queen's incognita, and briefly agreed to come. "Half-past four, come you," and then went their ways.

Walking up at the set time, I was ushered into that long drawing-room in their monastic edifice. I found no Stanley yet there; only at the further end a tall old year-pole (?) of a Mrs. Grote, the most wooden-headed woman I know in London, or the world, who thinks herself very clever, &c., and the sight of whom led me to expect Mr. too, and perhaps others, as accordingly in a few minutes fell out. Grote and wife, Sir Charles Lyell and ditto, Browning and myself: that I saw to be our party. "Better than nothing," thought I, "these will take off the edge of the thing, if edge there be"—which it had n't, nor threatened to have.

The Stanleys and we were all in a flow of talk, and some flunkys had done setting coffee-pots and tea-cups of a sublime pattern, when Her Majesty, punctual to the minute, glided in, escorted by her dame-in-waiting (a Duchess Dowager of Athol), and by the Princess Louise, decidedly a very pretty young lady, and clever too, as I found out in talking to her afterwards. The Queen came softly forward, a kindly little smile on her face, gently shook hands with all the three women, gently acknowledged with a nod the silent bows of us male monsters; and directly in her presence every one was at ease again. She is a comely little lady, with a pair of kind, clear, and intelligent gray eyes; still looks almost young (in spite of one broad wrinkle which shows on each cheek occasionally); is still plump; has a fine, low voice, soft; indeed, her whole manner is melodiously perfect. It is impossible to imagine a politer little woman; nothing the least imperious; all gentle, all sincere, looking unembarrassing,—rather attractive even; makes you feel, too (if you have any sense in you), that she is Queen.

After a little word to each of us—to me it was, "Sorry you did not see my daughter" (Princess of Prussia), or "all sorry," perhaps so; which led us to Potsdam, Berlin, &c., for an instant or two. To Sir Charles Lyell I heard her say, "Gold in Sutherland"—but quickly and delicately cut him short in responding. To Browning, "Are you writing anything?" (who has just been publishing the absurdest things!) To Grote I did not hear what she said, but it was touch-and-go with everybody—Majesty visibly without interest, or nearly so, of her own.

After this, coffee (very black and muddy) was handed round, Queen and three women taking seats, Queen in the corner of a sofa, Lady Deaness in opposite corner, Mrs. Grote in a chair intrusively close to Majesty;