claim of the Crown.  More than that; after the dismissal of Palmerston, among the grounds on which Lord John justified that dismissal in the House of Commons he gave a prominent place to the memorandum of 1850.  It became apparent that the displeasure of the Sovereign might be a reason for the removal of a powerful and popular Minister.  It seemed indeed as if, under the guidance of Stockmar and Albert, the “Constitutional Monarchy” might in very truth be rising “to a height of power, stability, and symmetry, which had never been attained.”

But this new development in the position of the Crown, grave as it was in itself, was rendered peculiarly disquieting by the unusual circumstances which surrounded it.  For the functions of the Crown were now, in effect, being exercised by a person unknown to the Constitution, who wielded over the Sovereign an undefined and unbounded influence.  The fact that this person was the Sovereign’s husband, while it explained his influence and even made it inevitable, by no means diminished its strange and momentous import.  An ambiguous, prepotent figure had come to disturb the ancient, subtle, and jealously guarded balance of the English Constitution.  Such had been the unexpected outcome of the tentative and fainthearted opening of Albert’s political life.  He himself made no attempt to minimise either the multiplicity or the significance of the functions he performed.  He considered that it was his duty, he told the Duke of Wellington in 1850, to “sink his own individual existence in that of his wife—­assume no separate responsibility before the public, but make his position entirely a part of hers—­fill up every gap which, as a woman, she would naturally leave in the exercise of her regal functions—­continually and anxiously watch every part of the public business, in order to be able to advise and assist her at any moment in any of the multifarious and difficult questions or duties brought before her, sometimes international, sometimes political, or social, or personal.  As the natural head of her family, superintendent of her household, manager of her private affairs, sole confidential adviser in politics, and only assistant in her communications with the officers of the Government, he is, besides, the husband of the Queen, the tutor of the royal children, the private secretary of the Sovereign, and her permanent minister.”  Stockmar’s pupil had assuredly gone far and learnt well.  Stockmar’s pupil!—­precisely; the public, painfully aware of Albert’s predominance, had grown, too, uneasily conscious that Victoria’s master had a master of his own.  Deep in the darkness the Baron loomed.  Another foreigner!  Decidedly, there were elements in the situation which went far to justify the popular alarm.  A foreign Baron controlled a foreign Prince, and the foreign Prince controlled the Crown of England.  And the Crown itself was creeping forward ominously; and when, from under its shadow, the Baron and the Prince had frowned, a great Minister, beloved of the people, had fallen.  Where was all this to end?