increased in England; from 1861 to 1901 it steadily declined.  The first process was due to the influence of the Prince Consort, the second to that of a series of great Ministers.  During the first Victoria was in effect a mere accessory; during the second the threads of power, which Albert had so laboriously collected, inevitably fell from her hands into the vigorous grasp of Mr. Gladstone, Lord Beaconsfield, and Lord Salisbury.  Perhaps, absorbed as she was in routine, and difficult as she found it to distinguish at all clearly between the trivial and the essential, she was only dimly aware of what was happening.  Yet, at the end of her reign, the Crown was weaker than at any other time in English history.  Paradoxically enough, Victoria received the highest eulogiums for assenting to a political evolution, which, had she completely realised its import, would have filled her with supreme displeasure.

Nevertheless it must not be supposed that she was a second George III.  Her desire to impose her will, vehement as it was, and unlimited by any principle, was yet checked by a certain shrewdness.  She might oppose her Ministers with extraordinary violence, she might remain utterly impervious to arguments and supplications; the pertinacity of her resolution might seem to be unconquerable; but, at the very last moment of all, her obstinacy would give way.  Her innate respect and capacity for business, and perhaps, too, the memory of Albert’s scrupulous avoidance of extreme courses, prevented her from ever entering an impasse.  By instinct she understood when the facts were too much for her, and to them she invariably yielded.  After all, what else could she do?

But if, in all these ways, the Queen and her epoch were profoundly separated, the points of contact between them also were not few.  Victoria understood very well the meaning and the attractions of power and property, and in such learning the English nation, too, had grown to be more and more proficient.  During the last fifteen years of the reign—­for the short Liberal Administration of 1892 was a mere interlude imperialism was the dominant creed of the country.  It was Victoria’s as well.  In this direction, if in no other, she had allowed her mind to develop.  Under Disraeli’s tutelage the British Dominions over the seas had come to mean much more to her than ever before, and, in particular, she had grown enamoured of the East.  The thought of India fascinated her; she set to, and learnt a little Hindustani; she engaged some Indian servants, who became her inseparable attendants, and one of whom, Munshi Abdul Karim, eventually almost succeeded to the position which had once been John Brown’s.  At the same time, the imperialist temper of the nation invested her office with a new significance exactly harmonising with her own inmost proclivities.  The English polity was in the main a common-sense structure, but there was always a corner in it where common-sense could not enter—­where, somehow