nued his endless instruction in Scripture history, while
the Duchess of Northumberland, the official governess, presided over
every lesson with becoming solemnity. Without doubt, the Princess's main
achievement during her school-days was linguistic. German was naturally
the first language with which she was familiar; but English and French
quickly followed; and she became virtually trilingual, though her
mastery of English grammar remained incomplete. At the same time, she
acquired a working knowledge of Italian and some smattering of Latin.
Nevertheless, she did not read very much. It was not an occupation that
she cared for; partly, perhaps, because the books that were given her
were all either sermons, which were very dull, or poetry, which was
incomprehensible. Novels were strictly forbidden. Lord Durham persuaded
her mother to get her some of Miss Martineau's tales, illustrating the
truths of Political Economy, and they delighted her; but it is to be
feared that it was the unaccustomed pleasure of the story that filled
her mind, and that she never really mastered the theory of exchanges or
the nature of rent.

It was her misfortune that the mental atmosphere which surrounded her
during these years of adolescence was almost entirely feminine. No
father, no brother, was there to break in upon the gentle monotony of
the daily round with impetuosity, with rudeness, with careless laughter
and wafts of freedom from the outside world. The Princess was never
called by a voice that was loud and growling; never felt, as a matter
of course, a hard rough cheek on her own soft one; never climbed a wall
with a boy. The visits to Claremont--delicious little escapes into male
society--came to an end when she was eleven years old and Prince Leopold
left England to be King of the Belgians. She loved him still; he was
still "il mio secondo padre or, rather, solo padre, for he is indeed
like my real father, as I have none;" but his fatherliness now came to
her dimly and indirectly, through the cold channel of correspondence.
Henceforward female duty, female elegance, female enthusiasm, hemmed
her completely in; and her spirit, amid the enclosing folds, was hardly
reached by those two great influences, without which no growing life can
truly prosper--humour and imagination. The Baroness Lehzen--for she had
been raised to that rank in the Hanoverian nobility by George IV before
he died--was the real centre of the Princess's world. When F