back; at last, however, he could keep silence no longer. It was of the utmost importance to him that, in his manœuvrings with France and Holland, he should have, or at any rate appear to have, English support. But the English Government appeared to adopt a neutral attitude; it was too bad; not to be for him was to be against him, could they not see that? Yet, perhaps, they were only wavering, and a little pressure upon them from Victoria might still save all. He determined to put the case before her, delicately yet forcibly—just as he saw it himself. "All I want from your kind Majesty," he wrote, "is, that you will occasionally express to your Ministers, and particularly to good Lord Melbourne, that, as far as it is compatible with the interests of your own dominions, you do not wish that your Government should take the lead in such measures as might in a short time bring on the destruction of this country, as well as that of your uncle and his family."[1] The result of this appeal was unexpected; there was dead silence for more than a week. When Victoria at last wrote, she was prodigal of her affection. "It would, indeed, my dearest Uncle, be very wrong of you, if you thought my feelings of warm and devoted attachment to you, and of great
- ↑ Letters, I, 116.
