shadow of britain

Chapter 858 Shameless

I will do my utmost to fulfill my responsibilities to the country. I am young and may lack experience in many areas (but not all), but I am certain that I have an unparalleled passion and genuine desire to fulfill my duties.

—From *The Diary of Queen Victoria* by Alexandra Victoria

The morning fog had not yet dissipated, and the walls of No. 4 Whitehall Street looked as if they were covered with damp plaster.

Outside the window, the bells of Westminster Abbey rang out through the mist, slow and steady, each echo seeming to replay the clamor of the previous night.

Arthur, who had just arrived at the office, placed his cane on the corner of the desk and took off his hat, hanging it on the coat rack.

The edges of the desk, covered in dark green leather, were worn smooth, and the wax from last night's candles had condensed into white flowers on the candlesticks.

He had barely settled down and hadn't even had time to make tea when he heard a knock at the door.

"Sir, Ridley King is reporting to you."

Arthur didn't look up, but first folded the black-edged envelope he had taken from his pocket. The seal was red, the edges were clearly defined, and it bore the royal coat of arms. It had been sent yesterday afternoon after the Privy Council held an emergency meeting at Kensington Palace. The title of the letter was not complicated, and the content was far from obscure: "Her Majesty's Accession Proclamation" has been certified by the Privy Council and will continue to be read and posted throughout the city today. Please handle crowds and unusual events with caution.

At the very bottom is a thin signature: Victoria.

Victoria, not Alexandra Victoria, was the first time Arthur had seen one of his students use this signature style.

Perhaps she wanted to sever ties with her past self, or as Baron Stockmall said, he believed that the name Alexandrina would easily remind the British public of her godfather, Tsar Alexander I of Russia, and thus associate her with autocratic monarchs.

or……

That's it.

Arthur didn't want to think too much about it; after all, a girl's mind is always hard to fathom, especially an eighteen-year-old. He had already exhausted too many brain cells and taken too many decisive actions over the past few years to solve this complex problem. In short, from the perspective of the Secretary-General of the Police Commissioner's Committee, Arthur believed that continuing in this manner was extremely unacceptable.

"come in."

The office door was pushed open, and Ridley strode in, straightening his posture as he saluted Arthur.

Looking at his neat uniform and his dignified expression, it's really hard to associate him with Miss Queen from Huang Chunju Street.

However, Ridley didn't immediately talk about work today. Instead, he inquired about Arthur's well-being: "Sir, how did you sleep last night?"

"Pretty good, I slept from four in the afternoon until five this morning." Arthur stretched and leaned back in his chair. "I can't remember the last time I slept this soundly. Maybe it was before I started serving in Scotland Yard?"

Ridley pursed his lips, forcing himself to swallow the words, "I think it might be June 5, 1832," out of concern for his career prospects.

Even though Arthur didn't sleep as soundly as he did five years ago, his radiant appearance suggested that he had indeed had a good rest last night.

After all, the Secretary General of the Commissioner for Police Affairs had been busy from 6 a.m. the day before yesterday until 2 p.m. yesterday, and only after attending Queen Victoria's first meeting at Kensington Palace did he return home by carriage.

Even on his return journey, he managed to steal a few moments to write several letters to Scotland Yard, the Police Intelligence Service, and various local police departments, providing incredibly detailed security and prevention guidelines for the new king's coronation celebrations that might take place across the country in the coming days.

If Arthur hadn't been without the title of Privy Council Counselor, he might have wanted to stay at Kensington Palace for the Privy Council's closed-door meeting from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m.

Of course, although Arthur was not qualified to attend, another member of the Commissioner for Police Affairs, the former Permanent Secretary of the Interior, His Excellency Henry Hobhouse, attended the meeting as an advisor to the Privy Council.

That afternoon, Ridley, who was in charge of security around Kensington Palace, naturally approached Hobhouse immediately after the meeting and asked to personally escort him back. On the carriage, he enthusiastically inquired about the Privy Council meeting.

You asked Ridley why he was asking about these things?

That's obviously to satisfy curiosity.

Humans are naturally curious; this is a common human trait and a perfectly normal thing.

However, some people are more curious than others, such as Sir Arthur Hastings. This is an individual difference, and Ridley is very good at understanding and respecting such minority groups.

Ridley casually mentioned to Arthur the reactions of various important figures to the Queen's first appearance.

"Your Excellencies were deeply moved by Her Majesty's speech, especially her opening remarks: 'The death of my dear uncle, His Majesty the King, has brought immense and painful loss to the entire nation and has transferred the responsibility of governing the Imperial Government to me. This enormous responsibility has fallen upon me so suddenly, and I am so young. If it were not for the divine will that has entrusted me with this duty, granting me the courage to fulfill it, and the support of my pure aims and passion for the public good through the political resources that would normally belong to a more mature and experienced monarch, I would have been utterly crushed by this burden…'"

To be honest, Arthur couldn't help but feel a little smug when he heard this.

When he was writing this long and difficult sentence, he was worried that Victoria might get stuck halfway through, but it turned out that he was overthinking it.

Perhaps because Victoria had already been tested by the Robert C. C. memorial service, her enthronement address at Kensington Palace yesterday was remarkably fluent and natural. The assembled gentlemen were stunned by the new queen's performance, many deeply moved by her clear voice and composed delivery. Several ladies in attendance were even moved to tears, and even the most critical royalists acknowledged Victoria's debut as queen. The notoriously sharp-tongued Privy Council Secretary Charles Greville bluntly stated: "Her first impression was unprecedented, and the unanimous praise and compliments for her demeanor and bearing were also unprecedented—and there was nothing wrong with that. Her performance was extraordinary, far exceeding our best expectations. Her youth and inexperience, and her ignorance of the world around her, naturally aroused a strong interest in her."

And no one seemed to disagree with Greville's praise.

Crocker, a representative of the Higher Tories and former First Lord of the Navy, also admitted: "She was as interesting and dignified as all the young ladies I knew."

As for the British war hero, the Duke of Wellington, who had previously harbored doubts about Victoria, immediately expressed his support for the young queen after the speech: "Her Majesty the Queen not only sits firmly on the throne, but her aura fills the entire room, and she makes everyone present feel convinced of her worth."

On the Whig side, the reviews were equally overwhelming.

Whig MP and renowned author Thomas Crevey spent almost the entire afternoon talking to his friends about Victoria after attending the speech: "Our dear little queen is perfect in every way."

Lord John Russell, the Home Secretary, also praised the new Queen: "To the men present, she was just a child, even a 'child queen.' But she won everyone's praise with the simplest and most unpretentious manner."

Admittedly, Victoria's debut was perfect, but the reason she garnered so much praise was largely due to Conroy's continuous attacks on her recently.

After all, most of the gentlemen present yesterday had heard Conroy's rumors about Victoria's mental instability.

While these rumors might not be able to fool these seasoned veterans of British politics, they did inevitably lower their expectations of Victoria. In addition, she was just an eighteen-year-old girl, so before arriving at Kensington Palace, almost everyone agreed that as long as Victoria didn't have an emotional breakdown or cry loudly on stage, she would be considered qualified.

Therefore, they were naturally delighted when they saw that the Queen not only behaved well and gave fluent speeches, but also displayed a certain monarchical majesty.

This unanimous praise from the upper class quickly spread to the middle class and then influenced the lower class.

Almost overnight, the entire country seemed to fall in love with her.

Before heading to Scotland Yard today, Arthur had his coachman take a detour via Fleet Street, and as he had predicted, Fleet Street was already brightly lit even though it was barely dawn. Arthur stopped by the editorial office of The Observer and found that the excited editors were planning to name this contagious craze "Reginamania."

Meanwhile, Le Figaro London is refining a cartoon that is about to be published. The cartoon is not complicated. The protagonist is the newly enthroned Queen Victoria and a personified version of England, John Bull, wearing a top hat, boots, and holding an umbrella. There is also a small note at the bottom of the cartoon: John Bull is even willing to cut off his ears if the little queen asks.

However, what truly impressed the public about Victoria was her treatment of Queen Adelaide and William IV's illegitimate son. Victoria not only allowed Adelaide to move into Buckingham Palace, but also showed exceptional care for her illegitimate cousins, the FitzClarence family, the illegitimate sons of William IV. Previously, her mother, the Duchess of Kent, had forbade her from contacting this family, but Victoria, after ascending the throne, continued to show them concern and promised to continue to support them.

This "Queen fanaticism" is not limited to British society. Even Sally Stevenson, the wife of the American Minister who attended the ceremony at Kensington Palace yesterday, wrote in a letter to her sisters in Virginia: "Everyone is madly devoted to the young Queen... In all social circles, people are talking about her beauty, intelligence, kindness, and composure. There are a thousand anecdotes about her kindness and that brilliant speech, which is how she conquered everyone and everything."

However, the discussion surrounding Victoria's succession was not entirely positive.

Perhaps the thing that people are most dissatisfied with about the new queen is her teeth.

Even Whig MP Crivey, who praised Victoria highly, said tactfully, "Perhaps she does wolf down her food or laugh heartily and indecently show her gums, but I'm willing to overlook these flaws."

The American ambassador's wife was more direct: "The Queen's voice is very pleasant, and she has a beautiful chest, feet and big blue eyes, but her mouth is the worst feature of her appearance. Generally speaking, her mouth is a little open, her teeth are small and short, and when she smiles, her gums are exposed, which makes her look a bit ugly."

However, for a monarch, physical imperfections gradually become insignificant as the reign progresses, so Arthur had nothing to worry about in this regard.

Furthermore, his unattractive teeth did not prevent members of the Privy Council from vying to kiss his hand, nor did they prevent nearly a thousand members of both houses from swearing allegiance to the new monarch of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland at 11:00 a.m. and 12:00 p.m. yesterday.

The frequent good news made Arthur feel very happy, so much so that he planned to have a couple of drinks early in the morning.

He opened the liquor cabinet and poured Ridley a glass of sherry: "Anything else? Any new developments at the Privy Council meeting?"

Ridley chuckled. "I heard that the Viscount Melbourne apparently shed tears at the Privy Council meeting."

"Tears?" Arthur took a sip of sherry, and whether it was something wrong with his taste buds or not, he thought the drink was a bit salty. "Crocodiles don't shed tears."

Ridley pretended not to understand Arthur's sarcasm and said, "Yesterday I saw Viscount Melbourne leaving Her Majesty's first Privy Council meeting while wiping away tears. He looked extremely moved."

Arthur thought about it for a moment, but didn't try to guess that Viscount Melbourne had ulterior motives.

After all, he had heard before that the prime minister often shed tears in private, and even if he had ulterior motives this time, it wouldn't affect the overall situation.

Is there anything else?

“Of course, although I suspect the Viscount Melbourne’s tears were tears of emotion.” Ryder paused for a moment, “However, some people think he might also have been crying from anger.”

"He cried from anger?" Arthur pondered for a long time, but couldn't figure out who would deliberately cause trouble on such a day, to provoke the Prime Minister. "What happened? Who offended him?"

Ridley began awkwardly, “It was Sir John Conroy. When the Viscount Melbourne left, he was carrying a letter from Conroy. I heard from His Excellency Henry Hobhouse that after the Privy Council meeting, Conroy blocked the Prime Minister's path, demanding an award, saying something like, ‘The reward for my merits over the years, I believe, should be: a proper noble title, the red ribbon of the Order of the Bath, and an annual pension of £3000 from the Royal Treasury.’ You know, that pension even exceeds that of a Cabinet minister. When the Viscount Melbourne came out, he cried out to His Excellency Henry Hobhouse, ‘Have you ever heard of such a shameless person?’”

(End of this chapter)