throne from the breath of scandal, the Prince laid down for himself a line of conduct which must have been very irksome through the degree to which it infringed his personal freedom. He never went anywhere alone. He was always accompanied by his equerry. He felt he must only be irreproachable, but be able to produce witnesses, if necessary, to prove that he was so. Mr. Anson, the Prince's secretary, says that it was remarked to him in 1842, "by a keen observer of character and by no means a good-natured one" (possibly Greville), "that it was most remarkable that the Prince should have been now nearly two years in his most difficult position, and had never given cause for one word to be said against him in any respect."
The idle apprentice very often has something to say not altogether to the credit of the industrious apprentice; and men have to be forgiven their good qualities almost as often as their bad. There were not wanting those who were ready to say that the Prince was—if not a milksop—at any rate wanting in manliness; and it is rather amusing to find that he did himself (1843) more good, as far as popularity in society was concerned, by proving himself a bold rider to hounds, in the Leicestershire country, than he had done by years of prudence, caution, and self-effacement.
The difficulties of the Prince's position were minimized by the generous confidence and unbounded affection with which the Queen regarded him. He at once became, and remained till death parted them, what she herself called her "dearest Life in Life." She associated him with herself in all State business that was not strictly ceremonial. The courtiers quickly appreciated the significance of the fact that the Queen delighted to honor and elevate him. Her partiality for the Whigs became a thing of the past.
