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s to the artists； indicating at the same time how they might be corrected。 The artists invariably discovered that Her Majesty's suggestions were of the highest value。 In literature her interests were more restricted。 She was devoted to Lord Tennyson； and； as the Prince Consort had admired George Eliot； she perused 〃Middlemarch：〃 she was disappointed。 There is reason to believe； however； that the romances of another female writer； whose popularity among the humbler classes of Her Majesty's subjects was at one time enormous； secured； no less； the approval of Her Majesty。 Otherwise she did not read very much。
Once； however； the Queen's attention was drawn to a publication which it was impossible for her to ignore。 〃The Greville Memoirs；〃 filled with a mass of historical information of extraordinary importance； but filled also with descriptions； which were by no means flattering； of George IV； William IV； and other royal persons； was brought out by Mr。 Reeve。 Victoria read the book； and was appalled。 It was； she declared； a 〃dreadful and really scandalous book；〃 and she could not say 〃how HORRIFIED and INDIGNANT〃 she was at Greville's 〃indiscretion； indelicacy； ingratitude towards friends； betrayal of confidence and shameful disloyalty towards his Sovereign。〃 She wrote to Disraeli to tell him that in her opinion it was 〃VERY IMPORTANT that the book should be severely censured and discredited。〃 〃The tone in which he speaks of royalty；〃 she added； 〃is unlike anything one sees in history even； and is most reprehensible。〃 Her anger was directed with almost equal vehemence against Mr。 Reeve for his having published 〃such an abominable book；〃 and she charged Sir Arthur Helps to convey to him her deep displeasure。 Mr。 Reeve； however； was impenitent。 When Sir Arthur told him that； in the Queen's opinion； 〃the book degraded royalty；〃 he replied： 〃Not at all； it elevates it by the contrast it offers between the present and the defunct state of affairs。〃 But this adroit defence failed to make any impression upon Victoria； and Mr。 Reeve； when he retired from the public service； did not receive the knighthood which custom entitled him to expect。 Perhaps if the Queen had known how many caustic comments upon herself Mr。 Reeve had quietly suppressed in the published Memoirs； she would have been almost grateful to him； but； in that case； what would she have said of Greville？ Imagination boggles at the thought。 As for more modern essays upon the same topic； Her Majesty； it is to be feared； would have characterised them as 〃not discreet。〃
But as a rule the leisure hours of that active life were occupied with recreations of a less intangible quality than the study of literature or the appreciation of art。 Victoria was a woman not only of vast property but of innumerable possessions。 She had inherited an immense quantity of furniture； of ornaments； of china； of plate； of valuable objects of every kind； her purchases； throughout a long life； made a formidable addition to these stores； and there flowed in upon her； besides； from every quarter of the globe； a constant stream of gifts。 Over this enormous mass she exercised an unceasing and minute supervision； and the arrangement and the contemplation of it； in all its details； filled her with an intimate satisfaction。 The collecting instinct has its roots in the very depths of human nature； and； in the case of Victoria； it seemed to owe its force to two of her dominating impulsesthe intense sense； which had always been hers； of her own personality； and the craving which； growing with the years； had become in her old age almost an obsession； for fixity； for solidity； for the setting up of palpable barriers against the outrages of change and time。 When she considered the multitudinous objects which belonged to her； or； better still； when； choosing out some section of them as the fancy took her； she actually savoured the vivid richness of their individual qualities； she saw herself deliciously reflected from a million facets； felt herself magnified miraculously over a boundless area； and was well pleased。 That was just as it should be； but then came the dismaying thoughteverything slips away； crumbles； vanishes； Sevres dinner…services get broken； even golden basins go unaccountably astray； even one's self； with all the recollections and experiences that make up one's being； fluctuates； perishes； dissolves。。。 But no！ It could not； should not be so！ There should be no changes and no losses！ Nothing should ever moveneither the past nor the presentand she herself least of all！ And so the tenacious woman； hoarding her valuables； decreed their immortality with all the resolution of her soul。 She would not lose one memory or one pin。
She gave orders that nothing should be thrown awayand nothing was。 There； in drawer after drawer； in wardrobe after wardrobe； reposed the dresses of seventy years。 But not only the dresses the furs and the mantles and subsidiary frills and the muffs and the parasols and the bonnetsall were ranged in chronological order； dated and complete。 A great cupboard was devoted to the dolls； in the china room at Windsor a special table held the mugs of her childhood； and her children's mugs as well。 Mementoes of the past surrounded her in serried accumulations。 In every room the tables were powdered thick with the photographs of relatives； their portraits； revealing them at all ages； covered the walls； their figures； in solid marble； rose up from pedestals； or gleamed from brackets in the form of gold and silver statuettes。 The dead； in every shapein miniatures； in porcelain； in enormous life…size oil…paintingswere perpetually about her。 John Brown stood upon her writing…table in solid gold。 Her favourite horses and dogs； endowed with a new durability； crowded round her footsteps。 Sharp； in silver gilt； dominated the dinner table； Boy and Boz lay together among unfading flowers； in bronze。 And it was not enough that each particle of the past should be given the stability of metal or of marble： the whole collection； in its arrangement； no less than its entity； should be immutably fixed。 There might be additions； but there might never be alterations。 No chintz might change； no carpet； no curtain； be replaced by another； or； if long use at last made it necessary； the stuffs and the patterns must be so identically reproduced that the keenest eye might not detect the difference。 No new picture could be hung upon the walls at Windsor； for those already there had been put in their places by Albert； whose decisions were eternal。 So； indeed； were Victoria's。 To ensure that they should be the aid of the camera was called in。 Every single article in the Queen's possession was photographed from several points of view。 These photographs were submitted to Her Majesty； and when； after careful inspection； she had approved of them； they were placed in a series of albums； richly bound。 Then； opposite each photograph； an entry was made； indicating the number of the article； the number of the room in which it was kept； its exact position in the room and all its principal characteristics。 The fate of every object which had undergone this process was henceforth irrevocably sealed。 The whole multitude； once and for all； took up its steadfast station。 And Victoria； with a gigantic volume or two of the endless catalogue always beside her； to look through； to ponder upon； to expatiate over； could feel； with a double contentment； that the transitoriness of this world had been arrested by the amplitude of her might。
Thus the collection； ever multiplying； ever encroaching upon new fields of consciousness； ever rooting itself more firmly in the depths of instinct； became one of the dominating influences of that strange existence。 It was a collection not merely of things and of thoughts； but of states of mind and ways of living as well。 The celebration of anniversaries grew to be an important branch of itof birthdays and marriage days and death days； each of which demanded its appropriate feeling； which； in its turn； must be itself expressed in an appropriate outward form。 And the form； of coursethe ceremony of rejoicing or lamentationwas stereotyped with the rest： it was part of the collection。 On a certain day； for instance； flowers must be strewn on John Brown's monument at Balmoral； and the date of the yearly departure for Scotland was fixed by that fact。 Inevitably it was around the central circumstance of deathdeath； the final witness to human mutabilitythat these commemorative cravings clustered most thickly。 Might not even death itself be humbled； if one could recall enoughif one asserted； with a sufficiently passionate and reiterated emphasis； the eternity of love？ Accordingly； every bed in which Victoria slept had attached to it； at the back； on the right…hand side； above the pillow； a photograph of the head and shoulders of Albert as he lay dead； surmounted by a wreath of immortelles。 At Balmoral； where memories came crowding so closely； the solid signs of memory appeared in surprising profusion。 Obelisks； pyramids； tombs； statues； cairns； and seats of inscribed granite； proclaimed Victoria's dedication to the dead。 There； twice a year； on the days that followed her arrival； a solemn pilgrimage of inspection and me