tions. He continued in his letters his admirable advice. Within a few days of her accession, he recommended the young Queen to lay emphasis, on every possible occasion, upon her English birth; to praise the English nation; "the Established Church I also recommend strongly; you cannot, without pledging yourself to anything particular, say too much on the subject." And then "before you decide on anything important I should be glad if you would consult me; this would also have the advantage of giving you time;" nothing was more injurious than to be hurried into wrong decisions unawares. His niece replied at once with all the accustomed warmth of her affection; but she wrote hurriedly—and, perhaps, a trifle vaguely too. "Your advice is always of the greatest importance to me," she said.[1]
Had he, possibly, gone too far? He could not be certain; perhaps Victoria had been hurried. In any case, he would be careful; he would draw back—pour mieux sauter, he added to himself with a smile. In his next letters he made no reference to his suggestion of consultations with himself; he merely pointed out the wisdom, in general, of refusing to decide upon important questions off-hand. So far, his advice was taken; and it
- ↑ Letters, I, 79.
