In general, her æsthetic tastes had remained unchanged since the days of Mendelssohn, Landseer, and Lablache. She still delighted in the roulades of Italian opera; she still demanded a high standard in the execution of a pianoforte duet. Her views on painting were decided; Sir Edwin, she declared, was perfect; she was much impressed by Lord Leighton's manners; and she profoundly distrusted Mr. Watts. From time to time she ordered engraved portraits to be taken of members of the royal family; on these occasions she would have the first proofs submitted to her, and, having inspected them with minute particularity, she would point out their mistakes 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 {290} 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.[23] 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 {291} 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.[24] Perhaps if the Queen had known how many caustic comments upon herself Mr. Reeve had