Within a month of the accession, the realities of {54} the new situation assumed a visible shape. The whole royal household moved from Kensington to Buckingham Palace, and, in the new abode, the Duchess of Kent was given a suite of apartments entirely separate from the Queen's. By Victoria herself the change was welcomed, though, at the moment of departure, she could afford to be sentimental. 'Though I rejoice to go into B.P. for many reasons,' she wrote in her diary, 'it is not without feelings of regret that I shall bid adieu _for ever_ to this my birthplace, where I have been born and bred, and to which I am really attached!' Her memory lingered for a moment over visions of the past: her sister's wedding, pleasant balls and _delicious_ concerts ... and there were other recollections. 'I have gone through painful and disagreeable scenes here, 'tis true,' she concluded, 'but still I am fond of the poor old palace.'[6] At the same time she took another decided step. She had determined that she would see no more of Sir John Conroy. She rewarded his past services with liberality: he was given a baronetcy and a pension of £3000 a year; he remained a member of the Duchess's household, but his personal intercourse with the Queen came to an abrupt conclusion.[7] II It was clear that these interior changes--whatever else they might betoken--marked the triumph of one person--the Baroness Lehzen. The pastor's daughter observed the ruin of her enemies. Discreet and victorious, she remained in possession of the field. More closely than ever did she cleave to the side of her {55} mistress, her pupil, and her friend; and in the recesses of the palace her mysterious figure was at once invisible and omnipresent. When the Queen's Ministers came in at one door, the Baroness went out by another; when they retired, she immediately returned.[8] Nobody knew--nobody ever will know--the precise extent and the precise nature of her influence. She herself declared that she never discussed public affairs with the Queen, that she was concerned with private matters only--with private letters and the details of private life.[9] Certainly her hand is everywhere discernible in Victoria's early correspondence. The Journal is written in the style of a child; the Letters are not so simple; they are the work of a child, rearranged--with the minimum of alteration, no doubt, and yet perceptibly--by a governess. And the governess was no fool: narrow, jealous, provincial, she might be; but she was an acute and vigorous woman, who had gained, by a peculiar insight, a peculiar ascendancy. That ascendancy she meant to keep. No doubt it was true that technically she took no part in public business; but the distinction between what is public and what is private is always a subtle one; and in the case of a reigning sovereign--as the next few years were to show--it is often imaginary. Considering all things--the