spoken of separately, for it was something peculiar to himself. He saw
through Art into what, in its highest form, it expressed—the beautiful.
He cared not so much for a close representation of the things of daily
life, as for that ideal world which Art shadows forth, and interprets to
mankind. Hence his love for many a picture which might not be a
masterpiece of drawing or of colouring, but which had tenderness and
reverence in it, and told of something that was remote from common life,
and high and holy.
Joined with this longing for an interpretation of the ideal, there was
in the Prince a love of Art for itself—a pleasure in the skilful
execution of a design, whether executed by himself or others. He was no
mean artist, and his knowledge of Art stretched forth into various
directions. But this was not the remarkable point. There have been other
Princes who have been artists. It was in his love of Art—in his keen
perception of what Art could do, and of what was its highest
province—that he excelled many men who were distinguished artists
themselves, and had given their lives to the cultivation of Art.
[Sidenote: Skill in organization.] Again, there was the Prince’s skill
in organization, that almost amounted to an art, which he showed in all
the work he touched, and in everything he advised upon.
It may, therefore, justly be said that the Prince approached the highest
realms of Art in various ways, which are seldom combined in any one
person: in his fondness for what is romantic and ideal, in his love of
skill and handicraft, and in his uniform desire for masterly
organization.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: What the Prince did for agri-culture.] In distinguishing the
various branches of Art which the Prince devoted himself to, and loved
to further, Agriculture must be particularly mentioned, not only on
account of the great interest he took in it, and of the practical skill
he brought to it, but because of the felicitous results which followed
upon his enterprises in this department. As regards works of High Art,
it is not much that the wisest Prince, or the most judicious patron, can
do to further them. They depend upon the existence, at any particular
period, of men or women of genius; and the production of such works lies
in a region which is beyond and above the patronage even of the most
judicious patrons. But it is not so with Agriculture; and the Prince
might fairly lay claim to having himself done much towards that
improvement in agriculture which, happily for this country, has been so
marked and so rapid within the last twenty years. Men are always much
influenced by what their superiors in station do. And that the Prince
should have been one of the first persons in this country to appreciate
the merits of Deep Drainage, to employ Steam Power in cultivation (a
power which does not require to be fed when it is put by in its stable
after the day’s work), and to apply the resources of Chemistry to
Practical Agriculture, ensured the welcome consequence that there would
be many followers where the foremost man of England was anxious and
ready to lead the way. That, with a large breadth of the lands of Great
Britain partially tilled, or scarcely cultivated at all, the British
Nation should not unfrequently have to expend twenty or thirty millions
of money in foreign corn, is a reproach against our practical sagacity,
in which the Prince at least can have no share of the blame.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: The Prince too much interested in too many things.] It has
been said that, if we knew any man’s life intimately, there would be
some great and peculiar moral to be derived from it—some tendency to be
noted, which other men, observing it in his career, might seek to
correct in themselves. I cannot help thinking that I see what may be the
moral to be derived from a study of the Prince’s life. It is one which
applies only to a few amongst the highest natures; and, simply stated,
it is this—that he cared too much about too many things.
[Sidenote: His craving for perfection.] Moreover, everything in which he
was concerned must be done supremely well if it was to please and
satisfy him. The great German, Goethe, had the same defect, or rather
the same superabundance. He would take inordinate pains even in writing
a short note, that it should be admirably written. He did not understand
the merit of second-best; but everything that was to be done must be
done perfectly. It was thus with the Prince. In the choice of a jewel,
in the placing of a statue, in the laying out of a walk, in the
direction of a party of pleasure, his reasoning mind must be satisfied;
and he longed that everything that was to be, should be the best of its
kind.
[Sidenote: Strain upon the health.] Now men of this nature, with an
abiding aspiration towards what is beautiful, and such an inordinate
appreciation of what is reasonable, require also to have an
extraordinary stock of health,[1] otherwise they make extravagant
demands upon their powers of thought and attention, and thus upon the
primary elements of life.
Footnote 1:
And the Prince had very good health. At any rate he had begun with a
fine constitution. Every one of the chief organs of life was well
developed in him, with the exception of a heart that was not quite
equal to the work put upon it; so that he mostly had but a feeble
pulse. It was upon the nervous energy that this constant stress of
work, and this striving after excellence in everything, must have
told, as such demands do tell upon all men of that high nature.
The man who insists upon having a good reason for everything he thinks
and does, has set himself a task which it requires almost superhuman
energy to master. With a boundless appetite for knowledge, the Prince
declined to be superficial in anything; and whatever question was
brought to him, he set to work at it with a resolution to give his best
attention to solve it. All men, when they find such a mind to lean upon,
delight to bring their difficulties to it; and in the Prince’s case his
extraordinary good nature and prompt sympathy forbade him to ignore any
question which interested his fellow-men. I cannot help thinking that,
but for this peculiarity in his nature—a peculiarity which, regret it as
we may, we cannot but love and admire—he would have lived for many years
longer, to be, as he had always been, the worthiest and ablest supporter
of the Throne, and the foremost advocate of all that held out a promise
of increasing the welfare of the people.
It may here be well to remind the reader that the Prince was only
forty-two years of age when he died; and that the sagacity and prudence
for which he gained a just renown, were manifested at an age when many
other men, even of the brightest sort, are far from showing maturity of
judgment. This early death, too, makes the great amount of knowledge
that he had acquired all the more extraordinary. And, altogether, we may
say that seldom has there been compressed into a life more of thought,
energy, and anxious care, than was crowded into his. His death appears
especially premature at a period when we are accustomed to have great
soldiers, lawyers, and statesmen distinguishing themselves, and almost
showing new faculties, after they have reached the threescore years and
ten so pathetically spoken of by the Psalmist. If the Prince had lived
to attain what we now think a good old age, he would inevitably have
become the most accomplished statesman and the most guiding personage in
Europe—a man to whose arbitrement fierce national quarrels might have
been submitted, and by whose influence calamitous wars might have been
averted.
* * * * *
So subtly are men constituted, and so difficult is it, even from a
careful enumeration [Sidenote: The gentleness of the Prince.] of their
qualities, to get at the result of their nature, and to understand the
men themselves, that it would be possible, notwithstanding all that has
been justly said in praise of the Prince, that he might still have
failed to be a very loveable character. You meet with people against
whom nothing in dispraise can well be urged, and for whom high-sounding
panegyrics might justly be written, who yet are not pleasant, amiable,
or loveable. It was not so, however, with the Prince. The mere
enumeration of his high qualities and his good tendencies would fail to
give a just representation of his peculiarly gentle, tender, and
pathetic cast of mind. Indeed this kind of character is rather German
than English, and had always been much noted as a prevailing character
in the Prince’s family. Though eminently practical, and therefore suited
to the people he came to dwell amongst, he had in a high degree that
gentleness, that softness, and that romantic nature, which belong to his
race and his nation, and which make them very pleasant to live with, and
very tender in all their social and family relations.
[Sidenote: The abiding youthfulness of men of genius possessed by him.]
Finally there was in the Prince a quality which I think may be noticed
as belonging to most men of genius and of mark. I mean a certain
childlike simplicity. It is noticed of such men that, mentally speaking,
they do not grow old like other men. There is always a playfulness about
them, a certain innocency of character, and a power of taking interest
in what surrounds them, which we naturally associate with the beauty of
youthfulness. It is a pity to use a foreign word if one can help it, but
it illustrates the character of such men to say that they never can
become “_blasés_.” Those who had the good fortune to know the Prince,
will, I am sure, admit the truth of this remark as applied to him; and
will agree in the opinion that neither disaster, sickness, nor any other
form of human adversity, would have been able to harden his receptive
nature, or deaden his soul to the wide-spread interests of humanity. He
would always have been young in heart; and a great proof of this was his
singular attractiveness to all those about him who were young.
One gift that the Prince possessed, which tended to make him a favourite
with the young, was his peculiar aptitude for imparting knowledge.
Indeed, the skill he showed in explaining anything, whether addressed to
the young or the old, ensured the readiest attention; and it would not
be easy to find, even among the first Professors and Teachers of this
age, any one who could surpass the Prince in giving, in the fewest
words, and with the least use of technical terms, a lucid account of
some difficult matter in science which he had mastered—mastered not only
for himself, but for all others who had the advantage of listening to
him.
The one of his children who was most capable of judging of what his
conduct had been to all his children as a father and a friend, speaks
thus of him:—
“But in no relation of life did the goodness and greatness of his
character appear more than in the management of his children. The most
judicious, impartial, and loving of fathers, he was at once the friend
and master, ever by his example enforcing the precepts he sought to
instil.”
The Prince’s marriage was singularly [Sidenote: The Prince’s marriage.]
felicitous. The tastes, the aims, the hopes, the aspirations of the
Royal Pair were the same. Their mutual respect and confidence went on
increasing. Their affection grew, if possible, even warmer and more
intense as the years of their married life advanced. Companions in their
domestic employments, in their daily labours for the State, and, indeed,
in almost every occupation,—the burthens and the difficulties of life
were thus lessened more than by half for each one of the persons thus
happily united in this true marriage of the soul. When the fatal blow
was struck, and the Prince was removed from this world, it is difficult
to conceive a position of greater sorrow, and one, indeed, more utterly
forlorn, than that which became the lot of the Survivor—deprived of him
whom She Herself has described as being the “Life of Her Life.”
To follow out his wishes—to realize his hopes—to conduct his enterprizes
to a happy issue—to make his loss as little felt as possible by a
sorrowing country and fatherless children:—these are the objects which,
since his death, it has been the chief aim and intent of Her Majesty to
accomplish. That strength may be given her to fulfil these high
purposes, is the constant prayer of her subjects, who have not ceased,
from the first moment of her bereavement, to feel the tenderest sympathy
for her; and who, giving a reality to that which in the case of most
Sovereigns is but a phrase, have thus shown that the Queen is indeed, in
their hearts, the Mother of her people.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: How the Prince was mourned for.] It is a matter of history
that, at the untimely end of the Prince, the sorrow of the whole nation
went with him to his grave. That was due to his great public qualities:
but, within a narrower circle, the endearing qualities of his nature
called forth a deeper anguish and a more abiding affliction. Never was
there a man more mourned by his family, by his friends, by those of his
household, and by all persons who had come into contact or connection
with him. This is perhaps the most favourable trait, the most undeniable
proof of goodness and of greatness of heart, that can be brought forward
of any man; for though we read upon tombstones of the undying regret of
family and friends, it is in reality given to few amongst the sons of
men to leave a blank in the lives of many other persons, which refuses
to be filled up—a fond and passionate regret which may be soothed, but
which, in their devoted hearts, can never be effaced.
--------------
NOTE.
It must be obvious to the reader of this Introduction that the
writer has received the most valuable and important aid from
those who, by their constant intercourse with the Prince
Consort, could best appreciate the high qualities which shone
forth in his domestic life—from persons in the Royal Household
who saw him daily—from Members of the Royal Family—and
especially from the Queen Herself. To Her Majesty the writer is
indebted for a view of the Prince’s character in which a loving
and profound appreciation is combined with the most earnest
desire for exact truth and faithfulness. There is not any one
who could have been cognizant of all the various traits of the
Prince enumerated in this Introduction, unless he had been
instructed by Her, who alone saw, with the full light of a
complete affection, into the whole beauty and merit of the
character of this remarkable Man.
LONDON,
_October, 1862_.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE OFFICE
OF
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.
The foregoing is simply an Introduction to the Prince Consort’s
Speeches, with some outlines of the Prince’s character. It is in no
respect meant to anticipate the publication of his Life; and,
consequently, no documents have been inserted, or even alluded to, which
would be required for the illustration of that life.
One exception, however, to this rule the Queen has graciously consented
to make. Amongst the manuscripts left by the Prince, there is a
memorandum in his own handwriting on a subject of great importance in
itself. But now, alas! the memorandum is of more importance still, as
illustrating, in a remarkable manner, the Prince’s character and
conduct. In this document he clearly defines his own position, and lays
out as it were the main scheme and purpose of his life. His words on
this occasion are like a lamp raised up high on a vessel, which casts
long lines of light upon the waves before and after, showing the course
which has been passed over, and that which will be passed over, as the
ship speeds right onwards through the dark waters of the uncertain sea.
* * * * *
In the Introduction a character has been drawn, which might be cavilled
at from its having so much that is bright in it, and so little that
affords any contrast whatever of darkness. The Prince is there depicted
as a most self-denying man. Those who lived with him knew that it was
so; they knew that the habit of self-denial pervaded his whole life. But
it might be difficult for the rest of the world to be assured of the
full extent of this self-denial.
After reading the document in question, there will no longer be any
doubt upon this point. It can hardly be imagined that anything could be
more tempting to a young man, placed as the Prince was, than to have
almost within his grasp such a grand and distinct position as that of
the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. Throughout the memorandum it
is evident that the Prince felt the temptation deeply while he abjured
it. It was not the cold refusal of a person indifferent to what was
offered to him; but it was the stern self-sacrifice of one who,
abounding in noble ambition, would dearly like to take the honour and
the labour which he feels it his duty to decline.
The circumstances portrayed in the memorandum are very dramatic, and are
exceedingly interesting, if only on that account. We cannot but picture
to ourselves the tender wife already but too justly anxious for her
Consort’s health; the aged Duke, with his well-known and long-tried
devotion to the Throne, urging, in his decided manner, upon the Prince
the acceptance of this much-coveted post; and the Prince modestly and
decisively putting it from him as a thing he must not have. There was
wisdom in the motives which led the old warrior and statesman to make
the proposal. But there was a higher wisdom in those of the young Prince
who steadily refused to entertain the offer: a wisdom not proceeding
from a nice perception of what was safe for self-interest, or from a
skilful balancing of consequences, but from an instinct of goodness
cultivated by chivalry into the highest self-devotion.
The resolution which the Prince announces in this memorandum—to sink his
own individual existence in that of the Queen—had long been acted upon
by him even then, and was never afterwards departed from. It was not
repented of: it gave a colour to his whole career: it sustained him in
long days of wearisome, commonplace labour: it became a part of his
being; and he never surrendered it but with his last breath.
Many a reader of the foregoing Introduction, not having met with
anything like the Prince’s character in ordinary life, might naturally
imagine it to have been drawn by too partial a hand. But this thought
will vanish, when he sees the Prince unconsciously depicted by himself,
and thus learns, from undoubted authority, what was the object, what the
meaning, and what the settled purpose of his well-spent life.
* * * * *
In allowing this Memorandum of the Prince to be published, the Queen is
also actuated by another motive in addition to those which have already
been mentioned. It affords Her Majesty a fitting opportunity for
expressing, in the most clear and ample manner, that which for many
years she has desired to express. During the Prince’s life, the Queen
often longed to make known to the world the ever-present, watchful,
faithful, invaluable aid which she received from the Prince Consort in
the conduct of the public business. Her Majesty could hardly endure even
then to be silent on this subject, and not to declare how much her Reign
owed to him. And now the Queen can no longer refrain from uttering what
she has so long felt, and from proclaiming the irreparable loss to the
public service, as well as to herself and to her family, which the
Prince’s death has occasioned.
The position of Her Majesty, for many years accustomed to this loving
aid, and now suddenly bereft of it, can with difficulty be imagined to
the full extent of its heaviness and its sadness. Desolate and sombre,
as the Queen most deeply feels, lies the way before her;—a path,
however, of duty and of labour, which, relying on the loyal attachment
and sympathy of her people, she will, with God’s blessing, strive to
pursue; but where she fears her faltering steps will often show they
lack the tender and affectionate support which, on all occasions, Her
Majesty was wont to receive from her beloved husband, the Prince.
* * * * *
The circumstances which preceded the drawing up of this Memorandum by
the Prince, are as follows:—
On the death of Sir J. Macdonald, the Adjutant-General, in
March, 1850, a suggestion was made to amalgamate the two offices
of Adjutant and Quartermaster-General under a single head, to be
called Chief of the Staff. The Duke of Wellington was in
consequence summoned to Windsor, and several conversations
ensued, in the course of which the Duke proposed that
arrangements should be made with a view to the Prince’s
ultimately succeeding himself as Commander-in-Chief.[2]
Footnote 2:
The circumstances narrated above, and the conduct of the
Prince Consort upon them, were related by Earl Russell very
succinctly and accurately in his speech in the House of
Commons, Jan. 31, 1854.
The following are extracts from the minutes made by the Prince of those
conversations, as far as they related to that proposal:—
Windsor Castle, April 3, 1850.
I went yesterday to see the Duke of Wellington in his room
after his arrival at the Castle, our conversation soon turning
to the question of the vacant Adjutant-Generalship. I asked the
Duke what he was prepared to recommend. He said he had had a
letter on the subject recommending the union of the two offices
of Adjutant-General and Quartermaster-General, and he placed his
answer to it in my hands. He then proceeded to say that he
thought it necessary that we should cast our eyes a little
before us. He was past 80 years, and would next month enter upon
his 82nd. He was, thank God! very well and strong, and ready to
do anything; but he could not last for ever, and in the natural
course of events we must look to a change ere long. As long as
he was there, he did the duty of all the offices himself.... To
form a new office by uniting the duties of Adjutant-General and
Quartermaster-General in the person of a Chief of the Staff, as
was the practice in some foreign armies, would be to appoint two
different persons to do the same duty, which would never answer.
The Chief of the Staff would again have to subdivide his office
into an Adjutant-General and Quartermaster-General’s Department,
and nothing would be gained.
However, the Duke saw the greatest advantage in having a Chief
of the Staff, if, after his death, that arrangement should be
made which he had always looked to, and which he considered the
best, viz. _that I should assume the command of the army_.
He was sure I could not do it without such a Chief of the Staff,
who would be responsible before the public, and carry on the
official communications with the other Government Departments.
For this contingency he was prepared to organize the machinery
now, and he would answer for its success....
I answered to the Duke that I should be very slow to make up my
mind to undertake so great a responsibility—that I was not sure
of my fitness for it, on account of my want of military
experience, &c. (to which the Duke replied, that with good
honest intentions one could do a great deal, and that he should
not be the least afraid on that score)—whether I could perform
the duties consistently with my other avocations, as I should
not like to undertake what I could not carry through, not
knowing what time or attention they would require.