THE LATE PRINCE CONSORT.
“Suum cuique.”
Count Mensdorf mentions to the Duke of Wellington his wish to see the
Difference Engine — An appointment made — Prince Albert expresses his
intention of accompanying his uncle — Time of appointment altered
— Their visit, accompanied by the Duke of Wellington — Portrait of
Jacquard — Anecdote of Wilkie — Afghanistan arms — Extract from the
Author’s work on the Exhibition of 1862.
I have had one opportunity of fairly estimating some portion of the
character of the late justly-lamented Prince Consort; to this I will
now venture to allude.
In 1842 Count Mensdorf visited London. A few days after I had a note
from the late Duke of Wellington, in which he informed me that on the
previous evening he had met at the palace the Queen’s uncle, Count
Mensdorf, who had expressed to the Duke his wish to see my Calculating
Engine. The Duke then inquired whether I could conveniently make some
arrangement for that purpose. I immediately wrote to the Duke, that if
he would appoint an hour on any morning of the ensuing week, I should
have great pleasure in showing and explaining the Difference Engine
to Count Mensdorf. It was afterwards arranged that on the following
Tuesday, at two o’clock, Count Mensdorf and the Duke should pay me a
visit in Dorset Street. On Monday {169} morning I received another
note from the Duke, informing me that Prince Albert had expressed his
intention to accompany Count Mensdorf in the proposed visit, and that
it would be more convenient if the hour were changed to one instead of
two o’clock.
I must freely admit that I did not greatly rejoice at this addition to
the party. I resolved, however, strictly to perform the duties thus
thrown upon me as a host, as well as all those to which Prince Albert
was entitled by his elevated position.
〈THE WOVEN PORTRAIT.〉
Before I took the Prince into the fire-proof building in which the
Difference Engine was then deposited, I asked his Royal Highness to
allow me to show him a portrait of Jacquard, which was at that time
hanging up in my drawing-room, as it would greatly assist in explaining
the nature of Calculating Machines.
When we had arrived in front of the portrait, I pointed it out as
the object to which I solicited the Prince’s attention. “Oh! that
engraving?” remarked the Duke of Wellington. “No!” said Prince Albert
to the Duke; “it is not an engraving.” I felt for a moment very great
surprise; but this was changed into a much more agreeable feeling, when
the Prince instantly added, “I have seen it before.” I felt at once
that the Prince was a “good man and true,” and I resolved that I would
not confine myself to the rigid rules of etiquette, but that I would
help him with all my heart in whatever line his inquiries might be
directed.
The portrait of Jacquard was, in fact, a sheet of woven silk, framed
and glazed, but looking so perfectly like an engraving, that it had
been mistaken for such by two members of the Royal Academy.
〈WILKIE’S CONJECTURE.〉
A short time after I became possessed of this beautiful work of
art, I met Wilkie, and invited him to come and see {170} my recent
acquisition. He called on me one morning. I placed him at a short
distance in front of the portrait, which he admired greatly. I then
asked him what he thought it was. He answered, “An engraving!” On which
I asked, “Of what kind?” To this he replied, “Line-engraving, to be
sure!” I drew him a little nearer. He then mentioned another style of
engraving. At last, having placed Wilkie close to the portrait, he
said, after a considerable pause, “Can it be lithography?”
A splendid collection of arms from Afghanistan, recently sent to me
from India by Sir Edward Ryan, was lying on the tables in one of the
rooms we passed through. These had attracted the notice of the Prince,
and on returning, the whole party examined them with the greatest
interest
I now conducted my visitors to the fire-proof building in which
the Difference Engine was placed. Prince Albert was, I understood,
sufficiently acquainted with the higher departments of mathematical
science to appreciate the influence of such an instrument on its future
progress. But the circumstance that charmed me was—his bearing towards
his uncle, Count Mensdorf. It was perfectly natural: it could be felt,
admired, and honoured—but not described.
When the sad fact of the nation’s loss became known to me, I
immediately reverted with some anxiety to a work I had published ten
years before on the Exhibition of 1851. I feared lest, in speaking
of that event, I might have committed some injustice, whilst I was
indignant at that under which I was myself suffering. I willingly
reprint it here because it contained no empty words of flattery; but
analysed the reasons which commanded our respect.
“The merit of the original conception of the present {171} Exposition
[1851] is insignificant in comparison with that of the efforts by
which it was carried out, and with the importance of its practical
results.
“To have seen from afar its effects on the improvement, the wealth,
and the happiness of the people—to have seized the fit moment,
when, by the right use of the influence of an exalted station,
it was _possible_ to overcome the deeply-rooted prejudices of
the upper classes—to remove the still more formidable, because
latent, impediments of party—generously to have undertaken great
responsibility, and with indefatigable labour to have endeavoured to
make the best out of the only materials at hand,—these are endowments
of no ordinary kind.
“To move in any rank of society an exception to its general rules,
is a very difficult, and if accompanied by the consciousness of the
situation, a very painful position to a reflecting mind.
〈PENALTIES OF EXALTED STATION.〉
“Whatever may be the cause—whether exalted rank, unbounded wealth,
surpassing beauty or unrivalled wit, the renown of daring deeds, the
magic of a world-wide fame—to all within those narrow limits the
dangers and the penalties are great. Each exists an isolated spirit;
each unconsciously imprisoned within its crystal globe perceives the
colours of all external objects modified by those tints imparted to
them by its own surrounding sphere. No change of view can teach it to
rectify this partial judgment; throughout its earthward course the
same undying rainbow attends to the last its parent drop.
〈ITS SYMPATHIES.〉
“Rarely indeed can some deep-searching mind, after long comparison,
perceive the real colours of those translucent shells which encompass
kindred spirits; and thus at length enable him to achromatise the
medium which surrounds his {172} own. To one who has thus rectified
the “colour-blindness” of his intellectual vision, how deep the
sympathy he feels for those still involved in that hopeless obscurity
from which he has himself escaped. None can so justly appreciate
that sense of loneliness, that solitude of mind, which surrounds
unquestioned eminence on its lofty throne;—none, therefore, can make
so large an allowance for its errors;—none so skilfully assist in
guiding its hazardous career.”
{173}