And again, as a companion and worthy picture—which is none the less, but all the more, worthy of hanging along with that we have just presented, that the great truth it teaches is presented with such lucid simplicity—take these sentences explanatory of the scope and end of such institutions as the British Association for the Advancement of Science, delivered by him as its President, at the 1859 Congress at Aberdeen:—
THE PRINCE’S EULOGY ON HUMBOLDT.
If the activity of this Association ever found, or could find its personification in one individual—its incarnation as it were—this had been found in that distinguished and revered philosopher who has been removed from amongst us in his ninetieth year, within the last few months. Alexander Von Humboldt ever strove after dominion over that universality of human knowledge which stands in need of thoughtful government and direction to preserve its integrity. He strove to tie up the fasces of scientific knowledge, to give them strength in unity. He treated all scientific men as members of one family, enthusiastically directing, fostering, and encouraging inquiry, where he saw either the want of or the willingness for it. His protection of the young and ardent student led many to success in their pursuits. His personal influence with the courts and governments of most countries in Europe, enabled him to plead the cause of science in a manner which made it more difficult to refuse than to grant what he requested. All lovers of Science deeply mourn for the loss of such a man. Gentlemen, it is a singular coincidence, that this very day on which we are here assembled, and are thus giving expression to our admiration of him, should be the anniversary of his birth.
The Queen, who was staying at Balmoral, was very anxious about the manner in which her husband should pass the very severe ordeal of delivering an address to the assembled men of science. She recorded her high gratification at learning by telegram that “Albert’s reception was admirable, and that all was going off as well as possible. Thank God!” She invited the savans, to a fête at her Highland home; they accepted the invitation in great numbers; and “the philosophers,” of whom Her Majesty was not a little, and rather comically, afraid, were not only entertained with creature comforts, but the somewhat novel combination was presented of Owen, Brewster, Sabine, and Murchison, with their brethren of lesser renown, standing as spectators of contests of strength between athletes of the Grant, Farquharson, Duff, and other clans. Some of the more distinguished guests remained over night, and at dinner they rejoiced the Queen’s heart by “speaking in very high terms of my beloved Albert’s speech, the good it had done, and the general satisfaction it had caused.”
THE PRINCE AS AN AGRICULTURIST.
Probably the capacity of all others in which the Prince became most generally familiar to the nation, was that of a practical, improving, scientific agriculturist; and we use this word in its twofold sense, as embracing the growing of crops and the rearing of live stock. Almost from the outset of his career amongst us he commenced a series of scientific agricultural experiments on the farms in Windsor Park. He renovated the agriculture of the Park, as much as he confessedly did its landscape gardening. He became a constant and most successful exhibitor of live domestic edible animals at the great agricultural shows; his example in this field having been followed since his death, to the great gratification of the agricultural interest, both by his widow and his eldest son; and, especially in the case of Her Majesty, with marked success. As a high and eminent authority on the subject has admirably put it—
His was no merely idle, passing patronage or casual aid, but it was rather a pursuit he delighted in, and one he followed out with equal energy and advantage. The most practical man could not go that pleasant round from the Flemish farm to the Norfolk, and so back again by the Home and the Dairy, without learning something wherever he went.
We must deny ourselves the pleasure of aught but passing reference to the admirable manner in which he discharged his academic duties as Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, which post he held from 1845 till his death, and about which we say enough when we remind or inform the reader that it was such men as Professor Sedgwick, the Vice-chancellor, who spoke of the exercise of his duties in this capacity in terms of the highest honour and estimation. Similar were his services to such noble institutions as Eton and Wellington Colleges, in both of which he offered prizes expressly calculated to encourage the pursuit of those studies which had been, or were most likely to be, ignored in their several cases. Horticulture, art exhibitions, the National Portrait Gallery, the Society of Arts, societies for improving the general condition and the housing of the labouring classes, mechanics’ institutions—each of these constitutes a theme most pregnant and suggestive in connection with the Prince’s name and memory. But we can do no more than recite and dismiss the bald catalogue of topics. Reserving for the appropriate chronological occasion some brief remarks upon the character of the Prince as a private man, as contrasted with his aspects of character as a citizen and public benefactor, to which we have at present confined ourselves, we feel that we cannot better conclude than by condensing his opinions delivered in an address to the annual meeting of the Servants’ Provident Benevolent Society, in 1849, in which the whole plan and doctrine by which he believed all really useful associated benevolence ought to be regulated was summed up. His view was that no such organisation was founded upon a right principle which did not require every man, by personal exertion, and by his own choice, to work out his own happiness. Benevolence he held to be not really such unless it stimulated providence, self-denial, and perseverance. He used special words of warning against those so frequent lotteries of uncertain and precarious advantages—“really a species of gambling”—expensive convivial meetings, balloting for prizes, and electioneering contests on a small scale. “Let them always bear in mind,” he proceeded to say, “that their savings are capital, that capital will only return a certain interest, and that any advantage offered beyond that interest has to be purchased at a commensurate risk of the capital itself.”
Such is a view, but all too summary and inadequate, of some of the obligations which the English, as his fellow-citizens, owed to that Prince whose life was so intertwined with and influential on that of their Sovereign.