Prince Albert
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The position of Oxford was equally forlorn, where violent diatribes had been issued in denunciation of the British Association For The Advancement of Science, and which included the declaration of an Oxford divine that ‘men who entertain such fears seem to forget that The Book of Nature and The Book of Revelation were both written by the same Author’. As Lyell caustically observed: ‘After the year 1839 we may consider three-fourths of the sciences, still nominally taught at Oxford, to have been virtually exiled from the University. The class-rooms of the professors were some of them entirely, others nearly, deserted’.
The more that Prince Albert examined the Cambridge situation, and compared it with Berlin, Bonn, and Edinburgh, the more astonished he became. Whewell admitted the limitations of the University, but argued that internal reform was improbable, and lamely proposed special scholarships in Jurisprudence and Natural History. Indeed, Whewell’s Principles of University Education, published in 1837, which particularly excited Lyell’s condemnation, was an eloquent plea for the old order which the new Chancellor was resolved to end.
He began by inviting Professor Sedgwick to act as his personal and official secretary in Cambridge, and then asked Philpott to prepare and present to him a detailed list of ‘studies & scientific enquiries pursued at Cambridge at this time’. The results were appalling. As Albert wrote to Lord John Russell, seeking his views, there were no studies in history, political economy, law, psychology, modern languages, geography, chemistry, art, astronomy, natural history, or science. The Professor of Oriental Languages, lecturing on Sanscrit, had only one pupil. The second year public examination was confined to Euripides, Cicero, St. Mark’s Gospel in Greek, Evidences of Christianity, and Old Testament history. As Lyell rightly wrote, the student’s ‘highest hope of future preferment is not in the University, but in the Church’.
Prince Albert also consulted Peel, who fully shared Lyell’s exasperation at Whewell’s excessive caution, and wrote to him on November 2nd 1847:
The Doctor’s assumption that a century should pass before our discoveries in Science are admitted to the course of Academical Instruction exceeds in absurdity anything which the bitterest enemy of University Education could have imputed to its advocates.
Are the students at Cambridge to hear nothing of Electricity or the Speculations concerning the mysterious influence, its possible connection with the nervous system and with muscular action, till all doubts on the subject are at end? Will they be at an end after the lapse of 100 years?
If the Principle for which Dr. Whewell contends be a sound one it will be difficult to deliver a Lecture on Theology . . .
In the new Vice-Chancellor, Robert Phelps, Master of Sidney Lodge, and in Philpott Albert had more encouraging and sympathetic supporters. Philpott explained to Prince Albert, in the latter’s account to Russell, that ‘the Heads of Colleges were such a nervous & essentially Conservative body that it required the greatest caution in proposing any improvement not to arouse an insurmountable opposition’. But this was tactical caution, and very different from the hostility of Whewell, and Albert accepted his wise advice to advance with discretion. In the meanwhile, with a reasonable amount of general approval in the University, Prince Albert instituted the Chancellor’s Gold Medal for History. It was his idea entirely, and marked his first direct intervention in the University’s affairs.
On December 30th 1847 Philpott wrote to Phelps to set out his proposals for reform, and particularly ‘The exclusive character of our Studies which gives the University the appearance of a place of Education for candidates for Holy Orders only . . . It would be a great calamity to the University & to the Nation at large if an opinion should gain ground among the higher orders of Society that the Studies of the University are not such as tend to fit a man for the active business & intercourse of life & promised to be useful to him in it . . . There is no doubt that such an opinion does now prevail in some degree’.
Albert was delighted with the thrust of Philpott’s revolutionary proposals – for such they were – and especially the emphasis upon the natural sciences and history. Philpott knew the Prince’s mind, and was quite aware that his censures and proposals would be warmly welcomed by the Chancellor, but it must be emphasised that the actual proposals for which Albert – with justice – later received so much credit stemmed from the eminent Professor of Moral Philosophy.
Philpott proposed – and Prince Albert immediately accepted, with great enthusiasm – a new Moral Sciences Tripos involving moral philosophy, political economy, modern history, general jurisprudence, and the laws of England. There would also be compulsory attendance at a much wider number and variety of lectures for all undergraduates, but the proposal that excited Albert even more was that for the establishment of a Natural Sciences Tripos. He was disappointed by Philpott’s advice not to present his proposals to Senate until October, but accepted that much preparatory work, discussion, and negotiation would be needed in Cambridge if these extraordinary suggestions were to be accepted. He also saw the wisdom in attempting to win over the influential Whewell, a task to which he particularly addressed himself.
It was also proposed that there should be a new Board for Mathematical Studies, to consult together ‘on all matters relating to the actual state of mathematical studies and examinations in the University’ and to prepare an annual published report. In some respects this was to prove the most far-reaching proposal of all.
In the event, Prince Albert’s prestige and position as Chancellor were sorely needed in the following months. With considerable reluctance Whewell agreed to support the proposals, but resistance elsewhere – and strongly supported in Oxford, where there was much horror at the implications of the Cambridge reforms – was stiff and enduring. The Senate eventually approved the reforms on October 31st 1848, but although Phelps described the majority as ‘triumphant’ the Prince noted the significantly high minority vote. Nonetheless, the reforms had been forced through, and drew unexpectedly lavish praise upon Albert’s head from The Morning Chronicle and The Times. Oxford had little choice but to follow suit.
Prince Albert deeply resented the action of Lord John Russell in instituting a Royal Commission on the universities in 1850 without consulting him, and in a public letter clearly expressed that resentment. This was not enough for certain Cambridge personalities, who treated the Chancellor with studied offensiveness in matters small and large, ‘the present Vice-Chancellor withholding all information from me on principle’, as he noted on one occasion. But Sedgwick was a staunch supporter, and there were others who recognised and appreciated the Prince’s profound and sincere commitment to Cambridge.
His concern for science, technology, and engineering formed only part of his interests; he wished Cambridge to become a place ‘where the savants of this country may find a home which at present is absolutely denied to them, and they themselves being driven to join the mere money-making pursuits or to starve’, and he wished this of all British universities. It was in his acute understanding of the crucial balance between the humanities and the new sciences that his genius as Chancellor and leader of thought resided. He was not only the greatest Chancellor Cambridge University has ever had, but he was the pioneer of the principles of enlightened scholarship and of the love of learning for its own sake.
Prince Albert’s papers on Cambridge for the rest of his life and Chancellorship demonstrate his keen interest in the University, and his deep concern to improve the chronically bad relations with the Town. The University of Cambridge and Borough Act of 1856 was a serious endeavour to improve matters, including handing to the Town authorities the Vice-Chancellor’s ancient right of granting Alehouse Licences, although Wine Licences were retained. He was the founder of the University Rifle Corps, and his advice and intervention frequently sought on a very wide variety of subjects, including the Petition by several Fellows of Clare Hall against its Master (Webb) in 1854. He was diligent in his official duties
and visitations, which he enjoyed greatly.
But these services, important and onerous though they were, do not compare with the service he rendered not only to Cambridge but to British Universities by ending the lethargy of centuries and laying the foundations of a modern, relevant, and high quality University that was to develop rapidly from lassitude and ineptitude into one of the greatest Universities in the world.
There were to be many difficulties. The Cambridge University Act of 1856 was bitterly contested in the University, and it was not until 1871 that the pernicious religious tests – which had effectively debarred Roman Catholics, dissenters, and free-thinkers – were removed, and opened Cambridge to a new reservoir of talent for college Fellowships and University Professorships. It was Prince Albert’s successor as Chancellor, the Duke of Devonshire, who built and equipped the Cavendish Laboratory at his own expense. But Albert had led the way, and charted the new course that others followed. The impact that he made upon Cambridge, and indeed upon the concept of British universities, is literally incalculable.
He indeed did achieve his ambition of doing ‘something in my own name for my adopted country’.
Prince Albert and the Queen had never forgotten their visits to Scotland in 1842 and 1844, but political crises, the arrival of more children, and the building of Osborne combined to make another visit impossible until August 1847 when they cruised up the West Coast in the Victoria and Albert and made frequent and happy expeditions by carriage, horse, and foot. This visit was even more successful than the first, being private and informal, and immediately on their return they discussed the possibility of buying a house of their own, preferably in the Highlands, where the astringent air and glens had made such a deep impression upon Albert. Both suffered slightly from rheumatism, but there was also the factor that the air in London was notoriously harsh on lungs and throat, the dank Thames Valley did not make Windsor notably healthy, and the air at Osborne, although gentle and unpolluted, was undeniably soft. Nonetheless, although these were the reasons that secured Sir James Clark’s warm support for Highland air – which he described, somewhat oddly, as very suitable ‘for the peculiar constitution of the Queen and Prince’ – the most important attraction for Victoria and Albert had been the Highland people they had met. Queen Victoria, with her keen eye for beauty, admired their physique, and also their quiet pride, independence, generosity and kindness. They were, she wrote with admiration, ‘never vulgar, never take liberties, are so intelligent, modest, and well bred’. It was very refreshing for the young couple to meet ordinary people, many of them very poor, who were courteous without any hint of obsequiousness, not averse to speaking their minds, and genuinely pleased to meet them. These factors made the greatest impression of all, and it later became legendary in Court circles that the Queen would put up with a frankness in Scotland that she would not have tolerated in the Court.
In 1843 it had been Peel who had told them of Osborne; now it was Aberdeen who suggested Balmoral Castle, on Deeside, near Ballater, which had been designed and built by his late brother, Sir Robert Gordon, and had the unexpired portion of a lease; Gordon had died in 1847 and the lease, inherited by Aberdeen, had twenty-six years to run. It so happened that Sir James Clark’s son had stayed there with Robert Gordon at the same time as the Queen and Prince had been in the western Highlands, where ‘the weather was most dreadful’, in the Queen’s words, whereas that at Balmoral had been excellent. On these recommendations, and after seeing some sketches of the Castle, the Queen and Prince Albert bought the lease from Aberdeen without further commitment at that stage.
They reached Balmoral for the first time on September 8th 1848. Queen Victoria wrote that it was ‘a pretty little castle in the old scotch style’, although it was, in fact, only recently built; they were charmed by the position, rode and walked, sketched, went on numerous expeditions, and Albert successfully stalked and shot his first deer. ‘We have withdrawn for a short time into a complete mountain solitude’, he wrote on September 11th, ‘where one rarely sees a human face, where the snow already covers the mountain tops, and the wild deer come creeping stealthily round the house . . . The air is glorious and clear, but icy cold’. ‘It was so calm, and so solitary’, Victoria wrote, ‘it did one good as one gazed around; and the pure mountain air was most refreshing. All seemed to breathe freedom and peace, and to make one forget the world and its sad turmoils’. But, again, it was the people who made an even stronger impact upon them than the glorious mountains, wild streams, and glens. The tenants and crofters took with much warmth to the young family, and when they sadly left they passed under an arch with the words, ‘More beloved than ever, Haste ye back to your home of heather’.
The only practical difficulty concerned the Castle itself, which had limited space and inadequate facilities for a growing family and the needs of the Sovereign. Although Balmoral was intended to be another Osborne, a family home for retreat, it also had to accommodate the Sovereign’s staff and have facilities for visiting Ministers and distinguished guests.
The purchase of the freehold from the Fife Trustees proved a lengthy and highly frustrating business, particularly as Albert had successfully bought the freehold of 6,500 acres of the Birkhall estate, and although the Gordon family would not sell the freehold of Abergeldi, the neighbouring estate to the east, they granted a lease for forty years, with the option of renewal. The Farquharson family would not sell the forest of Ballochbuie, which Albert also coveted, and which only became part of the Balmoral estate after his death, in 1878. These purchases, although wise, and on good terms, had little relevance while the 17,400 acre Balmoral estate and castle remained unavailable, and it was not until June 1852 that it at last became Royal property, at a cost of 30,000 guineas, and Albert could put into effect his detailed plans for the castle, its immediate garden and grounds, and the estate and its tenants. Until then, the Royal family were simply tenants, and every visit only increased their impatience to own it. But in 1852 the building of the new Balmoral could begin in earnest, and was first occupied in 1855.
In 1848 the couple had first met John Brown, the son of a local farmer employed at the Castle, with an exceptional knowledge of the area, a favourite of the children, and greatly liked by Albert. He became, in Victoria’s own phrase, her ‘particular gillie’, and was a permanent and invaluable member of all their great ‘expeditions’. Their understanding and affection was to become very deep, and after Prince Albert’s death was to be the topic of much speculation, gossip, and allegations that went far beyond innuendo that he was her lover and even, in some reports, that they had secretly married. By this stage Brown had been brought to London and Osborne as ‘the Queen’s Highland Servant’, where his brusque manners and heavy drinking were not generally appreciated, although matters of no consequence whatever to the Queen. He remained, with her devoted maid, Annie Macdonald, the two servants whom she especially trusted, and in Brown’s case he had the outstanding qualification of having been discovered by her husband. Her perception of character may have been uneven, and certainly became more noticeably so after Albert’s death, and she had her favourites who could do no wrong and those who, having once fallen into disfavour, had considerable difficulty in retrieving their lost position. But although these very human aspects of her personality had serious consequences in her political judgement before and after her marriage, her deep loyalty to, and dependence upon, John Brown should not be misinterpreted. He was, above all, the living reminder of the great discovery of Balmoral by Albert and herself; he had been their constant leader and adviser in their happy expeditions; he had been the Prince’s choice as their companion and guide; he brought back all the happy memories of those perfect family autumns. That is all there was to it. Lady Longford has put the matter clearly and unanswerably:
That the Queen was neither John Brown’s mistress nor his morganatic wife should be clear from a study of her character.47
By the autumn of 184
7 Prince Albert was becoming deeply concerned by the condition of Europe, and by the evident signs of imminent disaster to the established regimes. ‘The political horizon grows darker and darker’, he wrote to Stockmar on September 11th; ‘Italy, Greece, Spain, Portugal are in a state of ferment’, and Queen Victoria wrote to Leopold that ‘the state of politics in Europe is very critical and one feels very anxious for the future’.
These apprehensions were fully merited. What neither Albert nor Victoria anticipated was the extraordinarily rapid extinction of the Orleanist government of Louis Philippe and its guiding genius, Guizot. As a result of a series of blunders exceptional even by French monarchical standards, a general resentment grew into an insurrection, and thereby rapidly progressed into an unplanned and unexpected revolution, from which Louis Philippe and his family barely escaped: ‘there is an impression they fled too quickly’, as the Queen tartly remarked.
Stockmar, characteristically, was not greatly surprised. He had written on August 1st 1847:
Louis Philippe’s ambiguous reputation as a master of the art of statesmanship has been most unequivocably ruined by the Spanish intrigue. If he lives long enough he can hardly fail to suffer some portion of the punishment which according to the laws of nature, he has incurred.
The revolution, and its completeness and suddenness, took almost everyone by surprise. Louis Philippe and his wife had to be hustled in disguise from Trouville to Newhaven, whence they were taken to refuge at Claremont. While Albert and the Queen were distressed and sympathetic to the predicament of the French Royal Family, and were glad to be of assistance, there was an evident coldness in their attitude. ‘One does not like to attack those who have fallen’, the Queen wrote, ‘but the poor King L.P. has brought much of this on, by that ill-fated return to a Bourbon policy. I always think he ought not to have abdicated’.
This new French Revolution occasioned emotions of popular alarm and intense optimism in England and Ireland.