（1）　His　appearance；　his　deportment　and　dress。　　　（2）　The　character　of　his　relations　with；　and　treatment　of；　others。　　　（3）　His　desire　and　power　to　acquit　himself　creditably　in　conversation　or　whatever　is　the　occupation　of　the　society　with　which　he　mixes。〃
  A　minute　and　detailed　analysis　of　these　subheadings　followed；　filling　several　pages；　and　the　memorandum　ended　with　a　final　exhortation　to　the　gentlemen：　〃If　they　will　duly　appreciate　the　responsibility　of　their　position；　and　taking　the　points　above　laid　down　as　the　outline；　will　exercise　their　own　good　sense　in　acting　UPON　ALL　OCCASIONS　all　upon　these　principles；　thinking　no　point　of　detail　too　minute　to　be　important；　but　maintaining　one　steady　consistent　line　of　conduct　they　may　render　essential　service　to　the　young　Prince　and　justify　the　flattering　selection　made　by　the　royal　parents。〃　A　year　later　the　young　Prince　was　sent　to　Oxford；　where　the　greatest　care　was　taken　that　he　should　not　mix　with　the　undergraduates。　Yes；　everything　had　been　triedeverything。。。　with　one　single　exception。　The　experiment　had　never　been　made　of　letting　Bertie　enjoy　himself。　But　why　should　it　have　been？　〃Life　is　composed　of　duties。〃　What　possible　place　could　there　be　for　enjoyment　in　the　existence　of　a　Prince　of　Wales？
  The　same　year　which　deprived　Albert　of　the　Princess　Royal　brought　him　another　and　a　still　more　serious　loss。　The　Baron　had　paid　his　last　visit　to　England。　For　twenty　years；　as　he　himself　said　in　a　letter　to　the　King　of　the　Belgians；　he　had　performed　〃the　laborious　and　exhausting　office　of　a　paternal　friend　and　trusted　adviser〃　to　the　Prince　and　the　Queen。　He　was　seventy；　he　was　tired；　physically　and　mentally；　it　was　time　to　go。　He　returned　to　his　home　in　Coburg；　exchanging；　once　for　all；　the　momentous　secrecies　of　European　statecraft　for　the　little…tattle　of　a　provincial　capital　and　the　gossip　of　family　life。　In　his　stiff　chair　by　the　fire　he　nodded　now　over　old　storiesnot　of　emperors　and　generalsbut　of　neighbours　and　relatives　and　the　domestic　adventures　of　long　agothe　burning　of　his　father's　libraryand　the　goat　that　ran　upstairs　to　his　sister's　room　and　ran　twice　round　the　table　and　then　ran　down　again。　Dyspepsia　and　depression　still　attacked　him；　but；　looking　back　over　his　life；　he　was　not　dissatisfied。　His　conscience　was　clear。　〃I　have　worked　as　long　as　I　had　strength　to　work；〃　he　said；　〃and　for　a　purpose　no　one　can　impugn。　The　consciousness　of　this　is　my　rewardthe　only　one　which　I　desired　to　earn。〃
  Apparently；　indeed；　his　〃purpose〃　had　been　accomplished。　By　his　wisdom；　his　patience；　and　his　example　he　had　brought　about；　in　the　fullness　of　time；　the　miraculous　metamorphosis　of　which　he　had　dreamed。　The　Prince　was　his　creation。　An　indefatigable　toiler；　presiding；　for　the　highest　ends；　over　a　great　nationthat　was　his　achievement；　and　he　looked　upon　his　work　and　it　was　good。　But　had　the　Baron　no　misgivings？　Did　he　never　wonder　whether；　perhaps；　he　might　have　accomplished　not　too　little　but　too　much？　How　subtle　and　how　dangerous　are　the　snares　which　fate　lays　for　the　wariest　of　men！　Albert；　certainly；　seemed　to　be　everything　that　Stockmar　could　have　wishedvirtuous；　industrious；　persevering；　intelligent。　And　yetwhy　was　itall　was　not　well　with　him？　He　was　sick　at　heart。
  For　in　spite　of　everything　he　had　never　reached　to　happiness。　His　work；　for　which　at　last　he　came　to　crave　with　an　almost　morbid　appetite；　was　a　solace　and　not　a　cure；　the　dragon　of　his　dissatisfaction　devoured　with　dark　relish　that　ever…growing　tribute　of　laborious　days　and　nights；　but　it　was　hungry　still。　The　causes　of　his　melancholy　were　hidden；　mysterious；　unanalysable　perhapstoo　deeply　rooted　in　the　innermost　recesses　of　his　temperament　for　the　eye　of　reason　to　apprehend。　There　were　contradictions　in　his　nature；　which；　to　some　of　those　who　knew　him　best；　made　him　seem　an　inexplicable　enigma：　he　was　severe　and　gentle；　he　was　modest　and　scornful；　he　longed　for　affection　and　he　was　cold。　He　was　lonely；　not　merely　with　the　loneliness　of　exile　but　with　the　loneliness　of　conscious　and　unrecognised　superiority。　He　had　the　pride；　at　once　resigned　and　overweening；　of　a　doctrinaire。　And　yet　to　say　that　he　was　simply　a　doctrinaire　would　be　a　false　description；　for　the　pure　doctrinaire　rejoices　always　in　an　internal　contentment；　and　Albert　was　very　far　from　doing　that。　There　was　something　that　he　wanted　and　that　he　could　never　get。　What　was　it？　Some　absolute；　some　ineffable　sympathy？　Some　extraordinary；　some　sublime　success？　Possibly；　it　was　a　mixture　of　both。　To　dominate　and　to　be　understood！　To　conquer；　by　the　same　triumphant　influence；　the　submission　and　the　appreciation　of　menthat　would　be　worth　while　indeed！　But；　to　such　imaginations；　he　saw　too　clearly　how　faint　were　the　responses　of　his　actual　environment。　Who　was　there　who　appreciated　him；　really　and　truly？　Who　COULD　appreciate　him　in　England？　And；　if　the　gentle　virtue　of　an　inward　excellence　availed　so　little；　could　he　expect　more　from　the　hard　ways　of　skill　and　force？　The　terrible　land　of　his　exile　loomed　before　him　a　frigid；　an　impregnable　mass。　Doubtless　he　had　made　some　slight　impression：　it　was　true　that　he　had　gained　the　respect　of　his　fellow　workers；　that　his　probity；　his　industry；　his　exactitude；　had　been　recognised；　that　he　was　a　highly　influential；　an　extremely　important　man。　But　how　far；　how　very　far；　was　all　this　from　the　goal　of　his　ambitions！　How　feeble　and　futile　his　efforts　seemed　against　the　enormous　coagulation　of　dullness；　of　folly；　of　slackness；　of　ignorance；　of　confusion　that　confronted　him！　He　might　have　the　strength　or　the　ingenuity　to　make　some　small　change　for　the　better　here　or　thereto　rearrange　some　detail；　to　abolish　some　anomaly；　to　insist　upon　some　obvious　reform；　but　the　heart　of　the　appalling　organism　remained　untouched。　England　lumbered　on；　impervious　and　self…satisfied；　in　her　old　intolerable　course。　He　threw　himself　across　the　path　of　the　monster　with　rigid　purpose　and　set　teeth；　but　he　was　brushed　aside。　Yes！　even　Palmerston　was　still　unconqueredwas　still　there　to　afflict　him　with　his　jauntiness；　his　muddle…headedness；　his　utter　lack　of　principle。　It　was　too　much。　Neither　nature　nor　the　Baron　had　given　him　a　sanguine　spirit；　the　seeds　of　pessimism；　once　lodged　within　him；　flourished　in　a　propitious　soil。　He
  〃questioned　things；　and　did　not　find　　　　　　　　　One　that　would　answer　to　his　mind；　　　　　　　　　And　all　the　world　appeared　unkind。〃
  He　believed　that　he　was　a　failure　and　he　began　to　despair。
  Yet　Stockmar　had　told　him　that　he　must　〃never　relax；〃　and　he　never　would。　He　would　go　on；　working　to　the　utmost　and　striving　for　the　highest；　to　the　bitter　end。　His　industry　grew　almost　maniacal。　Earlier　and　earlier　was　the　green　lamp　lighted；　more　vast　grew　the　correspondence；　more　searching　the　examination　of　the　newspapers；　the　interminable　memoranda　more　punctilious；　analytical；　and　precise。　His　very　recreations　became　duties。　He　enjoyed　himself　by　time…table；　went　deer…stalking　with　meticulous　gusto；　and　made　puns　at　lunchit　was　the　right　thing　to　do。　The　mechanism　worked　with　astonishing　efficiency；　but　it　never　rested　and　it　was　never　oiled。　In　dry　exactitude　the　innumerable　cog…wheels　perpetually　revolved。　No；　whatever　happened；　the　Prince　would　not　relax；　he　had　absorbed　the　doctrines　of　Stockmar　too　thoroughly。　He　knew　what　was　right；　and；　at　all　costs；　he　would　pursue　it。　That　was　certain。　But　alas！　in　this　our　life　what　are　the　certainties？　〃In　nothing　be　over…zealous！〃　says　an　old　Greek。　〃The　due　measure　in　all　the　works　of　man　is　best。　For　often　one　who　zealously　pushes　towards　some　excellence；　though　he　be　pursuing　a　gain；　is　really　being　led　utterly　astray　by　the　will　of　some　Power；　which　makes　those　things　that　are　evil　seem　to　him　good；　and　those　things　seem　to　him　evil　that　are　for　his　advantage。〃　Surely；　both　the　Prince　and　the　Baron　might　have　learnt　something　from　the　frigid　wisdom　of　Theognis。
  Victoria　noticed　that　her　husband　sometimes　seemed　to　be　depressed　and　overworked。　She　tried　to　cheer　him　up。　Realising　uneasily　that　he　was　still　regarded　as　a　foreigner；　she　hoped　that　by　conferring　upon　him　the　title　of　Prince　Consort　（1857）　she　would　improve　his　position　in　the　country。　〃The　Queen　has　a　right　to　claim　that　her　husband　should　be　an　Englishman；〃　she　wrote。　But　unfortunately；　in　spite　of　the　Royal　Letters　Patent；　Albert　remained　as　foreign　as　before；　and　as　the　years　passed　his　dejection　deepened。　She　worked　with　him；　she　watched　over　him；　she　walked　with　him　through　the　woods　at　Osborne；　while　he　whistled　to　the　nightingales；　as　he　had　whistled　once　at　Rosenau　so　long　ago。　When　his　birthday　came　round；　she　took　the　greatest　pains　to　choose　him　presents　that　he　would　really　like。　In　1858；　when　he　was　thirty…nine；　she　gave　him　〃a　picture　of　Beatrice；　life…size；　in　oil；　by　Horsley；　a　complete　collection　of　photographic　views　of　Gotha　and　the　country　round；　which　I　had　taken　by　Bedford；　and　a　paper…weight　of　Balmoral　granite　and　deers'　teeth；　designed　by　Vicky。〃　Albert　was　of　course　delighted；　and　his　merriment　at　the　family　gathering　was　more　pronounced　than　ever：　and　yet。。。　what　was　there　that　was　wrong？
  No　doubt　it　was　his　health。　He　was　wearing　himself　out　in　the　service　of　the　country；　and　cert