did not understand either the Laws of
Thought or the wit of a German University. Since it was clear that with
such people he could have very little in common, there was no reason
whatever for relaxing in their favour the rules of etiquette. In strict
privacy, he could be natural and charming; Seymour and Anson were
devoted to him, and he returned their affection; but they were
subordinates--the receivers of his confidences and the agents of his
will. From the support and the solace of true companionship he was
utterly cut off.

A friend, indeed, he had--or rather, a mentor. The Baron, established
once more in the royal residence, was determined to work with as
wholehearted a detachment for the Prince's benefit as, more than twenty
years before, he had worked for his uncle's. The situations then and
now, similar in many respects, were yet full of differences. Perhaps in
either case the difficulties to be encountered were equally great; but
the present problem was the more complex and the more interesting. The
young doctor who, unknown and insignificant, had nothing at the back of
him but his own wits and the friendship of an unimportant Prince, had
been replaced by the accomplished confidant of kings and ministers, ripe
in years, in reputation, and in the wisdom of a vast experience. It
was possible for him to treat Albert with something of the affectionate
authority of a father; but, on the other hand, Albert was no Leopold.
As the Baron was very well aware, he had none of his uncle's rigidity of
ambition, none of his overweening impulse to be personally great. He was
virtuous and well-intentioned; he was clever and well-informed; but he
took no interest in politics, and there were no signs that he possessed
any commanding force of character. Left to himself, he would almost
certainly have subsided into a high-minded nonentity, an aimless
dilettante busy over culture, a palace appendage without influence or
power. But he was not left to himself: Stockmar saw to that. For ever
at his pupil's elbow, the hidden Baron pushed him forward, with tireless
pressure, along the path which had been trod by Leopold so many years
ago. But, this time, the goal at the end of it was something more than
the mediocre royalty that Leopold had reached. The prize which Stockmar,
with all the energy of disinterested devotion, had determined should be
Albert's was a tremendous prize indeed.

The beginning of the undertaking proved to be the