When in Constantinople he had received a letter from his mother and, so General Bruce reported, he ‘was actually beaming with pleasure’ as he read it. ‘He felt that he had really deserved the genuine outpouring of a mother’s tenderness and affection.’ It was, Bruce commented, ‘a hopeful feature in his character that he [had] a strong love of approbation’. Bruce himself had also heard from the Queen, but his letter had been less encouraging. In it the Queen had urged him to warn the Prince against indulging in her presence in any ‘worldly, frivolous, gossiping kind of conversation’; he must remember that he would be returning to a house of mourning where cureless melancholy reigned. The Prince was profoundly relieved when his mother, who appeared to have overcome those feelings of resentment and dislike which had so distressed him at the time of his father’s death, seemed actually glad to have him home again. She confessed that she was at first ‘much upset at seeing him’ because ‘his beloved father was not there to welcome him back’. But he was so much improved, looking ‘so bright and healthy’. He was ‘most affectionate and the tears came into his eyes’ when he saw her. His time away had ‘done him so much good’, she continued a few days later; and he went on ‘being as good, amiable and sensible’ as anyone could have wished. Improved ‘in every respect’, he was ‘so kind and nice to the younger children, more serious in his ways and views’. She was especially pleased to note that he was ‘very distressed about General Bruce’, who, having contracted a fever in the marshes of the Upper Jordan, had died soon after his return to England in his sister’s rooms in St James’s Palace. Bruce’s death was, indeed, a ‘terrible blow’ to him, he confessed to his doctor, Henry Acland. It was really ‘too sad to think his end was caused by catching a fever, on a tour which [they had] all so thoroughly enjoyed’. He had lost, in him, ‘a most useful and valuable friend’. But he was somewhat comforted to know that Bruce was to be replaced by General William Knollys, a fatherly figure whom he liked ‘very much’ and was ultimately to consider one of his ‘most intimate friends’. His mother told him that General Knollys would ‘naturally be a species of Mentor, for no young Prince can be without a person of experience and of a certain age who would keep him from doing what was hurtful to him, or unfit for his position, and who would be responsible to me to a great extent for what took place.’ Knollys, however, was not to be the Prince’s governor but comptroller and treasurer, a title that seemed to promise a degree of independence greater than any he had previously known.
The Prince was now nearly twenty-one and his mother was anxious that there should be no further delay in his marriage. He, too, she was thankful to say, seemed ‘most anxious’ to make his formal proposal to Princess Alexandra, for whom he had bought a ‘number of pretty things’ on his travels. But he was ‘furious’ to hear that his Uncle Ernest was still determined to prevent the marriage. Not content with spreading stories that ‘Princess Christian had had illegitimate children and Princess Alix had had flirtations with young officers’, he had written to Princess Christian to tell her what had happened on the Curragh and to warn her what an unfortunate choice as a husband for her daughter the Prince would be. The Prince had already been reminded of that embarrassing affair when the Queen had informed him that she was going to tell General Knollys all about it. He had almost lost his temper then, but had written the next day to apologize, saying that on reflection he thought it would certainly be better if Knollys were told, but at the same time hoping that this would be the last conversation he would have with her on this ‘painful subject’. He agreed immediately, however, that it would be wise to let Princess Christian know the full story now that she had heard some no doubt maliciously exaggerated version of it from the Duke of Coburg. So the Queen told her daughter in Germany that ‘it would be well’ if Walburga Paget could let Princess Christian know the truth. ‘Quite in ignorance of the character of Bertie the mother must not be,’ the Queen wrote, ‘for were the poor girl to be very unhappy I could not answer for it before God had she been entrapped into it.’ Princess Christian must therefore be told ‘that wicked wretches had led our poor innocent Boy into a scrape’ which had caused his parents the ‘deepest pain’; but that both of them had forgiven him ‘this (one) sad mistake’; that the Queen was very confident he would make ‘a steady Husband’; and that she ‘looked to his wife as being HIS SALVATION’.
All this was accordingly passed on to Princess Christian, who was further assured, without too strict a regard for accuracy, that the Prince was ‘very domestic and longed to be at home’.
Princess Christian had, in fact, already been told of the Prince’s affair by her cousin, the Duke of Cambridge. She had also been informed that the Queen and her son were on extremely bad terms; and this news so distressed her that she burst into tears, feeling sure that the dislike of the son would be extended to include the proposed daughter-in-law. Arrangements for the marriage nevertheless went ahead, and the Queen used a proposed visit to the places where her husband had lived as a child in Coburg as an excuse to meet Princess Alexandra and her parents at King Leopold’s palace at Laeken.
The Queen was immediately taken with the Princess, who was as lovely as she had been said to be, with ‘such a beautiful refined profile and quiet ladylike manner’. Her parents seemed perfectly happy to accept the Prince of Wales as their son-in-law should he care to propose to Alexandra, who, in turn, was reported to be ‘very much taken’ with him. And the Queen, though she found the parents not nearly so ‘sympathique’ as the daughter, left for Coburg in the contented knowledge that all should now go well.
A few days later the Queen heard from her son that the ‘all-important event’ had taken place. He had seen Princess Alexandra at Ostend and afterwards at Brussels, where she and her parents had had luncheon together in the hotel where they were all staying. After the meal he had asked Prince Christian to come to his room and had there told him how he loved his daughter and wanted to marry her. ‘I don’t think I ever saw anybody so much pleased as he was,’ the Prince continued. ‘We then went driving.… On our return I saw Princess Christian and told her the same as I had told her husband. She said she was sure I should be kind to her [daughter] and … we then arranged that I should propose to her.’
The next day they all went over to Laeken, where King Leopold suggested a walk in the garden. The Prince and Princess Alexandra walked one or two paces behind the others, exchanging ‘a few commonplace remarks’ until the Prince asked her how she liked England, and ‘if she would one day come over [there] and how long she would remain. She said she hoped some time’.
‘I said that I hoped she would remain always there, and then offered her my hand and my heart,’ the Prince wrote.
She immediately said yes. But I told her not to answer too quickly but to consider over it. She said she had long ago. I then asked her if she liked me. She said yes. I then kissed her hand and she kissed me. We then talked for some time and I said I was sure you would love her as your own daughter and make her happy in the new home, though she would find it very sad after the terrible loss we had sustained. I told her how very sorry I was that she could never know dear Papa. She said she regretted it deeply and hoped he would have approved of my choice. I told her that it had always been his greatest wish; I only feared I was not worthy of her … I cannot tell you with what feelings my head is filled, and how happy I feel … You must excuse this hurried account as … I really don’t know whether I am on my head or my heels …