Ernest laughed at his brother for his increasing solemnity and rather against his will Albert indulged in an occasional practical joke which was the only sort he could see any point in.
Once he and Ernest filled the cloak pockets of one of their father’s guests with soft cheese. This was a lady, which rendered the joke doubly hilarious in Albert’s eyes. They made a point of being in the cloakroom when she was helped into her cloak and had the satisfaction of seeing her plunge her hand into the mess in her pocket. Suspecting them, she had berated them angrily, and, while Albert remained regarding her with big reproachful eyes, Ernest was almost choking with laughter.
That was a period when they played practical jokes whenever they could think them out. Their indulgent step-mother told their father that it was a phase most boys went through and it was in a way a relief to see Albert slightly less of a model boy.
But Albert was really much happier at the more serious activities. He was developing a great dignity, and practical joking did not really fit in with this. Music was his most pleasant relaxation; he played the piano and organ with skill and composed a little; he had a good voice which he liked to air; he could draw and paint tolerably well; he was interested in science; he wrote a little and confided to Ernest he would like to write a book – a very serious one, on German thought and philosophy. In addition to all these intellectual achievements he could fence and give a good account of himself in forays with Ernest; he was a good swimmer, and could manage a horse with skill. The one exercise he did not enjoy was dancing – not so much going through the motions but because it usually meant touching hands with people of the opposite sex and as he said to Ernest there was something erotic in the procedure.
‘Now that,’ said Ernest with a chuckle, ‘is exactly what I like about it.’
His step-mother noticed that when he was introduced to ladies his manner was awkward.
‘Oh, that’ll pass,’ said his father. ‘He’s a boy yet.’
When Ernest was seventeen it was time for his confirmation and, said Herr Florschütz, Albert was so advanced, so serious in his inclinations and in every way as forward as his brother that there seemed no reason why he should not share in the ceremony.
So on Palm Sunday in the Chapel of the Palace at Coburg, the boys were catechised for an hour. Albert’s responses made a great impression on the spectators, and when asked if he would steadfastly uphold the Evangelical Church he answered in a resolute voice not simply the ‘Yes’ which was expected but added: ‘I and my brother are firmly resolved to remain faithful to the acknowledged truth.’
Albert at sixteen had indeed grown into a model Prince; and few in Coburg seemed to think that his lack of social graces was of great importance.
Chapter III
THE LITTLE COUSIN OF KENSINGTON
It was almost a year later when a letter arrived from England for Duke Ernest; when he had read it he summoned his sons and told them that he had had an invitation for them.
‘It is from your aunt, the Duchess of Kent, who asks me to take you both to visit her. There is also a letter from your Uncle Leopold. I suspect he has arranged the whole thing.’
Ernest was excited; Albert a little apprehensive. He knew what this invitation meant and he had to face the fact that he could not be young for ever. He was nearly seventeen, a marriageable age for royal people. Could this visit mean that the pleasant life he had led for so many years with Ernest as his companion was over?
There would be a great many preparations to make, said their father. Uncle Leopold did not want them to visit their English relations like paupers.
The forest had taken on a new beauty; Albert spent many happy hours examining the specimens in the ‘museum’ and recalling how they had come into his or Ernest’s possession.
‘To leave all this!’ he cried.
‘Childish relics,’ said Ernest. Albert looked at his brother sadly. If he himself was the more learned, the more serious of the two, Ernest was in a way the more grown-up. ‘Just think what this visit means,’ went on Ernest. ‘We shall see your little paragon of Kensington.’
Albert shivered. ‘Perhaps she will prefer you, Ernest.’
Ernest said he thought that very likely.
‘I am sure Cousin Feodore does, and she is half sister to the Kensington cousin.’
‘I think women do prefer you, Ernest.’
‘That’s because I’m far nicer to them than you are. You just try a little flattery and you’ll find they succumb at once to your beauty.’
‘That’s something I can never do.’
‘The trouble with you, Albert, is that you’re too solemn, and too good. Women like something a little wild and wicked.’
‘Then I think they are too stupid to bother with.’
‘And so they will go on preferring my pale cheeks to your pink ones and my wicked dark flashing eyes to your angelic blue.’
‘I wish we need not grow up. I’d like us to remain boys together like this for always.’
Ernest’s eyes rolled wickedly. ‘Ah, there are pleasures in adult life, Albert, of which you have yet to learn.’
Albert did not believe it and he was very uneasy.
‘I can’t wait to see Uncle Leopold’s little angel of Kensington,’ said Ernest.
But Albert felt he could very happily wait for a long time. The family party, at the head of which was Duke Ernest, left at the end of April. ‘A good time,’ said the Duke, ‘for crossing the Channel, which can be something of an ordeal for those unused to being on the water if the sea is rough.’
Albert knew that he was one of those; and he was right. The sea was rough, the crossing long, and Albert, very sick, heartily wished that he was at home in the forests of Germany; in fact death seemed preferable to the sufferings imposed by that stretch of diabolical water.
At last – and a very long last – they arrived and what a pleasure it was to be on dry land.
‘You look as if you have faced death,’ said Ernest jocularly.
‘That was exactly what it felt like,’ said Albert, ‘and when I think that we have to endure that again before we get home my spirits sink.’
‘It’ll pass,’ said Ernest. ‘Think of the pleasures ahead.’
He had seen her. She was tiny and imperious and was called Victoria – the Alexandrina having been dropped, presumably as unsuitable for a British Queen. She was gay and very affectionate. Oddly enough she did not embarrass him as he might have expected. Was it because he had been conditioned by Uncle Leopold? Did he feel that he had to like her – more than like her, admire her – just as he had to accept that terrible crossing as inevitable?
She spoke in German very fluently and what he called excitedly, emphasising certain words as though to give special points to her meaning. She was so delighted to see her cousins. She had looked forward to the meeting for a long long time and she knew that their visit was going to be such a happy time for her. She considered she was very lucky to have so many cousins. They came over now and then and she spent hours planning treats for them. She believed she was going to enjoy this visit very specially.