The Duke had one other child—­Prince Ernest, Albert’s senior by one year, and heir to the principality.  The Duchess was a sprightly and beautiful woman, with fair hair and blue eyes; Albert was very like her and was her declared favourite.  But in his fifth year he was parted from her for ever.  The ducal court was not noted for the strictness of its morals; the Duke was a man of gallantry, and it was rumoured that the Duchess followed her husband’s example.  There were scandals:  one of the Court Chamberlains, a charming and cultivated man of Jewish extraction, was talked of; at last there was a separation, followed by a divorce.  The Duchess retired to Paris, and died unhappily in 1831.  Her memory was always very dear to Albert.

He grew up a pretty, clever, and high-spirited boy.  Usually well-behaved, he was, however, sometimes violent.  He had a will of his own, and asserted it; his elder brother was less passionate, less purposeful, and, in their wrangles, it was Albert who came out top.  The two boys, living for the most part in one or other of the Duke’s country houses, among pretty hills and woods and streams, had been at a very early age—­Albert was less than four—­separated from their nurses and put under a tutor, in whose charge they remained until they went to the University.  They were brought up in a simple and unostentatious manner, for the Duke was poor and the duchy very small and very insignificant.  Before long it became evident that Albert was a model lad.  Intelligent and painstaking, he had been touched by the moral earnestness of his generation; at the age of eleven he surprised his father by telling him that he hoped to make himself “a good and useful man.”  And yet he was not over-serious; though, perhaps, he had little humour, he was full of fun—­of practical jokes and mimicry.  He was no milksop; he rode, and shot, and fenced; above all did he delight in being out of doors, and never was he happier than in his long rambles with his brother through the wild country round his beloved Rosenau—­stalking the deer, admiring the scenery, and returning laden with specimens for his natural history collection.  He was, besides, passionately fond of music.  In one particular it was observed that he did not take after his father:  owing either to his peculiar upbringing or to a more fundamental idiosyncrasy he had a marked distaste for the opposite sex.  At the age of five, at a children’s dance, he screamed with disgust and anger when a little girl was led up to him for a partner; and though, later on, he grew more successful in disguising such feelings, the feelings remained.