Albert, as well as General Schreckenstein, was much affected.  He was losing his favourite child, whose opening intelligence had already begun to display a marked resemblance to his own—­an adoring pupil, who, in a few years, might have become an almost adequate companion.  An ironic fate had determined that the daughter who was taken from him should be sympathetic, clever, interested in the arts and sciences, and endowed with a strong taste for memoranda, while not a single one of these qualities could be discovered in the son who remained.  For certainly the Prince of Wales did not take after his father.  Victoria’s prayer had been unanswered, and with each succeeding year it became more obvious that Bertie was a true scion of the House of Brunswick.  But these evidences of innate characteristics only served to redouble the efforts of his parents; it still might not be too late to incline the young branch, by ceaseless pressure and careful fastenings, to grow in the proper direction.  Everything was tried.  The boy was sent on a continental tour with a picked body of tutors, but the results were unsatisfactory.  At his father’s request he kept a diary which, on his return, was inspected by the Prince.  It was found to be distressingly meagre:  what a multitude of highly interesting reflections might have been arranged under the heading:  “The First Prince of Wales visiting the Pope!” But there was not a single one.  “Le jeune prince plaisit a tout le monde,” old Metternich reported to Guizot, “mais avait l’air embarrasse et tres triste.”  On his seventeenth birthday a memorandum was drawn up over the names of the Queen and the Prince informing their eldest son that he was now entering upon the period of manhood, and directing him henceforward to perform the duties of a Christian gentleman.  “Life is composed of duties,” said the memorandum, “and in the due, punctual and cheerful performance of them the true Christian, true soldier, and true gentleman is recognised...  A new sphere of life will open for you in which you will have to be taught what to do and what not to do, a subject requiring study more important than any in which you have hitherto been engaged.”  On receipt of the memorandum Bertie burst into tears.  At the same time another memorandum was drawn up, headed “confidential:  for the guidance of the gentlemen appointed to attend on the Prince of Wales.”  This long and elaborate document laid down “certain principles” by which the “conduct and demeanour” of the gentlemen were to be regulated “and which it is thought may conduce to the benefit of the Prince of Wales.”  “The qualities which distinguish a gentleman in society,” continued this remarkable paper, “are:—­

(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.”