ROYAL ROMANCES OF TO-DAY

THE TSARITSA.

ROYAL ROMANCES
OF TO-DAY

By
KELLOGG DURLAND
Author of
“The Red Reign,” “Among the Fife Miners,”
etc., etc.

NEW YORK
DUFFIELD AND COMPANY
1911

Copyright, 1911,
By DUFFIELD AND COMPANY

TO
H. E. THE MARQUIS OF VILLALOBAR
A SLIGHT TOKEN OF A HIGH APPRECIATION

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

“Your task is difficult,” remarked a friend to whom I had just explained that I was writing the lives of the Empress of Russia, the Queen of Spain, and the Queen of Italy. “Your task is difficult, because these are three good Queens, and good Queens, like all good women, have no history.” Now that I have told the stories of these three good Queens, I wonder if my friend will not grant that they have been worth the telling?

FOREWORD

In the year 1907, the Woman’s Home Companion commissioned me to go to Russia to write the story of the early days, courtship and marriage of her whom the world knows to-day as the “Tsaritsa.” The following year, the same periodical sent me to Italy to write a similar account of the life of Queen Elena; and in 1910 I was once more sent abroad, this time to Spain, to learn all about Queen Victoria Eugenie.

The chapters printed in the magazine articles constitute only a part of the material which I gathered on these three trips, and consequently the stories herewith presented are to my best knowledge and belief the most complete records of these three Queens, which have yet been gathered and published. It was necessary for me to rely almost entirely upon members of the several Courts of St. Petersburg, Madrid and Rome for my biographical data. In each capital I spent many months, cultivating the acquaintance of all who were in a position to give me this material, especially members of the entourages of these several sovereigns. Accuracy was always my prime aim and the greatest care has been taken to corroborate impressions and to check up each particle of information which has been utilised. I have every confidence that the details herewith presented may be relied upon by future biographers and historians. Readableness has in no instance led me to sacrifice, or in any way to exaggerate or alter literal facts.

I have endeavoured to present the stories of these three Queens mainly from the standpoint of the heart interest which attaches to the romances which have characterised each of their marriages.

I should be most ungracious if I were to omit expressing my cordial appreciation of the valued co-operation which I received in St. Petersburg from Harold Williams, Esq., from Miss Margaret Eager, for six years Nursery Governess to the Royal Family of Russia; and in Rome from Doctor Guido Pardo, whose energy, industry and wide knowledge of men and affairs in Italy were all placed so generously at my disposal; and in Madrid from El Señor Don Emilio M. de Torres, confidential Secretary to His Majesty King Alfonso XIII, and El Señor Don Pablo de Churruca of the Spanish Diplomatic Service.

The justification for the publication of this work in more or less permanent form lies in my belief in the verity and authenticity of every last detail, all of which were gathered at such considerable expenditure of time and labour. Material so carefully gathered and verified should be of certain service to future writers.

PART I
QUEEN VICTORIA EUGENIE OF SPAIN

CHAPTER I
AN ISLAND PRINCESS

Once upon a time, not so many years ago, there lived on a lovely island of the sea, a beautiful, golden-haired, blue-eyed Princess. The mother of this Princess was kind and good to everybody on the island and all who knew her loved her. The father of the princess was a soldier, a warrior who led men to battle, and who sailed over distant seas to fight for the honour and glory of his country. The grandmother of the little Princess was a great Queen, known and revered by the whole world, for she enjoyed a long life and a long reign. The little Princess was born in the fiftieth year of the reign of the good old Queen and so the little Princess was called “the Jubilee baby.”

The Jubilee baby became the favourite grandchild of the old Queen who loved to have the young Princess with her, and so it happened that the training of the Princess was largely at the knees of the great Queen,—and her nursery days were spent on the steps of a throne.

When the Princess was eight years old, her soldier father was sent to a foreign land to fight in a cruel war. The ship that carried him and the soldiers who left their homes with him, stopped for a few days at the port of a friendly country and the officers, including the father of the Princess, got off the ship to visit the strange country. It was a pleasant land, a land of sunshine and flowers, where even in midwinter, the fragrance of roses and orange blossoms filled the air. The island home of the Princess was cold in winter, and harsh winds swept in from the sea. The Prince, seeing all the beauty of the new land, would have liked to linger in the balmy atmosphere where birds were as merry at Christmas as in his own land at Easter. But he was on a stern journey, fulfilling a great and responsible duty. The ship was about to start on to its destination—the land of discord and strife where war was being waged, and human lives were being sacrificed—where blood was running and suffering and sorrow came with each day’s sun; the ship was about to start on, and the Prince, thinking of the country whither he was going, and of the land which he now was glimpsing like a beautiful dream, thought also of the home he had left and his fair-haired, darling daughter, her three baby brothers, and their mother whom he loved very dearly. Then he sat down and wrote a letter to the little Princess. It was the first time he had ever written a letter to her, because she was still a wee girl and had never left his side. In this letter he told her how beautiful was the land that he then was visiting, and he went on to say to her: “Always be a good girl, and love your mother. If you do this, when you grow up and are big, you too, will travel, and you will come to this beautiful country. You will see for yourself that you will like it and how happy you will be here.”

The little Princess was very pleased when she received this letter from her father of whom she was extremely proud, and being the only one she had from him treasured it like a relic. She never dreamed how wonderfully prophetic were the simple words he wrote.

One short month later the Prince was dead. The shadow of this loss deeply darkened the life of the little Princess and all her family, and indeed the whole country mourned. A few years passed and the little Princess grew up and was ever and always more beautiful and lovely of character, as well as of face and form. When she was eighteen, there came to visit her country the young ruler of the very land her father had visited on his last journey—the land which he told her she would one day visit and where she would be happy. The King of this land, as it happened, was then only nineteen years old, and in quest of a Princess to share his throne. When he saw the Princess of this story, he fell instantly in love with her, and she with him—and after a wooing and courtship they were married. So after all, the Princess did go to the land her father told her she would one day see, and now the “Jubilee Baby” is the Queen of that country, and the people there have become as devoted to her as she is to them—and she is very, very happy.

Does this read like a pretty fairy tale, written for children? Possibly. But it isn’t; at least, if it is a story and pretty, it is every word true, for “the Jubilee Baby” was Queen Victoria’s thirty-second grandchild, the daughter of Princess Beatrice and Prince Henry of Battenberg. The Isle of Wight of Southern England was the home of the Battenbergs and Princess Victoria Eugenie Julia Ena—or Princess Ena, as she was generally called—was Queen Victoria’s favourite grandchild. When Princess Ena was eight years old, her father, Prince Henry, went off to the Ashanti campaign in Africa and when his ship was detained a few days at Gibraltar, he ran up to Seville, from where he wrote the letter—the only letter he ever wrote to his little daughter—telling her that one day she would come to Spain and be happy. This letter was written in November and in December, Prince Henry died of a fever contracted in the deadly climate of that part of the African coast. Ten years later, King Alfonso XIII went to England, met Princess Ena and within the twelve month, they were married and now she is Queen Eugenie of Spain!

CHAPTER II
GIRLHOOD

Princess Victoria Eugenie Julia Ena was born October 24, 1887. She enjoyed the distinction of being the first royal baby born in Scotland for precisely two hundred and eighty-seven years. Through her girlhood she was much with her grandmother, Queen Victoria of England, and she also enjoyed the particular interest of her godmother, the Empress Eugenie of France, who later on was largely instrumental in bringing about the meeting between the young King of Spain and her godchild which resulted in her elevation to a throne.

Princess Ena was the only daughter in a family of four children, and her childhood was spent much in the company of her brothers, whose studies and play she shared. Before she was twelve years old she had learned to ride like a boy, to manage a boat and had acquired considerable skill with the fishing rod. After the death of her father, Prince Henry of Battenberg, Princess Ena assisted her mother in the administration of the Isle of Wight, which was the particular bailiwick of her family. Doubtless the early lessons of administration which she learned at this time was the kind of preparation for the administrative duties of Queen, which, after her marriage, were to devolve upon her.

She received an education befitting a Princess of Great Britain. When still very young she had acquired a knowledge of French and German, and this practice in mastering new languages proved of great value later when she came to take up Spanish—a rich and full-throated tongue in which she became fluent within a few months.

Princess Ena also showed a decided talent for music and she is not only a ready, skilful pianist, but she also composes music.

Her young life was happy. She was the favourite, not only of Queen Victoria and Empress Eugenie, but of all the Royal family in England. There was no touch of the hard and sordid in those years. She dwelt in the midst of wholesome, happy people and always in beautiful places. The Isle of Wight, her home, is a sweet, tranquil haven, remote from the frequented paths of the world, far from the hurry and noise and dirt of modern England. In Spring and Summer it is like a great garden with abiding places set therein.

Balmoral in Scotland, where she was born and where she frequently lived, especially when her grandmother, Queen Victoria, was in residence in Scotland, is one of the most glorious spots in Britain. The magnificent Royal Park is widely encircled by the rugged mountains of that Northland. The river Dee, famed in song and story, runs close to hand. This Northland is more mountainous and stern than Ayr or Dumfries, the land of Bobbie Burns, and as instinct with tradition of the fighting Jacobite times as the Border country—the land of Scott—or Loch Leven with its memories of Queen Mary. Princess Ena revelled in the stirring past as she breathed the strong air of the Cairngorms, growing physically strong and sturdy, innocent of the Destiny which was to shape her life and make her a Mother of Kings.

One winter Princess Henry of Battenberg went to Egypt, taking with her her four children. This proved a memorable year to Princess Ena, for she became familiar with new surroundings and acquainted with ancient civilisations, in which she evinced a remarkable interest. Here, too, the Princess had her first experience away from royal precincts, as the winter was mostly spent in the Cataract Hotel at Aswan. It was the wish of Princess Henry that she and her children be treated precisely as the other guests of the hotel were treated, and the Princess Ena came to know many people who were of a world far removed from her own.

Many stories are told in Egypt to-day of the laughing golden-haired English Princess who was never so weary as to cease from fun and mischief, and many a prank instigated by her and her brothers is recalled. Her brightness and abounding good nature were widely appreciated and the memory she has left there is sweet and good.

Christmas Day in a foreign land is always dull and dreary, and English people, perhaps, miss home on this day above all others in the year.

The manager of the Cataract Hotel—Herr Steiger—being anxious to lift in some measure the pall of gloom which hung over his guests that Christmas planned a little surprise which he sprang at the dinner hour. Toward the close of the meal the lights in the dining salon were suddenly extinguished and a band of picturesque Orientals entered the room bearing lighted tapers and trays of gifts. Their fantastic garb of white bournous, red fez and white turbans looked weirdly strange against the darkness and as the file approached the table where sat the royal party a burst of loud applause came spontaneously from the guests at the other tables. No sooner had the first defile circled round the royal table than other similar groups entered the room and ranged around the other tables. In a moment of silence the Princess Ena was heard to exclaim: “Oh! how nice of Herr Steiger to have given this pleasure to everyone and not only to us!”

This charming consideration for others is a characteristic of her nature which has deepened with years and has proved one of the qualities which so quickly endeared her to the people of her adopted land.

At the age of eighteen Princess Ena had her formal “coming out” into Society. The event took place at the Infirmary Ball at Ryde, and immediately after she was presented at Windsor and entered upon a gay season in London. It was toward the end of this very first season that she met for the first time the impetuous and dashing young man who at first sight of her surrendered his heart and in record time led her up the steps of a throne to share with him the ermine of sovereignty.

In their meeting and courtship lies a tale of pure romance. No story of any “castle in Spain” runs more delightfully, and no tale of the storied Alhambra quickens the pulse beats faster.

Don Alfonso XIII of Spain, who was literally born a king, his father having died several months before his birth, at the early age of 28, was still in his teens when his court and ministers began to drop thinly veiled hints concerning a possible alliance for the young sovereign. The King from earliest boyhood had showed that he had a mind and determination of his own, and whenever the matter of his marriage was broached he would make reply: “I shall marry a princess who takes my fancy, and nobody else. I want to love my wife.” A noble and worthy ambition surely, especially for a king!

The Emperor of Germany had long hoped to arrange a match between the King of Spain and a German princess, while several princesses in other countries of Europe nourished secret hopes that they might one day sit on the Spanish throne. Political exigencies, however, demanded an English princess if a suitable and acceptable one could be found for the youthful monarch.

During the spring of Don Alfonso’s twentieth year, the very year of Princess Ena’s coming out, he went with a regal suite to London. Wiseacres had picked Princess Patricia of Connaught as the probable choice of the dashing young sovereign. Indeed the whispers of Mayfair drawing-rooms had the match entirely arranged long before the King arrived in London.

June in London is often a delightful and beautiful month—a month of awakening surprises, when the trees and flowers come quickly into bloom and blossom through the spring haze. The June week chosen for the visit of the Spanish King, however, proved a disappointing exception, for mist and drizzling rain characterised the period of his stay, but all the rain and dampness of Britain, if concentrated in London, would not have marred the indefatigable energy of this strenuous young man, who not only participated in all the festivities arranged for him by the committees of the Court and Municipality, but also managed to do much extra sight-seeing and, most important of all, to make up his mind which princess should be the next Queen of Spain—his bride.

Despite the gossips who already had Princess Patricia the affianced bride of the young King, when these two met it was evident that neither attracted the other. Far too often in the history of nations personal attraction has not been a dominating influence in royal marriages. If reasons of state have demanded the marriage the individuals

THE QUEEN OF SPAIN.

have sunk their own feelings, surrendered their personal happiness—and lived on, perpetual victims of the political demands of their respective states. But Don Alfonso XIII had no desire to martyr himself in this way. No more the Princess Patricia.

The late King Edward had arranged dinners, dances and fêtes in Buckingham Palace in honour of the King of Spain. There were gathered the very flower of the youth of Britain. Don Alfonso was seen to be instantly struck by the sight of a certain golden-haired girl whom he saw flitting here and there across the rooms.

“Who is she?” he finally inquired.

“Princess Ena of Battenberg,” was the reply.

The two were presented. They talked together and were visibly interested in each other. They met again and each day so long as the King remained in London.

A few months later, King Alfonso confessed that the first moment he saw Princess Ena, he determined that she was the one who must share the responsibilities of his Kingdom with him, and that if his suit were not accepted by the Princess, or if any reasons of State intervened to prevent the marriage, his country would go without a queen so long as he lived. Fortunately, no reasons of State developed to hinder the marriage and the one obstacle raised by the Church was overcome when the Princess declared her readiness to accept the Roman Catholic Faith, for King Alfonso is known as His Most Catholic Majesty, and church influence, though waning, is still strong in Spain.

The marriage was favoured and encouraged by King Edward, that gracious and genial Uncle of Europe, and his sanction was sufficiently strong to bring about what was to King Alfonso and to Spain an exceedingly desirable union. No public announcement of the betrothal was made for six months after the visit to England, but rumour carried abroad the suspicions which were later confirmed.

CHAPTER III
COURTSHIP

Much curiosity was exhibited upon the return of King Alfonso to Madrid on the part of his courtiers. Many times and often intimates of the King pressed him indirectly in regard to this great secret, but Don Alfonso preserved a careful silence. Shortly after this visit, the King bought a racing yacht, and, upon its arrival, gave a launching party to inspect his new possession. As yet the yacht had not been named, and the King invited his guests to suggest an appropriate name. Someone suggested that it be named after himself, but the King shook his head at this; then one bolder than the rest slyly suggested that the name of the future Queen of Spain would be appropriate. “Excellent,” said his Majesty, “and now you will please inform me what is the name of the lady?” “Ah, sir,” replied the other, “on that momentous point we are as yet without information.” “Nevertheless,” said the King, “it is a good suggestion,” and forthwith sent instructions that the new yacht be named “Queen X.” The Spanish newspapers quoted the story of the King’s little joke and concluded who the real Queen was to be from the fact that the words were printed in English, a conclusion that was very soon confirmed.

Towards the close of January, following the visit to London, a Chamberlain of the King’s arrived at Biarritz in southern France, near to the border of Spain, and two days later the King, travelling incognito, left his capital for the same frontier, and it immediately became an open secret that the time of the public betrothal was at hand.

The day following the King’s arrival he joined the party of Princess Frederica of Hanover and Prince Alexander of Battenberg, Princess Henry of Battenberg—and Princess Ena. That very afternoon King Alfonso and his future Queen were publicly seen together for the first time in a motor drive along the frontier. The Press of the world was unanimous in its approval of the match, and for the most part stating that it was really a marriage of affection, reasons of State happily harmonising with the impulses of the royal hearts. The courtship which followed was very boy and girl-like according to all intimate accounts. Little gifts were exchanged and the two were constantly in each other’s company, dodging as much as possible public gaze. They strolled many miles together alone and unattended through the parks and woods and, on more than one tree carved interlaced hearts and each other’s initials just like lovers the whole world over.

One day the happy lovers were seen to proceed to a carefully selected spot where two round holes had been freshly dug out of the earth. A gardener stood nearby, apparently awaiting their coming, for in his arms he carried two small fir plants.

“This one is mine,” exclaimed the King, eagerly taking one.

“And this one is mine,” rejoined the Princess.

Each having taken a plant they set about planting them.

“We must plant the trees side by side,” said the King, “so that they may always remind us of these never-to-be-forgotten days.”

The plants were set in place and each taking a spade they began to cover the roots with earth.

The Princess finished her task first, and dropping her spade stood watching the King, laughing merrily all the while. At last the King, pausing for a moment, said:

“There is no doubt about it, I am very awkward! I must put in a month with the engineers!”

That day King Alfonso handed Princess Ena a beautiful heart set with diamonds and rubies, one of the earliest gifts to his bride-to-be.

One day they sped off into the country in the King’s motor car. Alighting just outside of the little village of Cambo they entered the village on foot. Passing a shop where postcards were on sale they went in and selected several of the picture cards to send to King Edward and Queen Maria Cristina, the Queen Mother of Spain. The village shop-keeper did not recognise his distinguished customers and began to question them if they knew when the King and Princess would come to Cambo, which they had not yet visited. King Alfonso and his fiancée, inwardly smiling, made an evasive reply indicating that they knew nothing about the Royal arrangements. After they had gone out the shopkeeper was apprised of the identity of his recent customers and his surprise resulted in his complete bewilderment.

On Friday, the 27th of January, the Princess crossed into Spain for the first time. She and the King were accompanied by her mother, the Marquis of Viana and the Marquis of Villalobar; the party motored over the International Bridge which marks and connects the borders of the two countries and, as the Princess alighted on Spanish soil, the Marquis of Villalobar remarked to the Princess: “Señora we have set foot on Spanish territory,” to which the Princess gave answer: “I am delighted that this moment has arrived; it fills me with joy and never shall I forget the first day on which I trod the soil of Spain.” The English party then proceeded to the Palace of Miramar at San Sebastian, where they were the guests of the Queen Mother.

A San Sebastian newspaper, commenting upon the appearance of Princess Victoria Eugenie said: “She is very beautiful, very elegant, very sympathetic.” These three characteristics indeed are the predominant features of her character. She has beauty, an aristocratic carriage, and her nature is deeply sympathetic.

This first visit of Princess Ena to Spain was necessarily of brief duration and, pending the arrangements of State for the marriage, the King was obliged to return to Madrid while his fiancée proceeded to Paris, there to prepare her trousseau. Don Alfonso designated his own Chamberlain—the Marquis of Villalobar—to accompany her to the French capital and there to wait attendance upon her. Simultaneously with her arrival in Paris, Don Alfonso remembered that the Princess had no automobile in France, so he telegraphed to his Chamberlain to hire one immediately for his fiancée’s use. The Chamberlain telegraphed back to the King that there was not a car to be hired in Paris good enough for the Princess, whereupon Don Alfonso wired instructions for a Panhard car to be purchased and sent the next morning to the hotel where the Princess was staying.

The King went at this time to pay an official visit to his province of Valencia and wrote to the Princess of the beautiful oranges growing there, at which the Princess manifested a desire to have some. One morning, the Marquis of Villalobar received a telegram from the King advising him that he was sending a few oranges for the Princess by a certain train and directing him to meet the train at the station and convey the fruit directly to the Princess. The telegram did not state the quantity of oranges which were being sent, and the Marquis was at a loss to know whether it would be a basketful of fruit which could be conveyed in a cab, or a truck load. Upon the arrival of the train, the astonished Chamberlain beheld the largest orange tree he had ever seen, the branches bowed with ripe fruit!

While the necessary preparations were in progress for the Royal Wedding, King Alfonso visited his betrothed at her home in the Isle of Wight. This visit, which lasted three weeks, was regarded as strictly private and during these three weeks the Royal wooing progressed under idyllic conditions. It was a period of country walks and drives, simple picnic parties, private entertainment and family dinner parties. During this visit at Osborne Cottage, the King and Princess planted a tree in commemoration of their betrothal, and during this time also His Majesty took his first lessons in the ancient Scottish game of golf, at which he later became most proficient. Their seclusion was only intruded upon by the most necessary of formal functions—a visit of respect by the Spanish Ambassador to London, by the Commander of the Royal Yacht Squadron, and certain other dignitaries whom etiquette obliged to wait upon the King. Don Alfonso lived up to his reputation of being the surest shot in Spain when on one day the Isle of Wight Gun Club held an exhibition shoot, the first prize of which was won by the visiting sovereign, who broke eight clay birds out of ten in a high wind.

Toward the close of the visit the Royal party proceeded to London for a short stay at Buckingham Palace. During the few days spent in London, Don Alfonso and his fiancée shopped together publicly in the streets of London, attended several theatrical performances and visited Madame Tussaud’s wax works where were brand new wax models of himself and his wife to be. On the 4th of May Don Alfonso returned to his own country. On Thursday, the 24th of the same month, Princess Victoria Eugenie set out for the land where she was henceforth to live as Queen.

She travelled from England via Dover and Calais. A friend who met her on her landing upon French soil remarked how sad she seemed, whereupon she replied: “It is nothing—I cannot help feeling moved when I think that I am leaving the country where I have spent so many happy days, to go toward the unknown.” That night she slept not at all. Her emotions held full sway. She passed over in sweet reverie the scenes of her sheltered girlhood in the Island home and in the charming Highlands of Scotland; and then she fondly remembered the letter her father wrote her years and years before, the only letter she had ever had from him whom she had loved so dearly, in which he had told her that one day she would come to the fair land where he was tarrying for a night—and that she would be happy there.

When first I saw Princess Ena—several years later, when she was Queen Victoria Eugenie—she had this same wistful, sorrowful expression. As I gazed into her calm eyes I instantly appreciated the great depth of feeling and beauty of nature which lay beneath the tranquil expression of her lovely features. I had been with Señor Torres, the able and amiable confidential secretary of the King, in the Royal Palace at Madrid. As I left him and tried to thread my way quite alone through the intricate maze of palace halls toward the court, I came suddenly and unexpectedly upon the King and Queen. Her Majesty was in deep black, for it was but a day or two after the death of her beloved Uncle King Edward VII of England. Her usually bright face and rosy cheeks were ashen white, and her countenance bore a saddened look which commanded sympathy. Her fair hair was soft and golden against her mourning garb and despite her grief there was dignity and majesty in her carriage. Perhaps the lines which shadowed her pale face had not come solely with her latest suffering, for in the interim of years—few as they were—more than one sore trial had been hers. Indeed, during the few short days that elapsed between her crossing the frontier of Spain and her reception into the Royal Palace as bride and Queen there occurred her baptism of blood which was to try her beyond anything she had yet endured and which was to test to the uttermost the qualities which above all others are essential to queenship.

Princess Ena came to her throne through tragic and dramatic scenes, and the spirit which she manifested in the midst of trying and harrowing circumstances convinced the Spanish people for good and all that their King had not erred in wooing the golden-haired Princess from the little Isle just off the coast of Southern England. She proved at once that she is of the stuff of which great queens are made—and that she is indeed a born mother of kings.

CHAPTER IV
A ROYAL WEDDING

The train which carried Princess Ena across France toward her unknown Destiny approached the Spanish frontier at dawn. On the platform of the first station within the borders of Spain paced the awaiting bridegroom,—eager, impatient, anxious. He smoked cigarette after cigarette as the minutes went by, pausing ever and anon to peer into the gloom which still lingered of the passing night as if to catch the first sight of the coming train. When at last it arrived and the Princess had alighted, her very first act was one which made an appeal to the Spanish people. Turning almost directly from the group of ministers, generals and courtiers who were there to greet her, she stepped toward the Mayor of the little village who was surrounded by a group of peasant delegates, and extending her hand for him to kiss, she graciously accepted the bouquet which he handed to her. This man was a field labourer—a peasant—and his comrades were all of the soil. Thus the first homage which she received and acknowledged was that which came directly from the people.

The evening of the day of her arrival at Madrid she seized a splendid opportunity. In the town of Badajoz, the capital of the Province of Estremadura, was a man condemned to death and whose sentence was to have been carried out the day following the arrival of the bride-elect. On the evening of her arrival in Spain, the people of the town, representatives of all classes, telegraphed to the Princess an earnest petition beseeching her to exercise her influence with the King for him to exercise his prerogative of Royal clemency and pardon the condemned man. The Princess went immediately to the King and told him that almost the first message she had received upon her arrival in Spain was this petition asking her to save the life of a man. This wedding present, she said, would please her more than any gift she might receive. King Alfonso instantly granted her request and the Royal pardon was despatched by telegraph, arriving at Badajoz less than one hour before the sentence was to have been carried out. Upon receipt of the news, all the bells of the town were set ringing and there was a scene of extraordinary demonstration; the whole community gathering in the streets crying: “Long live Queen Victoria Eugenie.”

Thursday the 31st of May, 1906, had been appointed for the wedding. The day broke bright and clear in Madrid, a glorious sun tempered by a cooling breeze shone throughout the day and with not a cloud in the sky. The King arrived at the Palace of the Pardo just outside of Madrid where the Princess and her suite had remained during the few days preceding the wedding, in a motor car at 6.30 in the morning; he appeared in the uniform of an Admiral. The first act of the day was an attendance at Mass in company with his bride-elect. Shortly after 8 o’clock the couple were driven in an electric brougham straight to the Ministry of Marine where the Princess donned her bridal robes. In this she was assisted by ladies-in-waiting, who had come in her suite from London, the last touch being added by Queen Maria Cristina who placed upon the head of the Princess the bridal veil. This veil was of Alençon lace and was the very one worn by herself at the time of her marriage to King Alfonso XII. This veil is being carefully preserved by Queen Victoria, who says that at the marriage of her first daughter she hopes to place it upon her head.

In Spain it is customary for the bridegroom to present his bride with her wedding gown; this is a universal custom common in all ranks of society. Don Alfonso, aided by his Royal Mother, had had prepared one of the most elaborate and exquisitely embroidered gowns ever seen at the Spanish Court Forty of the most expert Spanish women were engaged for fifty-six days in making this wonderful creation. Or, to put it another way, one woman, working constantly every day of the year, Sundays excepted, would have required almost precisely seven years to the task! The material was of the richest white satin and cloth of silver, cut in the style of dress known as Louis XVI. The dress

“To the Marquis of Villalobar.

was bordered with dull silver, slightly burnished and shaded at intervals and trimmed with exquisite rose-point lace, which was festooned over a background of cloth of silver. The lace flounce was eighteen inches in width and the whole gown was relieved with loops of orange blossoms.

The wedding took place in the Church of San Jeronimo, which is on the far side of the city from the Royal Palace. The church is not large, but there are no large churches in Madrid, Madrid being one of the most modern of all continental capitals, and big churches of the cathedral order are mostly relics of the Middle Ages. The selection of St. Jeronimo for the event was made in order that the bridal procession should of necessity pass across practically the entire city, thus affording the largest number of people an opportunity to view the spectacle.

The marriage service conformed to every last detail with the etiquette and rites of the Roman Catholic Church in Spain. The Archbishop of Toledo, Cardinal Sancha, was assisted by Dr. Brindle, Bishop of Nottingham, who had come from England especially for this occasion.

The bridal procession advanced very slowly, receiving the homage of the distinguished congregation section by section, the Spanish legislators, the courtiers, Ambassadors, the Special Missions, and the foreign Princes saluting in turn. Preceded by a crucifix, while the band continued playing the National Anthem, the King and his bride advanced and took their places before the altar. After kneeling for a short period, King Alfonso rose, and passing behind the Princess approached his mother, who was on the bride’s left, and knelt and kissed her hand. Queen Cristina, bending over, affectionately embraced her son who thereupon returned to his prie-dieu before the altar. Following the bridegroom’s example Princess Victoria Eugenie descended the altar steps and passed down the nave to where her mother stood beside the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, and warmly embraced her. The Princess then returned to the altar and the religious ceremony began.

Cardinal Sancha, arrayed in his Pontifical robes and having on either side the assisting bishops, gave his archiepiscopal crozier to the Master of Ceremonies, and addressed King Alfonso and his bride as follows:

“High and Mighty Senor Don Alfonso XIII, of Bourbon and Austria, Catholic King of Spain, I demand of your Majesty, as I also demand of your Royal Highness Victoria Eugenie Julia Ena Maria Cristina, Princess of Battenberg, to say if you know of any impediment against the celebration of this marriage, or against the validity or legality; That is to say, if there exists between your Majesty and your Royal Highness any impediment either of consanguinity, affinity, or spiritual relationship; if you have made a vow of chastity or of religion; and, finally, if there is any other impediment, your Majesty and your Royal Highness shall declare it. And the same I demand of all those here present. For the second and the third time I require that if there exist any impediment whatsoever you shall freely make it known.”

Having concluded these questions, the Cardinal paused for a while, and then, turning to the Princess, said:

“Victoria Eugenie Julia Ena Maria Cristina, Princess of Battenberg, does your Royal Highness desire to have Don Alfonso XIII, of Bourbon and Austria, Catholic King of Spain, for your lawful spouse and husband by words de presente, as is ordained by the Holy Catholic Apostolic and Roman Church?”

This was a very solemn moment, and not a whisper broke the almost painful silence. All eyes were turned toward the Princess who replied, in a clear voice:

“Yes, I do desire him.” (Si, quiero.)

His Eminence then said:

“Does your Royal Highness consent to be the lawful spouse and wife of the high and mighty Señor Don Alfonso XIII, of Bourbon and Austria, Catholic King of Spain?”

Looking at His Majesty, Princess Victoria Eugenie replied, in clear tones:

“Yes, I consent.” (Si, otorgo.)

Continuing, Cardinal Sancha asked:

“Does your Royal Highness accept the said Señor Don Alfonso XIII, of Bourbon and Austria, King of Spain, for your lawful spouse and husband?”

With even stronger emphasis, the Princess replied:

“Yes, I accept him.” (Si, recibo.)

Cardinal Sancha thereupon asked the three questions, in identical terms of King Alfonso. His Majesty, with his eyes fixed upon his bride, and in a strong and clear voice, which was distinctly heard in every part of the church, answered to the several questions, “I desire,” “I consent,” and “I accept.”

At this moment, Princess Ena betrayed emotion and glanced toward the place where her mother sat. Queen Maria Cristina was scarcely able to restrain her tears and looked alternately from the King to his bride and from the bride to her son. King Alfonso, who was perfectly calm, gave his hand to the Princess according to the directions of the Master of the Ceremonies, and while the Royal couple had their hands joined, Cardinal Sancha took his archiepiscopal staff and said:

“And I, on the part of Almighty God and of the Holy Apostles, Peter and Paul, and of the Holy Mother Church, do join in matrimony your Majesty, Don Alfonso XIII, of Bourbon and Austria, Catholic King of Spain, to your Royal Highness, Victoria Eugenie Julia Ena Maria Cristina, Princess of Battenberg, and I confirm this Sacrament of matrimony in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.—Amen.”

Then the Bridal Mass began, the King and Queen kneeling, and as the swell of music filled the church and died away, a faintly tinkling bell announced the Elevation of the Host. All knelt with heads bowed low—the most impressive moment of great silence broken only by the clinking of swords and the hum of distant voices outside the church. Mass over, the Royal bride and bridegroom proceeded to the daïs. A little lower down the Queen-Mother, in her beautiful robes and splendid jewels, stood beside her Chair of State, while kneeling on either side were the heralds, in their gorgeous uniforms. Princess Victoria Eugenie, now Queen of Spain, lovely, young, dignified and looking “every inch a Queen,” standing beside the youthful and most charming King-Bridegroom, whose face was beaming with proud happiness, all made a picture, touching, beautiful and never to be forgotten by any of those present.

Then came a most picturesque and ideal scene. The newly-married Royal pair proceeded arm-in-arm to the spot nearby where formerly a grand old monastery had stood, and where there still remains a ruined cloister, and here the register was signed, the King having chosen this spot a few days before the wedding. One corner of the cloister had been screened off with magnificent tapestries of world-wide renown, on which were depicted scenes from Don Quixote; on a wide table, covered with crimson cloth, stood the necessary implements—a silver inkstand, pens, and the books in which the signatures were to be entered. The procession of Royal personages who followed the bride and bridegroom in pairs through the quaint old cloister was led by the Prince of Wales, who conducted the Queen-Mother; then came the Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria with the Princess of Wales, followed by the other Royalties in order of rank.

On the return of the procession to the church, the assemblage dispersed according to Spanish Court etiquette, in order of precedence, commencing with the lowest, each couple advancing to the daïs, where they bowed and curtsied to the King and Queen, who were seated in their Chairs of State. The Prince and Princess of Wales were the last of the Royal guests to go. The Queen-Mother then rose, and, advancing to the front of the daïs, made a reverence to her son and his bride, both of whom rose simultaneously and returned the salutation. Last of all the Royal personages, the King and Queen passed down the nave under the baldaquin and the gorgeous scene melted away.

Just before midday, the sound of saluting cannon announced to all that the King and Queen had left the church, and the procession started for the palace in the following order:

THE BRONZE LANDAU
The Kings of Arms.
STATE CARRIAGE
Miss Cochrane
Lord and Lady William Cecil
Gentlemen-in-Waiting on Her Majesty the Queen.
STATE CARRIAGE
Her Majesty Queen Maria Cristina’s
Mistress of the Robes
The First Huntsman
Gentlemen-of-the-Chamber-in-Waiting on
His Majesty the King.
SEMI-GALA CARRIAGE
Mistress of the Robes of the Palace
Grand Chamberlain of Queen Maria Cristina.
STATE CARRIAGE
Superior Chief of the Palace
Grand Chamberlain of their Majesties
Commandant-General of the Halberdiers.
SEMI-GALA CARRIAGE
Princes Leopold and Maurice of Battenberg
STATE CARRIAGE
Princess Marie of Battenberg
(Princess of Erbach-Schönberg)
Prince Alexander of Teck
Prince Alexander of Battenberg.
CARRIAGE
The Infante Don Alfonso of Orleans
Princes Rainer and Philip of Bourbon.
SEMI-GALA CARRIAGE
The Infantas Doña Paz and Doña Eulalia.
STATE CARRIAGE
The Infantas Doña Maria Teresa and Doña
Maria Isabel
The Infante Don Fernando of Bavaria and Prince
Gennaro of Bourbon.
GALA CARRIAGE
Princess Frederica of Hanover
Princess Alexander of Teck.
COACH OF THE DUCAL CROWN
The Duchess of Saxe-Coburg
Princess Beatrice of Saxe-Coburg
Prince Henry of Prussia.
THE AMARANTH COACH
Prince Eugene of Sweden
Crown Prince of Monaco
Princes Louis Ferdinand and Alfonso of Bavaria.
THE CIPHER COACH
The Duke and Duchess of Genoa
Prince Albert of Prussia
Prince Andrew of Greece.
THE TORTOISE-SHELL COACH
Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria
Crown Prince of Portugal
Prince Albert of Belgium
The Grand Duke Vladimir of Russia.
GALA CARRIAGE
The Prince and Princess of Wales.
THE MAHOGANY COACH
Her Majesty the Queen, Doña Maria Cristina
Princess Henry of Battenberg
The Infante Don Carlos
The Infante Don Alfonso (Heir-presumptive).
THE COACH OF GOLD PANELS
(Unoccupied)
THE CROWN COACH
Their Majesties the KING and QUEEN.

The spectacle along the route of the return journey was one of indescribable rejoicing and excitement. The Pageant was magnificent, and the procession took nearly an hour to pass. The batteries of artillery thundered out a royal salute, trumpets blared, the bells of the churches pealed forth, and the populace raised a mighty roar of acclamation. Coach after coach passed along the route—each to be greeted with cheers by the delighted crowds. The beautiful “mahogany coach,” in which were seated Queen Cristina, Princess Henry of Battenberg, Don Carlos, and his son Don Alfonso, came in for a specially warm greeting. That containing the Prince and Princess of Wales was also received with shouts of welcome. At last came that which most of all the multitude had assembled to see, and to greet with demonstrations of the greatest enthusiasm—the coach of the Royal Crown drawn by eight superb horses, with nodding white plumes, and containing the Royal couple. That the young King and his beautiful bride were immensely popular there could be no doubt. One had only to hear the hearty and repeated cries of “Viva el Rey!” “Viva la Reina!” to know that the young couple had won the hearts of the people and all Spain was rejoicing at their wedding.

CHAPTER V
A BAPTISM OF BLOOD

The last street to be traversed was the Calle Mayor. All the world remembers how, as the end of the street was almost reached, a huge bouquet in which was hidden a small iron casket was tossed from a balcony, striking immediately in front of the royal carriage. With a tremendous roar, the casket exploded, killing more than thirty persons and wounding over one hundred, besides killing and maiming a number of horses. People in front of the royal carriage were killed, and behind the carriage, and even on the balconies above the street. I have seen the effect of many bombs—in Russia and the Caucasus—but never have I seen the results of a bomb as extensive as this one. Great chunks were literally gouged out of huge granite blocks in nearby buildings, and people on the balconies at a distance where safety would seem absolute met instant death. To this day the traces of this bomb are to be seen in the Calle Mayor, to my thinking one of the most curious and interesting sights in all Madrid.

The smoke had not cleared when the King, taking the head of his bride and Queen between both his hands, kissed her tenderly.

“Are you wounded?” he anxiously asked.

“No, no, I am not hurt. I swear it,” she replied.

The King threw open the carriage door and as he stepped out, calmly saluted a flag which happened to be fluttering near by. Then he assisted the Queen, whose beautiful wedding gown became smirched with blood.

According to an ancient Spanish custom a so-called “carriage of respect” was immediately behind the royal coach, a carriage which apparently was originally designed for any emergency. The King called for this carriage and after seeing the Queen comfortably seated he turned to his equerries and in a clear voice said: “Very slowly to the Palace.”

Arrived at the Palace, the King sprang lightly to the ground, and, having given his hand to the Queen, their Majesties ascended the flight of steps with ceremonious deportment, as if nothing untoward had occurred. The King saluted all the Princes in accordance with the demands of etiquette; and when one of the Royal guests asked him if he remembered that this was the anniversary of the attempt in the Rue de Rohan, in Paris, he replied with inimitable spirit, “Yes, I remember, and I notice that the bomb has grown.”

As soon as the King had arrived in the Palace he asked for exact information as to the number of victims. He received the reply, “It is not yet possible to know; we only know that there are many dead and many wounded.” Then the King passed his hand across his forehead, and, as if the words came from the bottom of his heart, said slowly, “Now I feel what it is to be King; and I feel it because if I were not King I might have had the consolation of tears in the presence of so much blood and so many victims.” His words were echoed in the heart of his young Queen who was, indeed, coming into her queenship under stress and trial.

The next morning the King and his bride, evading the court guard, swept out of the Palace gates in a motor car and slowly traversed the main streets of the city without escort or guard. Every inch of the way their Majesties were frantically cheered by the populace who appreciated their courage and considerateness in thus proving to the world at large that they had suffered no injury. Queen Victoria as she was henceforth to be known, acknowledged the salutations by bowing continuously to right and to left and constantly waving her handkerchief in greeting to the people.

The members of the Royal Household were beside themselves with fear when they saw the King and Queen, in an automobile, pass out of the Palace gates into the city absolutely unarmed and unescorted. But the King was wise that day. He threw both himself and his Queen-bride on to the honour of the people. As the car moved through the crowded thoroughfares, the people were first stunned with amazement and then bewilderment gave place to a delirium of joyous enthusiasm. Eager hands grasped the car to pull and push it. Women fought desperately to get close to the brave couple, and the Queen’s dress was actually torn to shreds by the multitude who sought to kiss the hem of her garment. When they returned to the Palace, it was 1 o’clock in the afternoon. Thus began the Queenship of the little English Princess who heretofore had led a quiet, sheltered life in her island home and among the Scottish braes and moors and in the tranquil atmosphere of the Court of St. James.

Queen Victoria at this time may have recalled the lines of George Meredith:

“We see in mould the Rose unfold,
The Soul through blood and tears.”

Verily the soul of Princess Ena was tempered by fire and brought to its fulness through blood and tears on the day when she became at once a wife and a Queen.

CHAPTER VI
WINNING A NATION’S LOVE

Don Alfonso took his bride at once from the Royal Palace at Madrid to the Palace of La Granja (the Grange or farm-house) behind the Guadarrama Mountains, in Castile, for their honeymoon. This palace is situated on a slightly pinnacled hill four thousand feet above the level of the sea, a veritable “Castle in the Air.” La Granja is surrounded by lovely woods, a garden which includes some three hundred and sixty acres, probably the finest in Spain, and even Versailles cannot boast of more numerous or lovelier fountains than this charming country residence. The laying out of the gardens alone cost eight millions of dollars. It is easy to understand why King Alfonso selected this spot for the honeymoon; it is the one spot in Spain, above all others, where royal lovers might hope to find seclusion amidst bowers of foliage musical with birds, and where they might hope to wipe from their recollection the vivid memories of the tragic scene of their wedding day.

Spain is one of the richest of countries in regard to the number of its palaces. Until the reign of Philip II, the Kings of Spain did not maintain any one permanent Royal residence, but journeyed from region to region, maintaining a Palace in practically every district of the country, and, as a result of this custom much of the history of Spain is to be found and embodied and crystallised in the various Castles which are inherited by the Royal family of to-day. There is the Alcazar at Seville, which is associated with Pedro the Cruel. There is the Retiro, built to divert the attention of Philip IV from the decay and backsliding of his country; the Escorial in which the gloomy and melancholy Philip II has perpetuated his own memory in stone; and La Granja, which marks the bitterness and humiliation of Cristina before Garca and his rude soldiery; and Miramar at San Sebastian, in which a widowed Queen secluded herself to mourn the loss of her kingly spouse! Time was indeed when, within comparatively easy distance of Madrid, there were no less than thirty-five Royal residences; to-day only five of these, however, are still kept up, but throughout the rest of the country are many other Palaces.

It would be indeed a delightful task to write an entire book on the palaces of the Kings of Spain. El Pardo, Aranjuez, Miramar, El Escorial, El Alcazar and the Royal Palace of Madrid, but even then it would indeed be difficult to describe in words the beauty and the wondrous maze and labyrinths of woodland and garden; the galleries of tapestry and painting; the statutes; the armory; the varied treasures which they all contain. George Borrow, who early made familiar to the English-speaking world the wondrous beauties and treasure houses of all Spain, waxed most eloquent over the palace of Alcazar at Seville. “Cold, cold must be the heart,” exclaimed Borrow at the Alcazar, “which can remain insensible to the beauties of this magic scene. Often have I shed tears of rapture whilst I beheld it and listened to the thrush and the nightingale piping forth their melodious songs in the woods and inhaled the breeze laden with the perfume of the thousand orange gardens of Seville.” La Granja, however, remains the favourite abiding place of all the present Royal family, hallowed by the sweet memories of honeymoon days.

Each summer the Royal family have returned to La Granja for two months. Here as nowhere else the Queen leads a life of charming simplicity, a life almost like that she was accustomed to in England. Here the King and Queen have but little company. They walk and ride and drive together. The King is a keen sportsman and while he shoots, the Queen goes a-fishing. Trout are abundant in the streams that come dashing down from the higher mountains and she is adept at landing the speckled beauties—only she will not bait her own hooks!

A golf course has been laid out and at this game the Queen excels her royal spouse. As a matter of fact polo is more to the King’s taste and to La Granja he always takes the best of his string of forty polo ponies. Here it may be truly said the King and Queen are idyllically happy. Free from the ceremony of political and social circles they are the boy and girl sweethearts once more. They go through country lanes hand in hand and follow woodland paths unescorted. As La Granja was their haven of quiet after their turbulent wedding day, so has it since been their harbour of peace and happiness away from the harassing cares of sovereignty.

Queen Victoria Eugenie had been only a few days in the country which was henceforth to be her own, when she had made great progress in the winning of the nation. Her sympathy for the condemned man, her poise and self-command in the face of shock and danger had all a tremendous influence in prejudicing people in her favour. If possible, a yet more difficult task now confronted her; for she faced the daily scrutiny of court and people.

One of the earliest duties which she had to perform was to attend a bull fight. The Spanish people could never give absolute allegiance to a sovereign who did not in some measure share their joy and enthusiasm in this national and tradition-honoured sport. So to a bull fight went the Queen. Simple English girl that she was, with fine sensibilities and delicate feelings, we can well appreciate her horror at it all. When the moment had arrived for the signal to be given from the Royal Box for the fight to begin all eyes were turned expectantly toward the King, but it was the young Queen who fluttered the white scarf. When the crowd saw this, they rose like one man, frantically cheering their Queen. It was distinctly a popular thing to do.

Ordinarily, six bulls are despatched at a single fight, but before death, each bull generally kills one to three horses besides horribly goring others and sometimes injuring one or more of the men. That a bull fight is not a pleasant thing to watch, I know, for I have seen several. At one which I attended on the Day of Ascension (bull fights are always held on Sundays and religious fête days) the killing of the six bulls was accompanied by the outright killing of eleven horses and the maiming of four others, while one man was tossed high in the air by a bull and two others hurt by their horses falling on them. The fourteen thousand spectators were delirious with delight and called it “a good bull fight.”

The young Queen remained in the Royal Box throughout the correda and thus concluded her initiation into Queenship.

The year following the marriage sped to a happy close. The Queen grew increasingly popular. As the months went on, the shock of the wedding day drifted into a hideous memory, and the hearty enthusiasm of the Spanish people melted the somewhat austere bearing which was native to her and she began to return the cordial greetings of the people everywhere she went. Nowhere on earth—not

THE PROCESSION OF BULL FIGHTERS.

even in France—are beautiful women more appreciated than in Spain, and Queen Victoria is lovely to look upon. She is tall and of majestic bearing. She has an abundance of golden hair which she wears in long rich braids wound about the back of her head and generally loosely dressed in front. She has eyes of a singularly clear blue and quite as sharp and twinkling as are the King’s snapping brown eyes,—and his are famous.

“Such exquisite colouring!” is an exclamation frequently heard concerning her. At nineteen she combined all the freshness of youth with the dignity of maturity, and to-day, though she is three times a mother, she retains the high colour characteristic of English women, and set against a clear white skin. The first time I saw her close, her cheeks reminded me of charming porcelain—if it were not trite, I would say a bit of Dresden.

With all her instinctive charm she has a genius for dressing well. In this, again, she easily and naturally excels her sister Queens.

When first she went to San Sebastian, the fashionable mid-summer watering resort of Spain on the west coast near the northern border, she appeared like a modern Gainsborough duchess. Her stylishly cut gowns worn with grace and perfect naturalness were offset by great hats which were much in vogue at that time and which resemble the picturesque Gainsboroughs. She is a woman who can carry any amount of tasteful dressing, but her own preference seems to be toward simplicity.

A more elegant woman one rarely sees anywhere in the world. The eye of the Spanish people, quick and sensitive to taste and beauty instantly caught all these details, and even if her nature, disposition and character were not as they are, she would still be idolised for her beauty alone.

At Seville, in the south of Spain, where beauty is worshipped even more than in the north the people went mad over her on her very first ride through the streets—from the railroad station to the Alcazar, as the ancient Moorish palace there is called. Throughout southern Spain—Andalusia—there is a Moorish strain noticeable in the people. The women are of the swarthy type, with large lustrous eyes, hair of ebony, and deep passionate natures that one senses almost tangibly. As with most people of this type and character, the opposite type makes a tremendous appeal to them. The golden beauty of the fair young Queen took Seville by storm. To this day, and probably for all time, she is and will be known in the south as the “Idol of Andalusia.”

One small detail which pleased the Andalusian people greatly was her donning the mantilla on appropriate occasions. The mantilla is a lace scarf, sometimes white and sometimes black, which is worn over the head by women in place of a hat Any lace scarf, however, is not a mantilla, and there are certain precise ways of wearing this typically Spanish headdress. To be exact, there are thirteen different ways of adjusting it, each way adapted to a particular occasion. For example, the Sevillano will wear a black mantilla low over her head at a funeral, and a white mantilla high over her head,—the elevation being accomplished by the aid of a huge amber comb,—at a bull fight or in a slightly different arrangement for a wedding. The art of adjusting the mantilla is almost as difficult to acquire as the use of castanets or some of the Andalusian dance steps. It is seldom that one not of Spanish blood can wear a mantilla becomingly at all, but on Queen Victoria Eugenie it looks quite natural. A peculiar thing about Andalusian women is that they are so altogether charming in the mantilla that not one in a thousand can wear any kind of a dress hat, even one strictly à la mode and direct from Paris. The women of Southern Spain and the mantilla seem peculiarly adapted to go together. The cost of a mantilla by the way is as much as of the most fashionable Paris hats. Ordinary ones frequently cost from thirty to fifty dollars, and specially good ones as much as one hundred dollars.

In Seville Queen Victoria Eugenie was as quick to catch the warmth of spirit as the Sevillanos were to appreciate her beauty and now, after five years she looks forward to her annual visit to the ancient Moorish city as to no other city in the kingdom.

A custom which prevails in Andalusia and which nearly always results in extreme embarrassment to foreign ladies, is the passing of remarks out loud by passers-by, of a wholly personal nature. When an Andalusian sees a beautiful woman he is filled with joy and gladness and he wants her to know the pleasure she has given him by the flash of her eye or the loveliness of her face or form—so he spontaneously exclaims: “What beauty!” “How sympathetic.” “Those eyes!” “Such hair!” or whatnot. The women of that country, from the lowliest right up to the wives of the most exclusive grandees, expect this appreciation and miss it when they fail to catch what strangers may say of them.

Queen Victoria had had this all explained to her so that she was prepared for direct remarks of this nature. Once she laughed outright as an enthusiastic Andalusian cried out: “You are not only Queen of Spain; you are the Queen of Beautiful Women.”

In her visits to Seville, the Queen is ever and always reminded of her dearly beloved father, for the one letter which she had from him was written from Seville, the letter in which he had told her that one day she would come to this lovely land and be very happy. This is a happy memory, despite the tinge of sadness, and in Seville, she says she is always most happy.

CHAPTER VII
DON ALFONSO XIII

What manner of man is the young King whom the Island Princess married?

Don Alfonso XIII is unique among the kings of the earth, inasmuch as he was practically born a king. His father, Alfonso XII, died five months before he was born. The widowed Queen, his mother, became the Regent of the Throne, but the little Alfonso XIII knew, from the time he knew anything, that he was a ruler already, where most kings have spent years of preparation for kingship while heirs-apparent.

He was born May 17, 1886. He received the tenderest care and attention from his mother; her favourite pet name for him while he was a baby was “Puby.” From the time of his birth he appeared delicate, which occasioned the greatest solicitude for his physical well-being.

He has always manifested the greatest love for his mother. From earliest childhood he entertained for her a supreme regard and affection, and frequently when he was inclined to be headstrong and oppose the wishes of his governesses the Queen Regent—as she was called until Alfonso reached the age of sixteen—would be called to make him obey. Her methods were all her own, her coercion only that of love.

One winter morning Alfonso was reluctant to take his usual cold bath and stubbornly remained in bed. His nurses made appeal after appeal to him, but his Majesty remained obdurate. Finally, in despair, the nurse went to his mother the Queen Regent.

“You must take your bath, Baby,” said the Queen, coming to his bedside.

The baby king gave no answer.

“If I tell you to do it, you will—won’t you?”

Again no response.

“Very well, then,” continued the Queen, “I will not ask you again, but I shall go to my room and cry because you will not obey me. Do you wish that?”

“No, no, mamma,” cried the young Alfonso, and flinging aside the bed clothes he sprang from the bed and took his cold plunge.

King Alfonso was brought up in this atmosphere of love and affection and it is doubtless owing to this that his own nature is so warm and lovable to-day.

When he was four years old, he fell very ill. His anxious mother watched constantly by his bedside. One day, he turned his little face toward where she was sitting and said: “Are you not very tired, mother mine? Do you love me so very much? Do go to bed. You must be so tired. I think I ought to send you away.”

Not until he was seven years of age did he begin any regular course of studies and then he began with only one hour a day. In a short time, however, he had learned to read and write easily. Much of his boyhood was spent at the beautiful Miramar palace. After he had learned to read and write, the study of geography and history came next and a little later French and Latin. From all accounts, the boy Alfonso was quite as full of mischief and capers as are most small boys.

One of his Chamberlains relates the story that, when he was eight years old, streams of water were one day seen running down the corridor from the bathroom of the Royal Palace. The door of the apartment was securely fastened and the little fellow refused admission to any one until finally the Queen herself was sent for, and, when she demanded admittance, found her Royal son enjoying what he called “A Naval Battle in High Seas,” the ships being logs which he had collected from various wood baskets and his high seas, the overflowing bathtub.

Queen Cristina found Alfonso a little backward in acquiring German, and as none of the text-books then used in Spain seemed adapted to his use, she went to the trouble of preparing a grammar for him, which enabled him to become familiar with the rules of the language in a simple and amusing form. Alfonso has always been of an inquiring turn of mind, and the interest he has recently displayed in aeroplanes and automobiles is the natural outcome of the interest he displayed in all mechanics when a mere boy.

Mr. Frederic Courtland Penfield has related as one of his experiences in Spain the breaking down of his motor car near La Granja which necessitated sending to Madrid for new parts to replace the damaged mechanism. While the men were at work upon the machine, the King happened along, and, not content with watching the progress of the repairs, he proceeded to direct the men himself, getting down under the car and examining minutely each of its parts and aiding the men by constant suggestion. He took apparently all the interest in the work of a boy who has removed the back of his first watch to see the wheels go round. Not until the car was ready to proceed did the King leave the spot.

As a matter of fact, Don Alfonso is the most ardent motorist in Spain and the most skilful if not the most reckless driver. He has several 70 h.p. machines and when he drives these machines in the country, he sometimes goes at the rate of seventy-five and eighty miles an hour. During the Spring months, when the court is at La Granja, the King comes to Madrid several times a week. The distance is ninety kilometres and he allows one hour and a quarter for the journey. The road lies right across the Guadarrama mountains which rise to a height of six thousand feet. The ascent and descent of these mountains is tremendously steep, being made by a series of loops like the roads which cross the Alps in Switzerland. Only the most skilled chauffeurs can go over this road at even a moderate rate of speed, but the King goes all the way at high speed, averaging for the entire distance nearly a mile a minute.

CHAPTER VIII
A KING’S LIFE

Amazing few are the people outside his kingdom who do not know him who appreciate the unusual personality of this precocious young king. Indeed, he must be known to be appreciated.

A tall, athletic young man of narrow but muscular physique, with a smooth, olive skin, dartling black-brown eyes and a kaleidoscopic expression,—Don Alfonso is one to command attention, interest and respect. He sits a horse superbly. He excels in everything he undertakes. He is the surest shot in Spain; the most skilful as well as the most reckless motorist, a capable yachtsman, an efficient, dependable polo-player,—above all he has infinite pluck and daring. The world is familiar with his courage not only at the time of the bomb on his wedding day but on many other occasions when he has displayed iron nerve and superb poise. The first time I had a formal audience with His Majesty, I gathered my real impressions of the man. After this audience, I saw him many times and under varied circumstances, but always the impressions of the first day were deepened and confirmed. As I entered his study in the palace of Madrid, he came with quick, nervous step toward me and grasping me firmly by the hand, spoke words of greeting in the Spanish language.

“Your Majesty has no objection to English?” I asked, as he still tightly held my hand.

“Objection? Rather not, provided you can stand for my wretched English.” This was the only note of affectation in King Alfonso’s entire conversation. He speaks English fluently, correctly and idiomatically.

“Put aside your hat and gloves and sit down. Let us talk,” he continued. I placed my hat aside as he bade me and started to seat myself opposite the chair His Majesty had already taken.

“Not there, not so far away,” he exclaimed. “Come here,” and he patted with the palm of his hand the sofa which was in juxtaposition to his chair.

“Have a cigarette,” he added, as I moved close to him and he held out a silver cigarette case with a small monogram in the upper left hand corner.

“May I smoke?” I queried, I must confess, in some surprise.

“Naturally, why not? Here”—and before I had fairly taken the cigarette, His Majesty, with characteristic quickness had struck a wax vesta and was holding it toward my mouth that I might get my light.

My slow wits happily returned in time for me to catch the match from the Royal fingers, to offer it first to him and then light my own. These were the preliminaries. They were over in a minute. After we had lighted our cigarettes, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and the joints of his fingers closed against each other before him. He spoke rapidly but thoughtfully, and in his voice was the ring of a man of enthusiasms.

Beneath the smooth, olive skin and the flashing black eyes, one felt a strong, passionate nature. One got instantly behind the glamour of royalty and saw only the man, the man of conviction and of courage,—the man of Destiny.

No photograph has ever portrayed King Alfonso. He is unphotographable. The man is not in his features but in his expressions, his manners, his atmosphere of charming manliness; above all in the scintillating glints of his flashing eyes.

“You have come at a very interesting moment in our history,” he said, “because it is a moment of change for Spain. We are just recovering from our long era of costly wars, ending with the disastrous war with America, and our recent colonial wars.” He paused and smiled genially as he added, “In the war with America, we were badly beaten, but that is a matter which has now passed into history and that page of our history we have turned over. I think I can speak for everyone in Spain when I say that not the slightest feeling of rancour remains with us; and I have ample evidence that the American people have none but the best of wishes for Spain.” I replied that many Americans were ready to congratulate Spain in being well rid of Cuba and the Philippines, those frightfully expensive drains on the resources of Spain—which are proving a by no means light drain upon the resources of America.

His Majesty’s eyes twinkled merrily as he looked directly into my face. After a brief pause, he went on: “However that may be, a new era for Spain began with the close of the war. The recent war in Africa cost us heavily—fifty-three million pesetas ($10,600,000).”

“Surely that is not much as the cost of wars go nowadays,” I interrupted.

“No, quite true—for a modern war, it was not so expensive,” he returned, “especially in view of the results we have obtained.”

Then he sketched the present lines of Spanish influence in Morocco and outlined the policy of Spain for the development of this influence and the increase of trade. Incidentally, he paid a high tribute to the courage and marksmanship of the Moors. “They don’t fire till they see the whites of the eyes of the approaching troops and they pick the officers first of all with amazing accuracy.”

“That war being now over,” he went on, “we have entered a period of peace and it is my aim to further the development of Spain in every way possible. It would be interesting to realise all that we have already begun, what we are about to do and what we hope to do in the next years before us.”

I lighted another cigarette and the King, without shifting his position, began afresh.

“First of all, we are giving our attention to each branch of the State separately. I have my ambitions for the army, the reëstablishment of the navy, the general education of the people and how we hope to deal with other internal problems, the Republicans, the Socialists, the Anarchists and others.”

During the last decade I have listened to statesmen and leaders of men in almost every country of Europe and in America, but I have never met any man who could say as much in an hour as did King Alfonso; I have never met a politician or statesman who was so intimately familiar with small details, and I have never met anyone who could talk so succinctly to the point. He elucidated each question with graphic clearness. Each subject that he took up in turn, he summarised. As a feat of intellectual conversation, it was without parallel so far as my experience extends. He expressed himself very rapidly, in clear, incisive language, showing toward each topic an enthusiasm and personal interest almost incredible. At the same time, he watched my expression carefully and at the least shadow of question which I betrayed, he delved deeper into details in order to make everything perfectly clear. I touched upon the question of the Church in Spain and found His Majesty’s views as liberal and as clear as they were upon the secular subjects. He went on, however, to explain that any hasty reform was impractical, although it was the project of his government to undertake all of them as circumstances would permit. If he were to introduce liberal and progressive measures at once, the opposition would throw the whole country into a turmoil.

Politically, the attitude of the King is for all that makes for the common weal of Spain in the platforms of all parties and movements—even those that are opposed to his monarchy.

The amazing development of Spain during the last decade is directly due to the extraordinary dynamic spirit which has been exhibited by this remarkable young King. No department of national life has been neglected by him.

The Iberian peninsula has long been regarded as a doubtful, not to say dangerous proposition from a financial standpoint. Spain and Portugal have been judged more or less alike. No greater mistake could ever have been made. Portugal has long been in the hands of aristocratic buccaneers, pirates in broadcloth, but none the less rascals of a most desperate character. The Portugal Ship of State was looted and scuttled by the very class who constituted her monarchy. Nowhere could one find a dominant personality.

Spain on the other hand is well equipped with statesmen, with diplomats, with politicians of large calibre and more so now than in any decade of recent centuries and all because of the personal attention given to the affairs of state by King Alfonso. Don Alfonso is the hero and the idol of the whole Spanish army. From earliest boyhood, he devoted a large part of his time to building and strengthening the army and increasing its esprit de corps. Two forenoons of every week, he devotes to military audiences. He never tires of reviewing troops, often leaving the palace at six o’clock in the morning to visit some outlying garrison. When he is caught overnight in some remote town, he is sure to be up early the next morning to inspect any body of troops which may be quartered in the neighbourhood. I recall once seeing the King overtake a body of infantry in the street called Arenal, in Madrid. As soon as the royal automobile came up even with the rear rank, the order was given to the troops to have them swing round so as to face the sovereign in salute as he went past. The King at once rose to his feet in the car, at the same time uncovering, and as the car swept by the regiment, his piercing, intelligent eyes seemed to dart an individual glance to each soldier along the entire line. Not once did his eyes wander from the troops, although a hurrahing crowd blocked the pavement on the other side of the street. Ask any soldiers of the Mellila campaign who wore the cool sun helmets that the King presented from his private purse, speak the name of the King to any officer of the Spanish army and see him square his shoulders.

King Alfonso does not trust entirely to military supremacy, however, for he believes in the peaceful

KING ALFONSO AND HIS HEIR.

progression of his country and appreciates to the full the necessity of economic development. At the time of the Spanish-American war when Cuba and the Philippines were lost to Spain, it seemed as if her greatest markets had been taken from her, but during recent years, since Don Alfonso has extensively taken up the reins of sovereignty, he has stimulated commerce and trade in other parts of the world. Spain has seaports which give her splendid natural commercial advantages. A few years since, Spain went quietly but earnestly to work to build up an exchange trade with the new countries of the world which seemed to offer the greatest opportunity for large commercial expansion,—trade with the Argentine Republic, Paraguay, Brazil, Chili, Peru and Mexico. During the last few years, under the wise counsel of the King, these states have been courted diplomatically and socially to the incalculable stimulus of trade; and with what result? In ten years, Spanish bonds have doubled in value. Spain now sends $12,000,000 worth of textiles, minerals and wines to the Argentine while only six years ago, 1905, the amount was only $6,000,000. In Uruguay, almost a proportionate increase has been witnessed since 1905 when $9,000,000 worth of exports went from Spain and it is probable that within the near future, Spain will be sending $20,000,000 worth of stuffs to Uruguay alone.

Spain’s trade with Mexico has been particularly happy because the credit system is practically non-existent. Of $7,000,000 worth of goods shipped to Mexico in one recent year, 90 per cent. was paid for in cash. To the United States, Spain sends annually approximately $8,000,000 worth of minerals, cork, olives, Malaga grapes, etc., and in return purchases from us nearly $30,000,000 worth of goods. Raw cotton is the chief import from the United States, but modern machinery forms a big item. Spain, however, buys most of her goods from Great Britain and the amount shipped annually to the Iberian Kingdom averages $80,000,000. This is the result of long years of trade study, nursed and built up and consequently it is less significant than the trade with South America which has received such extraordinary stimulus, not in ten but in five years, or in other words, since King Alfonso has been personally concerned with this phase of the development of his kingdom. Spain is a country in which the people went in a single bound from petroleum to electricity and this is indicative of her entire development. She is rapidly skipping through the gas stage of progress through which the rest of the world has so long toiled.

The keynote of King Alfonso’s character is in his courageous determination. Once convinced of what is right, I believe he would be as steadfast as the rugged crags of the Pyrenees, that he could be swayed by neither favourites nor ministers, threats nor prayers.

The sense of duty has been highly developed in him, thanks to the careful training he received at the hands of Queen Maria Cristina, and his sense of moral obligation is absolute.

The general idea of the King is to encourage the industrial and economic development of the country, at the same time he is upholding the state, and to strengthen at every point the bulwarks of the state until its whole fibre is of the strongest character. Commercial development without a thoroughly grounded state, he believes to be worthless.

Don Alfonso XIII believes in Spain. He glories in her proud past and he has the conviction that greater glories and prosperity are still awaiting her. It is toward her greater future that he is ever looking, and with that greater future in view, so he is building. He wants the world to know Spain. He wants tourists from every country to come and see her natural beauties, her resources and her possibilities. To stimulate interest abroad he is now giving special attention to the seemingly trivial, but after all most important matter, namely, better roads throughout the Kingdom and improved hotels. Till now, many of the roads of Spain are utterly wretched. When Spain can vie with France in her road beds, the Sovereign believes that many more tourists will come, especially in view of the increasing use of automobiles. And having come to the country he wants people made comfortable.

There are, at this time, but few first-class hotels in Spain. There is one at Granada, built by the Duke of San Pedro, and others at Algiciras and Ronda. The hotels of Madrid are all rather bad and excessively expensive. The prices are paramount to the best hotels of London and Paris and the rooms are small, poorly equipped and in general comfort are decidedly lacking. The King manifested his interest to the extent of asking me many minute details about the hotel where I was lodged, the size of my room, number of windows, was there running water (which there was not), the kind of bed, etc., etc. He knew quite well, however, the actual conditions before he asked the questions. A new Ritz-Carlton was therefore built in Madrid through the personal interest and influence of the King, and it is the aim of His Majesty to make this the first of a chain of good hotels all over Spain. This practical interest in details of this character indicates that he is no mere dreamer of empires, no idealist who lives in the future because he is looking forward. Like all strong men of history, King Alfonso is a practical idealist who gives heed to each step of the road he is travelling, conscious that on the work of to-day the work of to-morrow must stand.

History will ultimately place him, but at twenty-four he has already taken his place among the signal figures of his time and his promise for the future is immeasurable.

An estimate of King Alfonso’s statecraft at so early a period is not possible. But there is great promise in the young sovereign. Don Alfonso does everything that he undertakes. It is a bred-in-the-bone characteristic with him to excel in all things.

King Alfonso, like King George in England, is one of the best shots in his kingdom. This, at least, is a matter of merit, and cannot be said as a courtesy to the King. This year, King Alfonso came out second best at the annual pigeon shoot, having taken nineteen birds out of twenty-one. The high record was twenty-one out of twenty-three. Previous years, the King has captured the first prize.

The English Princess who became a Spanish Queen, therefore, came to a land of extraordinary activity. Spain’s development is proceeding with greater rapidity than in any other country in Europe during the present decade. King Alfonso is the most wideawake, alert, progressive man in Spain and he is controlled by a tremendous ambition to bring Spain into line with the most modern of nations. He is kept well informed as to what all parties in his kingdom are doing—what they want and why they want it. He is as quick to accept a plank from the platform of the Republicans or Socialists as from the Liberals or Monarchists. By nature, Don Alfonso is a radical. It is by virtue of his personality and what he has accomplished for Spain that he is the most popular man in his Kingdom. Republicans to whom I have put the question: “If a Republic were declared in Spain, who would be the first national leader—the first president?” The answer has been “probably Don Alfonso. He is the most popular man in the country.”

CHAPTER IX
COURAGE AND KINGSHIP

One afternoon, shortly after the audience already referred to, I was crossing the Plaza de Oriente in Madrid, towards the Royal Palace. An automobile came whirling up from the Casa de Campo and as it passed, a hand waved through the window. It was the spontaneous action of a man aglow with youth and energy. Just beyond, the car stopped, the door opened, and the King jumped out. I was so surprised I even forgot to throw away the cigar I was smoking. In the friendliest and most natural way possible, His Majesty shook my hand and told me that at five o’clock they were going to play polo for the Queen’s cup at the Casa de Campo grounds and if I cared to go along, to find one of the Palace secretaries and tell him to order a carriage for me from the royal mews.

It did not take long to find Don Pablo Churruca, who promptly procured the carriage and we drove together through the lovely gardens of the Royal Park, arranged by the Queen Maria Cristina, to the polo field. These polo grounds are some three or four miles from the Palace, and command an imposing panorama of Guadarrama mountains which, owing to their considerable height, are snow-capped until late June. The polo field was laid out by the Marquis of Viana, the King’s bosom friend and his Master of the Horse. The Marquis is prouder of this polo field than almost anything else in the world, and with reason. It is a magnificent greensward, kept in perfect condition. Here the King comes to play three times a week during the stay of the Court in Madrid.

Don Alfonso looks upon his regular daily exercise as much as a part of his kingly duties as signing documents or reviewing troops. He is the only polo-playing sovereign in the world, and in this, as in everything else, he is an enthusiast.

That day, he had a string of seventeen ponies in charge of eleven grooms on hand for frequent changes. At the royal mews, he has more than double this number, most of them at present coming from the Argentine Republic.

King Alfonso is at his best in the saddle. He rides like a born horseman and nowhere,—not even in military uniform,—does he appear to better advantage than at polo. His reckless energy and boundless spirit are ever to the fore. When he starts after the ball, he goes full tilt, showing no consideration, asking none. As the riders sweep up and down and across the field, the King is ever in the thickest of the game, riding hard, driving hard and holding his own with the strongest and best. During the succeeding weeks I went many times to the Polo games.

At the close of the game each day, His Majesty would walk across the field to ask the few invited guests present to join the players for tea which is served in a spacious tent erected near to the club châlet. The usual players whom I saw there were the Duke of Alba, the Marquis of Viana, the Marquis of Santo Domingo, Count de la Cimera, Count de la Maza and Mr. Marshal, an English professional. Besides these players there were usually three or four other gentlemen and half a dozen ladies.

After the game, the King would come strolling across the grounds in his riding togs, a loose coat on, but unbuttoned, a grey soft hat carelessly balanced on the back of his head. As he approached, the gentlemen would uncover as would His Majesty, and in turn he would greet each one. As he shook hands with the ladies, each in turn would do a fascinating curtsey. Then all would repair into the tent—and the rest was like afternoon tea in any English country house. And incidentally, English is the language most used by all the company. The King and several of the players use English almost precisely as their mother tongue.

The fearlessness of Don Alfonso at polo is typical of his whole life. He is a fatalist. His spirit is as much endless courage as an absolute lack of the knowledge of fear. I doubt if he has any conception of the nature or quality of that emotion.

Now that the lamented King Edward is gone, it will perhaps be no indiscretion to make public an incident in connection with King Alfonso’s going to Barcelona when that city was believed to be on the eve of a revolution. “I am needed there,” said Don Alfonso. Despite the entreaties of the entire court, he planned to go. Just before the day he was to start from the capital, King Edward summoned one of the Spanish Embassy in London. He said that he had not slept the entire night through worry about King Alfonso’s going to Barcelona. He begged that a message be immediately sent to Madrid beseeching Alfonso to abandon the trip. Don Alfonso acknowledged the message. But, he proceeded to Barcelona. The results of the trip vindicated the young King’s wisdom. The long and short of it is, King Alfonso is a man, a man to be trusted in a tight place. His theory is, “If they set out to kill me, they will get me anyway, so in the meantime, why bother my head about it?” This allegiance to duty is with him a passion, a veritable religion in the highest sense.

Take the regular routine of the King’s day. He rises early—from seven to seven-thirty; some mornings when he reviews troops, he leaves the Palace at six. He is occupied with his correspondence and state papers until ten when he receives the Prime Minister and one other minister. The Premier reports every morning and the other members of the Council are received every day in turn. Then come the regular audiences which occupy him until one-thirty or two, when he takes luncheon. In the afternoon, he does whatever chores may come up,—the opening of a bazaar or exhibition, or any of the endless calls which are made upon the sovereign. At four, he has tea with the Queen and then goes to polo or pigeon shooting or takes his regular exercise, whatever it may be for the day. Upon his return, there are sometimes further audiences, and always before dressing for dinner, he peruses the day’s cuttings from the newspapers of the world. Forty-six daily newspapers come regularly to the Palace. Each afternoon, the King’s private secretaries (there are five of them in all, appointed from the diplomatic corps) glean from these every item of news likely to be of interest to the sovereign. Nothing is skipped, criticism and unkindly comment go in with all the rest. These clippings are pasted on sheets of paper which are bound together with a red and yellow cord and left on His Majesty’s table.

At eight-thirty he dines. Week day evenings, the King goes to whatever social functions he has to attend. King Alfonso appreciates his social duties as a sovereign quite as much as his duties of state.

Coming down the main stairway of a house in Madrid after a dance at five o’clock in the morning once he met one of his secretaries. “You lucky beggar,” he exclaimed, “you need not get out of your bed before three in the afternoon, while I must be up to receive my ministers as usual!” One of the great reasons for the popularity of King Alfonso is his attention to social affairs. He enters into these functions with the same zest that he does everything else and he is seldom accused of putting a damper on an occasion by leaving too early.

The great fact concerning Don Alfonso that appeals to me is his extreme humanness. He is ever and always on the spot. In his movements, he is as quick as lightning and his mind is extraordinarily alert. Disciplined to the very highest pitch of efficiency, he is an all round able man, and would be so considered in any walk of life. He is never too busy to attend to the last, smallest detail concerning any matter in his Kingdom.

One day he said to me, “Anything that you want in Spain, or about Spain, don’t go anywhere else—let me know directly.”

Whether he is presiding over his Council of Ministers or amiably and gracefully performing some ceremony incident to the duties of sovereignty or receiving in audience, or playing polo with his own chosen companions, or driving his great 70 h.p. car across country at reckless speed, or taking tea with the Queen, he is always at once the same blithe spirit, the spontaneous youth and the earnest man of affairs. In uniform, he looks a born soldier. At polo, he appears like a man who lives for sport. In ordinary attire, he is the dapper young blood of any capital city, sleek, well-groomed, immaculate. His face is as elusive as a kaleidoscope, changing each second. Smiles and laughter play around his mouth and eyes but underneath the surface one instinctively feels the intense, thoughtful nature of an inspired leader of men.

These glimpses of the man—Alfonso,—his character, temperament and personality, may enable us to picture the environment of the English Princess, whose early life was spent in the tranquil atmosphere of the Isle of Wight and the favourite Scottish home of Queen Victoria of England. From the moment of her entrance into Spain, she has lived amid strenuous scenes, and in an atmosphere as different from her native land as anything could be. Yet she has risen to it all like the born Queen she is. That the lurking dangers which so often apprise her royal spouse, sorely try her spirit and sometimes wear her nerves is not to be wondered at. That she exercises the control she does is the cause of our admiration.

Not since the year 1170 had an English Queen been called to the throne of Spain. In that year, Alfonso VIII, wooed and won the English Eleanor, who, as Queen, distinguished herself as a patroness of scholarship and learning, largely supporting by contribution, the University of Palencia. It is the belief and hope of Spain, that Queen Victoria will carry into Spain English traditions along this line and during the years of her reign materially raise the educational standard of the whole people. Certain it is that any work which she attempts will be heartily encouraged by her royal spouse.

Queenship carries with it myriad duties,—not merely the duties of sovereign, official or political as the case may be, but first and foremost, the duties of motherhood, the duties of bearing and rearing kings and queens to be. For this high office, Queen Victoria was soon to demonstrate her aptitude and the best part of her romance lies in the story of the royal princes of Spain which have blessed the marriage during the first four years.

CHAPTER X
THE PRINCE OF ASTURIAS

One year to a month after the Royal marriage Spain’s happiness and satisfaction in the new Queen were made complete by the birth of an heir to the throne. The official title of the newcomer, as heir apparent, is Prince of Asturias, and as such he is always spoken of, but in addition, he has a string of names almost as long as his Royal father’s string of polo ponies. He is now three years of age and accomplished in many things, but he cannot yet repeat his full name! Indeed, it seems probable that he will be considerably older before he can memorise them all in proper sequence. Fancy this wee boy learning to write: Alfonso Pius Christian Edward Francis William Charles Henry Eugene Ferdinand Anthony Venancio, Prince of Asturias, heir to the thrones of Spain, Castile, Leon, Aragon, the Two Sicillies, Jerusalem, Navarre, Granada, Toledo, Valencia, Galicia, Majolica, Minorca, Seville, Sardinia, Cordova, Corsica, Murcie, Jean, Algarne, Algeciras, Gibraltar, the Canary Islands, the Oriental and Occidental Indies; Archdukedom of Austria, dukedoms of Burgundy, Brabant and Milan; Count of Hapsburg, Flanders, the Tyrol and Barcelona; Seigneur of Biscay and Molina! This is official. Doubters may turn to the almanach de Gotha, page 34, and read in verification.

The joy not only of the Royal Family but of the whole Spanish people may be conceived at the birth of this child, for this is the first son born to a reigning King in Spain in four generations.

With these numerous names and appendages it is not surprising to find Queen Victoria’s first born ushered into the world with considerable ceremony.

In olden days changeling children were sometimes foisted upon a nation, and in certain historical instances such imposed children have succeeded to thrones and held sway while the camarilla which perpetrated the trick have fattened and grown rich. To thwart these daring humbugs laws were enacted in many countries to the effect that the birth of a Royal child, especially an heir, must be in the presence of a certain number of responsible dignitaries of the Court. Spain still technically holds that the Prime Minister must be present, and according to tradition all of the ministers, grandees and foreign ambassadors and ministers present in the city shall be summoned to the Palace. The King then marches through the room into which these numerous privileged ones have been gathered bearing the Royal child on a silver salver.

The exuberant happiness of King Alfonso may be surmised from the report of all present on the memorable occasion that as the proud father passed through the chamber, his face transformed into one great smile, he could only say: “He weighs four kilos! He weighs four kilos!”

One week later the baby Prince was baptised in the chapel of the Royal Palace, the Bishop of Toledo, Primate of Spain, officiating. Be it said that his serene Highness was quite on his dignity on this his first public appearance. Only once did he jeopardise the quiet of the solemn occasion and that at the font when he made known his presence by one long, loud baby shriek—which afforded as much amusement to his father the King, as it did embarrassment to the most reverend Prelate.

This ceremony was in ample keeping with all the traditions of this most ceremonious of courts. Vienna and St. Petersburg alone of all the capitals of Europe are more punctilious than Madrid in the observance of traditional functions. For Madrid and the Spanish Court be it said, however, that these ceremonies are observed in an amiable and happy fashion which is possible only in a country where grace and charm and warmth of nature are characteristic of the temper and temperament of the people.

On this occasion the chapel in the Royal Palace in Madrid was occupied to its utmost capacity, chiefly by the grandees of Spain, visiting royalties, and the ambassadors and ministers of foreign countries.

The wonderful tapestries which are one of the proudest art possessions of Spain and which are only displayed on very special occasions were brought out to line the walls, while the Halberdier Guards who lined the aisles added colour to the setting. The ladies present all wore mantillas while the men were in full uniform or evening dress. The Christening procession was one of glittering and imposing magnificence.

First came the mace-bearers followed by the ushers in double file, then two long lines of Chamberlains in gold-laced coats and white silk stockings, after them the grandees of Spain in their striking military uniforms and feathered cocked hats. Then came seven specially picked grandees carrying seven salvers on which were such requisites for the holy ceremony as a salt-cellar, a gold basin and ewer, a cut lemon, a lace towel, a cape, and a large cake. Behind this party came the royal Prince himself, ensconced in rare and beautiful laces. His fair little uncovered head and tiny face, and his clenched fists were the admiration of all beholders. He was in the arms of the Marquesa de los Llanos, who is the chief of his retinue, and on one side walked the Papal Nuncio, who is the representative of His Holiness, the Pope, as godfather, and on the other was the Queen-mother, as the godmother. The King strode behind. The Infantes and Infantas followed, with their suites. The Infanta Maria Teresa, sister of the King, and her husband, Infante Fernando, being only convalescent from measles, were unable to be present. Don Carlos, the widowed husband of the King’s late sister, the Infanta Mercedes, led little Prince

THE PRINCE OF ASTURIAS.

Alfonso, who was known as the heir to the throne until the birth of his little cousin.

The little sister of the ex-heir was led by the hand by the Infanta Isabel, at whose side walked Princess Henry of Battenberg, beautifully robed in grey velvet and ermine. Prince Arthur of Connaught, with Captain Wyndham and the Princes from Russia and Germany, and other Royal representatives, all had their places in the procession. China was also represented. The personal staff of the King was conspicuous, and the halberdier band of music marshalled the glittering throng to the chapel.

The altar was decorated with white flowers. The historic font in which the members of the Royal Family have for centuries been baptised was in the centre of the chapel.

Thirty-six Bishops and four Cardinals officiated. The Royal child was carried in the arms of his grandmother, the Dowager Queen Maria Cristina. The water sprinkled on his brow was from the River Jordan. The christening ceremony over, the King decorated his infant son with the Order of the Golden Fleece, the Order of Isabella the Catholic, and the Collar of Charles III. All the ladies of the Court were in full dress.

The little Prince thrived as a baby, and he was a sturdy chap of almost three when I went to Spain to write this story. In Madrid, I found him already a feature of the capital. Each day, when it was nearing the time for him and his little brother and sister (who have since arrived) to go for their afternoon drive, a great crowd would collect before the Palace gates to catch a fleeting glimpse of him who will (D. V.) one day reign over them.

On his first birthday, the Prince of Asturias was formally enrolled as a member of one of the crack royal regiments in his father’s kingdom. The regimental register for that day describes the new recruit as “resident in the province of Madrid: age one year; and a bachelor!” It was the day before his third birthday that I first saw him. He had profited by his military connection during these two years, for he had learned to salute as properly as any soldier, to wear a uniform, and to play with soldier toys. Incidentally, he was still a bachelor.

This early martial association is a custom common to kings and princes. Not infrequently, heirs apparent are made honorary commanders of regiments before they reach the age of five, and all through boyhood a military uniform is the favourite costume of many of them. King Alfonso nearly always wore a military uniform during his childhood and youth—but Don Alfonso has never been other than a King. A nation was already his at birth, an army, a navy and more palaces than he could ever know what to do with.

From the day the Prince of Asturias became a member of his regiment, a bed was set aside and will always be reserved for him in the regimental barracks, and the regulation plate, mug and spoon of his equipment kept ready for his use. An incident of that memorable first birthday of the little Prince which must have bored the young man intensely was the reading to him of the penal laws in order that thereafter he might not be able to justify any infraction of discipline by maintaining his ignorance of these laws. The papers which he was obliged to sign were marked with an “X” signifying “The Prince of Asturias, his mark.”

One day, when I was in the Palace in Madrid, the little Prince was discovered in one of the chambers of the private apartments, playing with the sword of one of his father’s aides. My companion looked at the little fellow and the sword which was bigger than he, and said: “What does your Royal Highness propose to do with that sword?” The Prince paused in his play and after a moment’s hesitation replied: “Have no fear, no harm shall come to you!”

That afternoon, His Royal Highness (as he is addressed at Court) went riding. His horseback lessons began when he was a little more than two and one-half years old. If he does not prove the best horseman in his kingdom, as is his father to-day, it will not be for lack of early training.

The Crown Prince has one remarkable faculty which is already phenomenally developed, and which is bound to prove of enormous value to him in the future. That is an exceptional memory for faces—and names. He knows perfectly well every face about the palace, and certain members of the court whom he sees but seldom he remembers as readily as those he sees every day. For many of the intimates of the household he has his favourite nicknames, usually established by his Royal Highness when the proper names are too long or too difficult for his baby mouth. The Royal Governess is the Marquesa Maria de Salamanca. This is rather sonorous for the Prince so he always calls her “Mia-manca,” a natural contraction of the two names. This trait is one that was very pronounced in his father when he was a child. Many anecdotes are still current of the embarrassment the baby King Alfonso would frequently cause his nurses and governesses and even his mother, the Queen Regent Maria Cristina, by the curious and quaint names he would dub various courtiers and grandees who were frequently staid and dignified old gentlemen.

There is something unmistakably regal in the manner and bearing of the Prince of Asturias. He seems to have a full realisation of who he is, and of his own importance. This spirit is naturally fostered by his environment. Officers and soldiers everywhere salute him, while courtiers and populace uncover when he approaches. Being the recipient of universal obeisance almost from his cradle accustoms him to continual homage and he comes to expect it from everyone.

The coachman Corral who drives the big mules to the nursery coach is a prime favourite with the princes. One day, just as they were about to go for their afternoon drive the Prince of Asturias went to the King and asked for a cigar. The King was greatly surprised at the request, coming from the Prince who was then not much over two, but he gave the young man a cigar and watched with much curiosity what he would do with it. The cigar was carefully carried throughout the drive and on the return to the Palace the Prince handed it to the coachman. Since then he frequently brings a cigar with him for the coachman, but if for any reason he becomes displeased with the coachman over something during the drive he carries it back upstairs for another day when the coachman is better behaved!

The Prince of Asturias has his mother’s fondness for sweet chocolate, and Her Majesty keeps a supply always at hand to reward the princes for good behaviour, and every day after luncheon they each get a piece anyway.

The Queen was taken ill during the week that the King was in London attending the funeral of King Edward. The Prince of Asturias seemed considerably worried when he learned that his mother would not be down for luncheon. The Queen Mother, Maria Cristina, who lives in the Royal Palace, noticed the anxious look on the face of her grandson and inquired what was the trouble.

“I am thinking,” he replied, “that if mother is ill and father is in London—who will give us chocolate to-day after lunch?”

One afternoon the Prince of Asturias was naughty. In the Casa de Campo he had been very cross, and had been reprimanded. That night at supper-time when the dessert was placed before him he said: “To-day I was naughty. I do not deserve these sweets. Dessert is not for naughty children. But before I was naughty; now I am good. Now I deserve my sweets, so I shall take this dessert.”

This self-depreciation as well as appreciation is one of his characteristics. He is as quick to admit his own disapproval of himself, as he is to insist on approval at other times.

One day when His Majesty was going to a pigeon shoot just outside of Madrid he took the Prince of Asturias along in the automobile. The little Prince was greatly pleased at this and very proud. During the next several days he went about the Palace telling everybody how pleased he had been with the excursion.

Travelling also delights the little man. He has from his earliest months been interested in railroad trains and the journeys to Seville in the winter time, to La Granja in the spring, and to San Sebastian in the summer are great treats to the nursery.

When the Prince of Asturias was about a year old the Royal Family moved to La Granja. One afternoon the Queen was walking in the gardens with one of her ladies-in-waiting when it occurred to her that she would like to go outside of the Palace grounds for a stroll down one of the country lanes. So without any other escort than her one lady companion she started out. Presently they met an old peasant woman trudging toward them carrying a basket. As she came nearer she recognised the Queen and moved toward her. The lady-in-waiting, not understanding the motive of the peasant woman, quickly stepped in between her and the Queen, but the Queen at once said, “No—let her speak. She has something she wants to say to me.” The woman then told the Queen that in the basket she carried a litter of baby rabbits and they were so pretty and cunning that she thought the little Prince would like them—and would Her Majesty not send them to the Prince. The Queen peeped into the basket and was so delighted with the wee warm bunnies that she told the woman to bring them herself to the Prince, and to the astonishment of the lady-in-waiting and the unbounded joy of the peasant woman the Queen led the way back to the Palace and up to the nursery where the Prince duly received the bunnies and was highly pleased with them.

At another time, in Seville, a litter of rabbits was presented to the Prince of Asturias. This time the rabbits were bigger and lively. Someone left the cover off the basket and the rabbits all jumped out and ran off through the Palace, affording the Prince much amusement, but creating no end of trouble for the nurses who had to catch them.

CHAPTER XI
THE ROYAL NURSERY OF SPAIN

There is a striking contrast between the two princes. The Prince of Asturias is absolutely fair with flaxen hair, while Don Jaime is as dark as a typical Spaniard. Even at the age of two, his hair is dark and his eyes are as lustrously brown as his father’s.

All three of the children are learning to speak English, Spanish and French, with equal fluency. They have between them two English nursery governesses and one French maid in addition to a usual number of Spanish maids and other servants. Their mother, the Queen, was brought up familiar with French and German, in addition to her own English, while King Alfonso was taught English, French and German from his boyhood. It is expected that a modern king be able to talk and think in two or three languages, but it is exceptional to find a crown prince of three who can already express himself in three tongues.

When speaking to his mother, the Queen, the little Prince invariably uses English, but with his father, the King, he uses Spanish. He seems to know instinctively one tongue from the other. If he is handed something—for example, a box—he will take it and pronounce the word in English and Spanish and sometimes in French also. In that way he seems to instinctively teach himself the three languages simultaneously.

The two Princes are naturally constant playmates. In the Casa de Campo where they are taken every morning at half-past ten they play in the sand together and stand up their little toy soldiers. As I had the privilege of playing here with them one morning I shall have more to say of this later. The Crown Prince usually refers to his brother as “my brother, the Infante,” never as Don Jaime or Jaime, although occasionally he lapses into English and calls him “Jimmy.”

The Princes are very fond of each other, but like all children they have their quarrels now and again. The Crown Prince has a good deal of a will of his own and sometimes his nurses find him something more than a handful. One morning he rushed up to the Royal Governess and said: “My brother the Infante has been very naughty, very naughty, so I kicked him and he cried. But now he is no longer naughty so I shall run and kiss him,” whereupon he rushed off to the playroom in the châlet where he found Don Jaime and tenderly kissed him.

Don Jaime has one of the sweetest baby faces I have ever seen. He has inherited his father’s soft, beautiful eyes and winning smile. His nature is said to be as lovely as his smile. He is a great favourite in the Royal Household and already is manifesting unusual signs of keenness and intelligence.

Curiously enough, the newspapers of Europe including England, and also of America, have from time to time printed stories to the effect that these two Princes are deaf and dumb and otherwise defective. These rumours are all baseless slanders. The King’s secretary has been put to great trouble writing to inform people all over the world that there is no truth in these stories. On one occasion the Prime Minister found it necessary to issue a public signed statement to the effect that he had personally talked with the Princes and that he knew them to be mentally and physically fit and normal. As a matter of fact, I found them both unusually sturdy boys with exceptional intelligence for their years.

In this connection I had a striking experience of the way these stories are circulated. The second or third day after I arrived in Madrid the head porter at my hotel said to me: “So you are the American physician?”

“What American physician?” I asked in surprise.

“The doctor who has been brought from New York to attend the Crown Prince.”

“No,” I replied, “I am not a doctor. How did you come to think that I was?”

He thereupon explained that shortly after my arrival in Madrid the King’s private secretary had called for me at my hotel and that directly after I had been seen entering the Royal Palace. This aroused some curiosity among the hotel people and finally someone concluded that as I wore a Van-dyke beard I must be a physician, and as I had gone to the Palace I had undoubtedly gone to examine the Princes who were said to be deaf and dumb! This absurd tale circulated about the capital and as it went from mouth to mouth details were added, and that which at first was characterised as probable and circumstantial became absolutely definite.

It is really cruel to spread such nonsensical stories about two such bright boys as the Prince of Asturias and Don Jaime.

Both the Prince of Asturias and Don Jaime are devoted to horses and all the trappings of the stables. They are also very fond of cats. There is one big nursery cat which is an especial favourite. So far they have not taken much interest in dogs, and in fact there isn’t even one dog about the Royal Palace in Madrid. Formerly the King had many dogs, but now very few and these are kept in the country. The Queen had a dog which was presented to her by her uncle, the late King Edward of England, but one day at La Granja the dog strayed away—as the best of dogs sometimes will, even when their masters are sovereigns and their abode a royal palace.

The palace of the Alcazar in Seville is a favourite residence with the Princess just as it is with the Queen. The gardens of this old Moorish palace are very delightful and here the Royal children love to play just as their father did when he was a boy. Down one of the walks is a series of tiny holes. Ordinarily no one would even see them. It was a favourite prank of the little Don Alfonso to send some unsuspecting person along this walk while he loitered in the rear; suddenly he would turn a hidden wheel and instantly a fine stream of water would shoot up through each of these squirt holes, to the astonishment and oftentimes consternation of the victim of the Royal joke.

There is a maze of boxwood in these gardens which affords the children endless amusement. A stranger once entering this maze gets completely entangled and bewildered. It takes even an adult some time to discover the path leading out. Here, too, are several small ponds stocked with gold fish and every day the Princes visit the ponds to feed the fish.

The Prince of Asturias is especially fond of playing in sand, and on his third birthday the Queen bought for him a set of sand pails and little shovels which pleased him tremendously.