On receiving our card the Prince, to our great surprise and pleasure,
sent down a most cordial message that he would be delighted to see us at
once. This thrilled us.
“Take us,” we said to the elevator boy, “to the apartments of the
Prince.” We were pleased to see him stagger and lean against his wheel
to get his breath back.
In a few moments we found ourselves crossing the threshold of the
Prince’s apartments. The Prince, who is a charming young man of from
twenty-six to twenty-seven, came across the floor to meet us with an
extended hand and a simple gesture of welcome. We have seldom seen
anyone come across the floor more simply.
The Prince, who is travelling incognito as the Count of Flim Flam, was
wearing, when we saw him, the plain morning dress of a gentleman of
leisure. We learned that a little earlier he had appeared at breakfast
in the costume of a Unitarian clergyman, under the incognito of the
Bishop of Bongee; while later on he appeared at lunch, as a delicate
compliment to our city, in the costume of a Columbia professor of
Yiddish.
The Prince greeted us with the greatest cordiality, seated himself,
without the slightest affectation, and motioned to us, with
indescribable bonhomie, his permission to remain standing.
“Well,” said the Prince, “what is it?”
We need hardly say that the Prince, who is a consummate master of ten
languages, speaks English quite as fluently as he does Chinese. Indeed,
for a moment, we could scarcely tell which he was talking.
“What are your impressions of the United States?” we asked as we took
out our notebook.
“I am afraid,” answered the Prince, with the delightful smile which is
characteristic of him, and which we noticed again and again during the
interview, “that I must scarcely tell you that.”
We realized immediately that we were in the presence not only of a
soldier but of one of the most consummate diplomats of the present day.
“May we ask then,” we resumed, correcting our obvious blunder, “what are
your impressions, Prince, of the Atlantic Ocean?”
“Ah,” said the Prince, with that peculiar thoughtfulness which is so
noticeable in him and which we observed not once but several times, “the
Atlantic!”
Volumes could not have expressed his thought better.
“Did you,” we asked, “see any ice during your passage across?”
“Ah,” said the Prince, “ice! Let me think.”
We did so.
“Ice,” repeated the Prince thoughtfully.
We realized that we were in the presence not only of a soldier, a
linguist and a diplomat, but of a trained scientist accustomed to exact
research.
“Ice!” repeated the Prince. “Did I see any ice? No.”
Nothing could have been more decisive, more final than the clear, simple
brevity of the Prince’s “No.” He had seen no ice. He knew he had seen
no ice. He said he had seen no ice. Nothing could have been more
straightforward, more direct. We felt assured from that moment that the
Prince had not seen any ice.
The exquisite good taste with which the Prince had answered our question
served to put us entirely at our ease, and we presently found ourselves
chatting with His Highness with the greatest freedom and without the
slightest _gene_ or _mauvaise honte_, or, in fact, _malvoisie_ of any
kind.
We realized, indeed, that we were in the presence not only of a trained
soldier, a linguist and a diplomat, but also of a conversationalist of
the highest order.
His Highness, who has an exquisite sense of humour--indeed, it broke
out again and again during our talk with him--expressed himself as both
amused and perplexed over our American money.
“It is very difficult,” he said, “with us it is so simple; six and a
half groner are equal to one and a third gross-groner or the quarter
part of our Rigsdaler. Here it is so complicated.”
We ventured to show the Prince a fifty-cent piece and to explain its
value by putting two quarters beside it.
“I see,” said the Prince, whose mathematical ability is quite
exceptional, “two twenty-five-cent pieces are equal to one fifty-cent
piece. I must try to remember that. Meantime,” he added, with a gesture
of royal condescension, putting the money in his pocket, “I will keep
your coins as instructors”--we murmured our thanks--“and now explain to
me, please, your five-dollar gold piece and your ten-dollar eagle.”
We felt it proper, however, to shift the subject, and asked the Prince a
few questions in regard to his views on American politics. We soon found
that His Highness, although this is his first visit to this continent,
is a keen student of our institutions and our political life. Indeed,
His Altitude showed by his answers to our questions that he is as well
informed about our politics as we are ourselves. On being asked what he
viewed as the uppermost tendency in our political life of to-day, the
Prince replied thoughtfully that he didn’t know. To our inquiry as to
whether in his opinion democracy was moving forward or backward, the
Prince, after a moment of reflection, answered that he had no idea. On
our asking which of the generals of our Civil War was regarded in Europe
as the greatest strategist, His Highness answered without hesitation,
“George Washington.”
Before closing our interview the Prince, who, like his illustrious
father, is an enthusiastic sportsman, completely turned the tables on us
by inquiring eagerly about the prospects for large game in America.
We told him something--as much as we could recollect--of woodchuck
hunting in our own section of the country. The Prince was interested at
once. His eye lighted up, and the peculiar air of fatigue, or languor,
which we had thought to remark on his face during our interview, passed
entirely off his features. He asked us a number of questions, quickly
and without pausing, with the air, in fact, of a man accustomed to
command and not to listen. How was the woodchuck hunted? From horseback
or from an elephant? Or from an armoured car, or turret? How many
beaters did one use to beat up the woodchuck? What bearers was it
necessary to carry with one? How great a danger must one face of having
one’s beaters killed? What percentage of risk must one be prepared to
incur of accidentally shooting one’s own beaters? What did a bearer
cost? and so on.
All these questions we answered as best we could, the Prince apparently
seizing the gist, or essential part of our answer, before we had said
it.
In concluding the discussion we ventured to ask His Highness for his
autograph. The Prince, who has perhaps a more exquisite sense of humour
than any other sovereign of Europe, declared with a laugh that he had no
pen. Still roaring over this inimitable drollery, we begged the Prince
to honour us by using our own fountain-pen.
“Is there any ink in it?” asked the Prince--which threw us into a
renewed paroxysm of laughter.
The Prince took the pen and very kindly autographed for us seven
photographs of himself. He offered us more, but we felt that seven was
about all we could use. We were still suffocated with laughter over the
Prince’s wit; His Highness was still signing photographs when an equerry
appeared and whispered in the Prince’s ear. His Highness, with the
consummate tact to be learned only at a court, turned quietly without a
word and left the room.
We never, in all our experience, remember seeing a prince--or a mere man
for the matter of that--leave a room with greater suavity, discretion,
or aplomb. It was a revelation of breeding, of race, of long slavery to
caste. And yet, with it all, it seemed to have a touch of finality about
it--a hint that the entire proceeding was deliberate, planned, not to be
altered by circumstance. He did not come back.
We understand that he appeared later in the morning at a civic reception
in the costume of an Alpine Jaeger, and attended the matinee in the
dress of a lieutenant of police.
Meantime he has our pen. If he turns up in any costume that we can spot
at sight, we shall ask him for it.