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.