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.
