i thanked his majesty warmly for this unusual courtesy, and the second morning after se?or de torres called for me at my hotel just before ten o’clock and we drove together to the reserve in the casa de campo. the marquesa de salamanca, who is the first royal governess, passed us in an automobile near the entrance. the marquesa de puerta, who is the second governess, was not there that morning. we arrived a brief moment behind the nursery. the princes and their nursemaids were still in the mule coach driven by corral, the favourite nursery coachman. behind was the little open carriage drawn by the two donkeys “sol” and “luna,” and the tiny shetland pony, “belaye,” of the crown prince.
as we approached, the marquesa de salamanca lifted the prince of asturias from the carriage and brought him in her arms toward us, presenting him as the little crown prince. anticipating her, however, the little fellow cried out: “kaulak—kaulak, is coming.” now, kaulak is a madrid photographer who takes most of the photographs of the royal family and the prince had noticed the cameras in my hand. the marquesa told him, as{97} she put him down at our feet, that i was not kaulak, though i had cameras and could take his picture. he surveyed me critically for a moment and then came and posed himself before me with his little right hand at salute, asking that i first take him that way. he wore the same broad-brimmed white straw hat encircled by a pale blue ribbon and the cunning little white flannel suit in which i had first seen him going out to drive. he tried valiantly to wrestle with my name but this proved too much of a mouthful.
the two english governesses and the french maid gathered the children’s toys from the coach and we started for a stream of water where the children wanted to play. as we started the infante don jaime was brought over. he is a dear boy with a wonderfully sweet and friendly smile. it was evident from the first moment that he, at least, had no intention of standing on ceremony. the wee infanta beatrice was too sleepy to pay much attention, so she was put to rest in an ordinary baby carriage and was soon trundled fast asleep.
the prince of asturias first took up the sand pail and shovel that had recently been given him by his mother the queen for his third birthday. don jaime, however, found more interest in the water. he splashed the stream for a few minutes then toddled off to a spring and began tossing stones into the water, laughing with delight at each splash. when he had used all of his stones he asked me to recover them. this was a task, but{98} i rolled up my sleeves, and getting down on my knees i began to pick them from the bottom one by one and arrange them around the spring wall. just as i finished the prince of asturias ran up and seizing the largest stone of all splashed it violently back into the water, wetting me from head to foot. this gave them both great pleasure and they laughed tremendously. “see,” exclaimed the infante, “i have given you a bath!”
the next moment the prince decided that my dress was incomplete, as i had no flower in my buttonhole. he asked me if i wouldn’t like him to get me a nice flower. i told his royal highness that i should be very pleased. so away he went to the flower beds. he was critical in his selection. a number of flowers were successively rejected. finally he plucked a beautiful white rose and bringing it back placed it (with a little assistance) in my buttonhole. don jaime, in the meantime watched his brother with evident interest and decided that it was his turn to do something toward entertaining me. so he went off to the strawberry bed and picked some luscious ripe berries to feed me.
the morning was unusually dark and gloomy for madrid in june, and i am very much of an amateur at photography, consequently dependent upon bright light. about eleven o’clock the clouds lightened somewhat and i got out my cameras. instantly both princes were interested. the prince of asturias particularly seemed to enjoy{99} having his picture taken. i snapped him repeatedly and found that he never seemed to weary of posing for me.
the infanta beatrice had now waked up, so she joined us. corral, ever attentive and watchful, took great delight in catching the eye of the small princess so that her face should be turned toward the camera. she showed a silent interest in the performance, but her little eyes were still heavy with sleep and it was evident that she would much have preferred to remain in her perambulator. she grew alert, however, when the donkey carriage was brought round. she enjoys her rides about the gardens, sitting by the side of her brother don jaime.
don jaime climbed into the carriage by himself and picked up the whip. the infanta thought that she should hold this and straightway reached out her hand to grasp it. the two wrestled back and forth until between them they dropped it onto the ground. then there was storm and tears.
when i looked round the prince was proudly seated on belaye. belaye is one of the smallest of shetland ponies, and his saddle precisely like a toy. it is not quite a real saddle for it has a seat and straps to secure the little rider. but these are the first lessons of the prince in riding. by the time he is six he will doubtless mount a real saddle and ride just like a little man.
besides his shetland pony he has two little donkeys, so tiny that any man could carry one under{100} each arm. these are harnessed to a little cart and the young prince takes his first lessons in driving in the beautiful and extensive park behind the royal palace, known as the casa de campo. formerly he had a third donkey called “astra,” but astra died. sometime after this distressing event the prince was asked about astra by someone in the palace, and he made answer with a certain manner of mystery, “oh! he is gone away. he is in the casa de campo eating strawberries.”
in amusing contrast to these dwarf donkeys are four sturdy mules which are attached to the big nursery coach in which ride not only the prince of asturias but also his brother don jaime, his sister infanta beatrice and two of their nurses. beside the carriage, ride two splendidly mounted equerries and behind, two royal grooms. on the whole, it is an imposing cavalcade, this nursery out a-airing.
the two princes—aged three and two respectively—sit on the main seat. a brace for their feet has been adjusted to the carriage and two leather belts keep them securely in place. one day i was going into the palace just as the nursery was about to start out. the little prince and the infante were in their seats and the baby infanta was just being brought downstairs. as i passed the carriage, i raised my hat to the wee boys, both of whom were dressed in white with broad-brimmed straw hats. instantly, two little hands were raised to their right temples, elbows out, eyes front—all{101} with military precision. no soldier could have given a truer salute. it was so charming, so unexpected, that i laughed outright. on later days when i saw them out driving, i noticed that each time they passed a flag they saluted it, and each time an officer or soldier saluted them, the salute was returned.
the morning wore on till noon time when don jaime grew overpoweringly sleepy, and the prince grew anxious for his morning story—preliminary to his noon nap. we drove and rode and picked more flowers and threw more stones into the water and made more sand piles—and we were all very happy. i found them wholesome, hearty children, normal in all respects, bright beyond their years, and well developed. how the baseless stories concerning their supposed infirmities and defectiveness ever started, is a mystery to me, unless political enemies of the monarchial parties set them in circulation with malice aforethought.
after my morning with them in the casa de campo some people at my hotel said to me: “what a pity that the princes are not right in their faculties!”
“but they are perfectly right,” i replied, indulgently, “those stories are pure nonsense.”
“oh! no, sir. you must be mistaken.”
“how can i be mistaken?” i answered, “i have just spent a morning with them and i found them not only normal in every way, but particularly intelligent.{102}”
“that cannot be,” was the reply, “because it is said that they are defective.”
i began to grow indignant and finally i gave up the controversy. after i had gone they asked one another, as i later learned, how much the king had paid me to say that the princes were all right! what is one to do with such people? and this is characteristic of what is met often in madrid.
the prince of asturias is to-day one of the loveliest of children. presently he must submit to the discipline which will make of him a strong, fearless man fit to lead and rule a nation. if he lives he will succeed to the throne of spain as king alfonso xiv.
there is no better wish that i may express for my readers than that when they come to this beautiful summer land of spain, they may have something of the same privileges i have enjoyed; that they may meet this manly, courageous, wise king, alfonso xiii—face to face, clasp his hand in hearty grasp and sit with him in his study by the hour listening to his clear-cut, incisive conversation, enjoying his ideas and ideals, all expressed in most excellent english; or go with him to the beautiful polo ground and watch him play the fastest sort of game, riding his beautiful ponies brought over from the argentine republic; that they may meet the beautiful queen victoria eugenie, the english princess, who is the true heroine of this romance and perhaps hear from her own lips the story of{103} the beautiful prophesy of her father, now long dead, that one day she should come to spain and be very, very happy. perchance, indeed, some favoured ones may be shown the spanish fan he sent her from seville and which is to-day her most treasured possession. above all, i would wish that all might spend a morning such as i spent in the casa de campo with the little princes, playing in the sand, splashing water and eating strawberries plucked by these dear, little, royal hands and carry away a pure white rose, selected and plucked by him who will one day, god willing, be king alfonso xiv of spain.
