VIII. Ideal Interviews
I. WITH A EUROPEAN PRINCE
With any European Prince, travelling in America
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.
