RECOLLECTIONS OF PRINCESS

Greymouth Evening Star, 30 June 1933, Page 9

RECOLLECTIONS OF PRINCESS

EX-KAISEK AND THE POPE. A princess, once renowned for iher bcatuy, tramping across Europe dressed in rags, recalls one of Hans Anders sen’s more unhappy fairy tales (says 'John o’ London’s Weekly’). But it happened in real life, so we are told’ in “There’s Rosemary,” by the Princess Montcsquiou Montluc Siena, who is described as a princess of the French Royal house and a cousin of Marie de Chartres d’Orleans, who married Queen Alexandra’s brother. Another cousin, she says, was Elvira de Rcurbo'n, daughter of Don Carlos, the Spanish Pretender —"admittedly the loveliest princess in all Europe.” It

was intended that she should marry the Crown Prince of Italy, but instead she eloped with a penniless young American artist who had been restoring some of the art treasures at her lather’s palace. Next morning Don Carlos called his court Together and said: ’“My daughter the Princess Elvira de Bourbon, has died this night.” One evening, some years later. Princess Montesqujou tolls us, a servant announced that a poor ragged woman had come to the servants’ /entrance asking for her. She was shown in: “She camo towards me with pitiful hesitation, still keeping her face in ehadow. Suddenly she burst into a violent storm of sobbing, and cried out in awful, tragic tones: “Oh, Famy, don’t you know me!” It was my cousin, Piincess Elvira, de Bourbon. . .

She was dressed in dreadful beggar’s rags, her once lovely hair waj> fastened anyhow in an untidy knot, the white fingers which kings had been proud to kiss were stained and with ragged, blackened nails, the haughty eyes were tuitive and wolfish now, and the royal hand which had once carried with it a dowry of over a million now' clutched a bit of cracked black oilcloth in which she carried all her poor worldly possessions’. With pitiful sobs she tela me her story.” What the story was is not disclosed, but the princess says that she and other relatives provided a refuge in Switzerland for the ill-fated Elvira, although it seems that she died in a “charity hospital in Faris.” The princess appears to have an impressive knowledge of all the European royalties of her time. Of the exKaiser she says: ‘‘A less warlike and more kindly ruler I hav«» never met.” But this does not prevent her from quoting a piquant story about an audience he had with the Pope. The Kaiserin, on his bidding, had prepared’ an elaborate costume of white satin, but on the day before the visit was told that in accordance with the rule she must wear black. This annoyed the Kaiser to begin with; then, when the royal pair finally arrived, ‘‘after exchanging a few conventional phrases, the Kaiser rose with the intention of making the usual present—it was a golden snuff-box. . ■'. Instead, however, of putting it on the golden tray held up by the Papal Chamberlain, the Kaiser wished to proffer it himself, and when he produced it the exquisite little box was ivrappcd in a bit of newspaper—actually in a bit of newspaper! Prince Massimo, Lord of the Holy Doorstep, was present, and told me later of the sensation that was caused. The horrified Chamberlain jumped in front of the Kaiser, snatched at the sndj’f-box, and after a short struggle succeeded in dragging it from the royal hand, while the Pope sat silently on his high throne. The box was then, put on the golden tray and presented kneeling to Mis Holiness; wbilo the Kaiser, who was left foolishly gripping the historic bit of newspaper, ciudicd it furiously into a ball and hurled it down on the floor!” After the leave-taking, which must have been a little strained, the Kaiser, we are told', refused to take the route which was lined by the Swiss Guard, and insisted on going down a corridor which lay straight before him. He and his suite passed through interminable galleries and passages until they reached the Brona Portal. Here they were told that the gates could be opened only for the Pope: — ‘‘The Kaiser was now thoroughly roused and ordered that the great gates must be opened; but it was told' him that Prince Massimo, who kept the keys, was at service and could not bo disturbed, and, moreover, that the Popo would never grant such a privilege, even to the greatest sovereign on earth. The party stood there in embarrassment and indecision, looking through the wonderfully wrought ironwork at the imperial coaches with their interested grooms in the courtyard. till the Kaiser finally accepted the inevitable and decided to go back the way he had come. The return journey took over a quarter of an hour, and was completed in dead silence.*

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. Royal drawing rooms in Queen Victoria’s day were formidable affairs. No refreshments were offered, says the princess, and' standing in the outer anti-chambers, with a heavy train over one arm and bearing the cumbersome bouquet that custom. prescribed, many an elderly lady fainted ami had to be carried down to her coach, to awake to cruel disappointment. .... The Princess says that she once went with the Marchioness of Ailesl uiy. a famous wit. of her time, to a London store, whose owner hurried forward to meet them. lie began with an important cough: "I saw your ladyship at the opera last night. I trust that your ladyship enjoyed the performance?” A pair of very longhandled tortoise-shell lorgnettes was raised with dreadful slowness, and the person was inspected carefully. “My good man,” said the Marchioness at last, “we came to buy a carpet from you.” The good man took the rebuff in silence, and began to display his carpets’ At another large store, one of the young woman assistants, “whose voice, whether naturally or deliberately 1 do act know, was regrettably haughty and distant, came up to the Marchioness one morning, and inquired coldly: ‘Are any of the Gentlemen waiting on you?’ ‘Yes’ came the prompt answer, ‘the, Nobleman witli the bald head is attendong to me, my good girl.’ That story had been quoted elsewhere. I believe, out of its true context; I was present at its origin.” King Edward’s elder son, the Duke of Clarence, is mentioned frequently :li these pages, and. is referred to by the Pi inccss as “my dear friend” and ‘my childhood friend and companion.” She describes how at a ball in Rome she saw, coming through a floor a figure she thought to be the Duke oi Clarence: “A second later. I saw that it was not he, but a. young Alpini lieutenant who bore a most striking r<'-s-mblauce Io him, though 1 could see ijo'A tha l lie was taller ano more I f wcrfplly built. As if by telepathy, the joung man looked up. and his eyes in.et, mine. They were just. like the .Prince’s—deep hjyp magnetic, kind—-

and it seemed to me as I looked fascinatedly into them that I had known them all my lite. Then, before I had spoken to him or even knew his name, I knew that this, not the future heir to the English throne, was the man for whom my soul had been always seeking. The other was a. deep, sympathetic friendship on my side, a comradeship such as 1 have experienced in my life tor perhaps only one other person, my cousin., Marie de Chartres. But this. . . .” It seems (0 have been a case of love at Hist sight. They were married at Brighton. No wonder he fell in love with her, for we are told the Archduke Rudolf cf Austria once whispered to her “that, as he danced with me, he had felt as if he soarecijto lj.eavcu with an angel in his arms," . . . During childhood visits to Denmark she says that she often met Dans All- - "a thin, rather wild-looking gentleman with big, kindly eyes.” On cm* occasion, we are told, “he sat down and lifted me on to bis knee. ’.'There was once a little goldenbaiicu ptimess. just like you, and I’m g; ing to tell you a story about, her,” he began, as all the other children ( lustered! iou.nd us. And he started telling us the story of the Princess and the Pea. whije we listened enthralled. When he had finished, our hostess tinned to him. “You should include that in one of your beautiful volumes cl fairy tales.” she said. “But—do you think it would be good enrugh—l only just made it up as 1 went along," he replied. Ami that was the origin of that famous story, made up specially for me. Princess miou Mouthnc Siena, who was bom in Louisiana, is vague about her ancestry, apart from saying that they wore “saints and heroes and princes back to the very dawn of Christianity,” and that she is “an old lady and the last living representative of all my ancient, and glorious line.” But. she seems to have a remarkably good memory lor what is piquant and a nursing.