ALFONSO XIII

May 17, 1886, the day on which Spain hailed the birth of their baby Sovereign, Alfonso XIII., is always kept as a fête-day in Spain. Shortly after Señor Sagasta had proclaimed the news to the assembly of Ministers and grandees of the realm, the Duchess of Medina de las Torres appeared in the antechamber, bearing in her arms a basket that contained the royal infant. Wrapped in cotton-wool, the infant King received the homage of his Ministers.

Five days later Madrid was en fête for the baptism of the royal child. Wearing a robe of the richest English lace, and the broad velvet sash, embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, that his father had worn at his baptism, the royal infant was borne on a silver salver, draped with costly coverings, through the lines of officers, statesmen, and Court ladies, into the chapel of the palace, where at a solemn service he received the names of Alfonso León Fernando Maria Santiago Isidro Pascual Antony.

The second birthday of the baby King was celebrated by a review in the Prado. The Queen was on horseback, dressed in black, without any ornaments. The Minister of War was on her left hand, and the Duchess of Medina behind her. Her horse was startled by the quantity of flowers thrown before the royal rider, but, being an excellent horsewoman, the Queen controlled the animal, and no mischance happened.

Aided by the Duchess of Medina de las Torres, the Señora Tacon, and an excellent nurse, Queen Cristina devoted herself entirely to the care of her child. His rooms were in close proximity to her own private apartments, and “Puby” (a German pet-name), as she called him, learned from an infant to look for the loving good-night visit of his mother, who, seating herself at the head of the blue silk curtained cot, would hush her boy to sleep. Her soothing caresses grew, as time passed on, to be tender counsel to the child.

Unwilling to sacrifice his physical health to his mental progress, the Queen waited till her son was seven years old before planning for him a course of serious study. With an hour’s steady instruction daily, the young monarch soon learnt to read and write with ease. It is interesting to know that he was never allowed to use a word without being thoroughly acquainted with its meaning. By this means he acquired an intelligent interest in things about him.

It was at the seaside resort of San Sebastian, in the beautiful palace of Miramar, that the royal child’s second course of instruction commenced. Don Regino Zaragoza was his tutor for geography and history. About this time also he began rapidly to gain ground in French and Latin. But the quick intelligence of the lad did not impair the mischievousness natural to his age. I was told by the King’s Chamberlain that once, when he was about eight years old, streams of water were seen running down the corridor from the bath-room of the royal palace. The door of the apartment was found to be locked, and it was only when the Queen herself insisted on its being opened that the young delinquent was discovered enjoying what he called “a naval battle in high seas,” the ships being logs abstracted from the wood baskets, and the high seas the overflowing bath.

The same courtier told me that once, when staying at the Casa de Campo (the country place near Madrid), the boy escaped from his governors to climb up on to the roof of a building, which he had remarked as the resort of some roosters.

It must be remembered that the young King’s courses of instruction were always those of the Universities and institutes of the kingdom. He usually wore the uniform of a cadet of the Military Academy, except when, on a visit to a man-of-war, he adopted the naval dress. That his tutors found him a docile pupil can be gathered from the following anecdote: When one day a professor stood waiting for his royal pupil to be seated, he laughingly shook his head, saying: “No; you are the master, and I am the pupil. It is for you to be seated first.”

Queen Cristina overcame her son’s difficulty with German by composing a small grammar for him, which enabled him to master the rules of the language in a simple and amusing form. His inquiring turn of mind and his desire to thoroughly understand many subjects were early made apparent by his leaning towards natural science, chemistry, etc.

The King’s love for all that is military dates from his earliest childhood, when his great delight was to watch the change of the royal palace Guard from his nursery window. His boy regiment is now almost historical. Many of its members still talk of their delight at its promotion to the dignity of a Mauser gun of a most professional calibre. Their young Captain’s power of resource and command was evidenced in the way he carried the day in a wager made with his child soldiers that they should not on the morrow meet the admiring eyes of their parents at that part of the royal palace where the Foreign Office then had its bureaux. The following day the young battalion approached the palace. The little subalterns, about to glance at the windows, thought they had won the bet, when lo! in clear sharp young tones there rang out the command: “Vista à la derecha!” (Look to the right!). Not an eye was turned towards the palace windows, and the royal commander scored.

Early rising has, of course, been always an essential part of the young King’s programme, or he would not have time for such pursuits as photography (developing his own plates, and in this he excels), swimming, bicycling, music, painting, etc., as well as his graver studies.

During his minority Alfonso XIII. rose at 7 o’clock, and, after a cold bath and some exercise in the gymnasium near his bedroom, he had a light breakfast with his mother and sisters. From 9 to 10 o’clock came a lesson in French from Don Luis Alberto Gayan, or in English from Don Alfonso Merry de Val. At 10 o’clock he went for a ride on horseback until 12 o’clock, when he lunched with the Queen and the Infanta. Then, after a lesson in German or music from Señorita Paula Czerny, or in painting from Don José Pulgar, the King again walked or rode, generally in the company of his mother. At 2 o’clock he had military instruction, and between 3 and 4 o’clock a lesson in universal history, or in fencing with other boys, under Don Pedro Carbonell. From 5.30 to 6.30 came a lesson in political law and administration, and once a week a lesson in general Spanish literature and classics. Dinner was at 7.30, and the remainder of the evening would be passed pleasantly in conversation or in playing duets with his sister Maria Teresa until it was time to retire to rest.

This programme was punctually adhered to, under the direction of Don Aguirre de Lejada, the director of His Majesty’s studies, and excepting when the King went to church on a Saturday afternoon at 5 o’clock with his mother and sister, it was rarely relaxed.

It was the royal youth’s natural simplicity, combined with his splendid education, that saved him from embarrassing self-consciousness on the great occasion, when on May 17, 1906, he took the Constitutional oath (the Jura), which gave him the full rights of a King, in the Houses of Parliament (Palacio del Congreso), before the brilliant assembly of Princes, Ambassadors, and Ministers assembled for the occasion. The words were simple, but impressive:

“I swear before God upon the Holy Gospels to maintain the Constitution and the laws. If I do so, God will reward me, and if not, He will require it of me.”

All present were touched at the young monarch’s evident disinclination to take precedence of his mother when leaving the Palacio del Congreso. But the law of etiquette had to be observed: the Regency was over, the reign had commenced; the Queen’s power had ceased, the King’s sway had commenced, and, as the first person in the realm, he had to precede his mother.

But that very day the King issued a decree to the nation by which the royal mother retained all the privileges of the position she had held as Regent, which permits no one but the possible future wife of the King to take precedence of her. This, the first royal proclamation, shows the devotion of the son to the mother, for as Queen Cristina is out of the line of possible inheritance to the crown, she would otherwise have taken lower rank than her sisters-in-law or her daughters.

As the young Sovereign, after the solemn ceremony in the cathedral, took his place under the white satin canopy, and passed down the aisle, filled with the highest representatives of Church and State, the sun, streaming in Spanish intensity through the heavily carved oaken door of the cathedral, fell upon his face. He looked like some youthful knight of olden days. With his dark head held high and a look of resolution on his features that seemed to bode well for his office, he passed out of the cathedral into the sunshine and air, thrilling with the applause of his people.

The close association of the King of Spain with the Ministry gives play to intrigues at the palace, which cause dissatisfaction in the country, and the King alone has the responsibility for the result.

It was towards the end of 1906 when General Lopez Dominguez, the fifth Prime Minister in less than a year, was the object of a palace intrigue which brought his work to an end, and excited much discontent in the country. The Cabinet had given a vote of confidence in the General, and the officer subsequently reported the matter to the King.

But in the meanwhile the partisans of Moret had been intriguing at the palace, and the Prime Minister’s assertion of the confidence shown him was met by a sceptical look from Alfonso, as he drew from his pocket a private letter from Moret, in which he threw doubt on the satisfactory state of Parliamentary affairs. The General, who had grown grey in the service of the King, stared blankly at the treacherous letter.

“Then Your Majesty has not complete confidence in me?” he asked, in astonishment.

The King did not reply, so the Prime Minister took the only possible course in the matter, and promptly offered his resignation.

Thus, Moret had plotted for his return to power, and, indeed, he was asked by the King to take the helm of affairs. This he did; but he was not prepared for the indignation of the Congress at the turn of affairs, and when he went to the Congress to make his opening speech, he was met by such storms of disapproval and with such silent contempt that he abandoned his post in three days.

When Maura permitted me to address him some questions on his policy, I asked if he did not think a pure suffrage would be for the progress of the nation.

“Yes,” he replied; “but the intervention of the Government is only to supplement the inertia of the nation.”

But the Prime Minister did not seem to take into account the despair of the people at the uselessness of their efforts. Sometimes there is a call to arms against this want of activity, but to such appeals the Spaniard shrugs his shoulders.

“What is the use of my going to the poll, when I know perfectly well that my vote will be either destroyed or burnt?”

“It is, then, the duty of the Government,” writes a pioneer in the Press, “to take great precautions for the protection of the polls, and even if necessary to guard them with a military force; for it is in the verity of the elections of these representatives in Parliament that lies the secret of the recovery of the virility of Spain.”

Catalonia, as we know, has recovered this virility by insisting on the return of her own deputies, and the enormous enthusiastic meeting held in a great hall of Barcelona on June 29, 1908, to hear the deputies’ opinions on a great matter of legislation shows how deep is the public interest in matters of politics, and how much the constituents appreciate their hardly-won privilege of being represented in the Congress by men they trust.