New Britain Herald Newspaper, February 4, 1919, Page 5

WILL THE PRINCE OF WALES CO By H. C. Norris S 1T possible that an American g may be the next Queen of England? The idea of an American bride for the young Prince of Wales has been sug- gested by two London newspapers— not by mind but by English which four years ago would have met with @ howl of deri with widespread appr itseif. That's how safe the world has been made for democracy. “It’s impossible,” is the first com ment made on this suggested alliance by those whose skepticism has not been changed by the war. RBut even the hardest shelled of skeptics will re- member that these last four or five years have been a period of impos- sibiljities come true In July, 1914, people were suggesting a daughter of the Russian Czar as wife for the son of the English King. They were even saggesting the daughter of tiie Kaiser, % yeung lady whom-te his credit be it said--the Prince of Wales did not fancy in the least. Who could have foretold the disasters that would over- take the Romanoffs, or the dishonor that overtoek the Hohenzollerns? There is no Russian royal house to- day. And an English prince now would as lief pet a viper as marry a German princess. These are little things for a skeptic to recall. Perhaps no country in the world has been mere changed by the war than England. Old ideas are thorough- ly out of date. ‘his is one reason why » ‘roval marriage with an American American papers, you, And the suggestion, ion, meets today val in England THE PRINCE OF WALES ean be broached unsmilingly. And another reason is that the war has rearranged the royal matrimonial checkerboard in such a way as to make an eligible and acceptable princess as rare as a kind word for the kal Yolanda of Italy has been mentiored, and so has Princess Eliza- beth of Rumania. They have men- tioned all the eligibles lately because the Prince of Wales is now an up- standing young man of twenty-four years, a real veteran of many a dangerous episode under shell-five, and the most desirable “cateh” in Europe. The diplomats wauld have him marry soon. But Yolanda is a Catholic. Eng- lish law forbids the marriage of an heir to the threne with a Catholio princess, even though she be willing to change her faith. And Elizabeth of Rumania, though a beauty and half English, is a princess of Hohenzollern blood. About the only eligible royalty whe remains is Princess Maud of Fife, e rosy and radiant English girl, win- some as an apple blossom. But she is firet cousin to the Prince—daughter ot tLeé King’'s own eister. Church, eugénios and public opinien make this match unpopular. There aro plenty of American girls who in beauty, social dignity, sentle breeding and regal poise yield nothing to any Queen that ever held a scepter. Fnzland desires more than ever be- ture to be on the best of terms with Americe. And-—the Prince of Wales D e —— is even now planning a visit to the United States. He is a clear-eyed, likable voung man, this Prince to whom the London papers are suggesting an American bride. In August, 1914, he was a boy; a little too shy, a little too uncertain of himself, a little lacking in the gift of making friends. Four years of war have made a man of hijm. a ruddy-cheeked, squareshouldered man whose chin has a habit of looking determined. During the long days in France learned to be a “gooi mixer,” the Tommies admired him. For any one who knows how sparing Tommy Atkina is of his ad- miration, and unerring, this fact is worth more as an index to character than a D. 8. O. or the Croix de Guerre. Two things will recommend the Prince to the American girl, or to any other girl. He is not seeking a fortune by marriage, for his own private fortune is up among the millions. And he is not a seeker of safe jobs during a war. He was the first officer to volunteer for service—a few minutes after midnight on August 4, 1914, he offered himself to Kitch. ener. They gave him a “cushy” job at first. They kept him in a training camp, where he gained a reputation as a long-distance mareher. .Prelly soon, after a few weeks at this sort of thing, he appeared sud- 3 ver,” he told Kitchener; “I must go.” They pointed out to him the joy with which Ger- many would rock if the heir to the British crown were made prisoner They pointed out what a big agvan. tage such capture would give Ger many when the peace settlements ar rived. But they might as well have tossed their arguments against a stone wall. He outfaced the War Office. He outfaced his father, And at last they put him on Marshal French’s stafy, very he and Bravery Without any der Fire flourish, indeed, with an almost secret air, he crossed the Channel. But here a new difficulty presented itself. They wouldn't let him get near the firing line. They kept him at headquarters, or gent him on silly errands far to the rear. One night, during the retreat from Mons, he was at mess with some of the other officers, for he had become a second licutenant. The fleld telephone rang, md rang again. At each summons a young officer left “for duty at the front.” The Prince stood it as long as he could, and then with tears in his eves, sprang to the telephone, cry- ing: “It isn't fair! It isn't fair! They must let me go!" So that was when, reluctantly, they made him a dispatch rider. Except that he drove his own car, for he is an expert motorjst and can even mend his own punctures, the Prince was like any other dispatch bearer who careened through areas where shells frequently fell. His uniform, undis- tinguished from the rest, except by a star on the sleeve, was of ordinary khaki. No royal etiquette marked him out as different. And when once in his dark brown car, with the throttle open, he did not try to pick the safe spets along any road. One day, while on observation duty, he got out of the car for a few minutes to examine a trench site. When he returned he found that a shell had demolished the car and killed the officer whom he had left to guard it. That's how far away this Prinee kept from the danger zone. During his naval training at Os- borne and again when he was an un- dergraduate at Oxford, the Prince showed those democratic tendencies which have since hecoma so strongly marked. His diffidence kept him from being hail-fellow-well-met, but they called him “Sardines” at Osborne anc “Pragger Wagger,” or just plain “Wales"—with a rousing thump on ths back—at Oxford. 8o it is not surpris- ing to find that in the trenches they called him '“Wales” also. or “P. W.” S5 5SS Viscouness Matusione Margueritta Drexel the former By a man's nickpames ye shall know him. The English don’t nickname so affectionately the men whom they do not respect. Two other little things happened which prove that England is going to have a manly king when Wales mounts the throne. He got into the habit of picking up soldiers as he flew down French roads in his car, giving them a lift so democratically that many of them never recognized the slim, fair-headed young officer’ who handled the wheel like an expert. Upon a certain day a Tommie, picked up as he trudged forlornly through a bat- tered village, began to talk about his sweetheart. “Here's her picture,” he said, pro- ducing it. The Prince duly admired the photo- graph. “Maybe you have a picture of your own girl?” the soldier ventured. “Not yet,” said the Prince with a little smile. The soldier gave him a commiser- ating look. “Don’t you carry any pictures of any of your people?”’ he asked. “There's a picture of my father,” the Prince answered, and dropped into the man’s astonished palm a golden sovereign, on which were stamped the features of George V. The other little thing happened while the Prince was stil] at an offi cers’ training camp, where he rose at 5, snapped on his accouterments, and started out for a long day of drill. At the end of a twenty-mile march in full equipment, a march com- pleted in eight hours, during which the young man “swore good and hard,” ne sailed overhead. Wales was struck by the graceful beeuty of the war-bird. That night he appeared, quite unannounced, at the aviation camp and asked to be taken on a flight. It was in the early days of the ar, before aviation had been reduced to a fairly exact science. The aviation officers werd inclined to hesitate. But t. 19197 by Pu The Duchess Wales brushed aside their and had a good half hour 2000 fe above England, Brave, democratic, a torist, golfer and player of tennis, this is the side of Wales that would appeal especially to the Ame can girl. But there is the other side of the medal. And on the other side is traced all that pomp of ceremony that obligation of etiquette which n wife of a Prince can avoid. However democratic he may be, Wales will one day become King of Great Britain Emperor of India. And his wife may know all about tennis if she likes, but she must know all about how to man- age a court train and how to wear crown, The art of art in which every prince infancy, receiv Yet the dignity with wt American girl has take of duchess or for the way an Ameri play the role of soverei The Prince of Wales knows whether American women can grace an ancient and illustrious title. Among his closest friends are the American Duchess of Roxburghe and Viscountess Maidstone and Lady Gran: He the American Duchess of Marlborough and Duchess of Manchester, Lady Be and Lady Decies. And he has heard of the first wife of Lord Curzon, the American girl who made the loveliest vicereine that India ever seen, whose death was lamented by an em- pire. Wales admires American women: he has said so more than once. For to be Queen of England is no easy task. It means filling a position which has been filled by some of the most brilliant women in history. 1t means stepping at once into the radi- ance of glory reflected from Immemo ob, ons splendid mo: a clever being a que is m her ny an role well 1 girl would knows o has of Marlborough, the former Consuelo Vanderbilt (Above) Lady Decies, the former Vivien Gould ch with the jewels of great ; with romance. The American girl on her way to be crowned 1 have to cross the por- tals of We Abbey—that stu- pendous ch was ancient when Amer waited the discoverer. She would pace down the aisle where xon ki went ion, over ago. the canopied tomb which hides Elizabeth in the remnants of her stiff brocade and tarnished s. In that hushed walk through c 1 twilight of the Abbey she from the dim begin- history through its of power and sav- and triumph—all the / from the days of Saxon and Vik- ing invader to the days of the British and the vanquished Hun. All the way from tyranny to democracy. Perhaps 3 can Queen would fit in well as a symbol of that liberty towara which, even in the far, dark centuries, always fight- rial ag de lustrous wou the corona would journey ning £ h magnificent cou: agery, benignity the Anglo-Saxons were ing their determined course. The coronation of an English Queen is full of echoes of the past; bright with symbols of the greatness which comes to the e her hushand is Prince tretched hands from the .re reaching toward For her husband himself stands as a symbol of a nation which yielded, but never was conquered. When the present Prince of Wales was a lad of seventeen, there took place at Carnarvon Castle the in- vestiture of which yielding but un- conquered Wales is s0 proud “We accept no prince save one of Welsh birth,” the old Welsh warriors had told Edwsrd I, 600 years ago. “On my word as kuight and King Ingland. throne becat Wales, ou dead centuries her from every side. i ! /// ‘ // i appoint you a p: Welsh soil,” Edward promised. The warriors waited. And pres. ently, on top of the Queen's Gate, appeared Edward. In his arms he held Lis infant son, born in Car- narveon Castle, the previous night Behold the wily King. nce born upon your prince!” said In that same eighteen-foot thick withstood the assaults of and of time, Edward proclaimed Princ summers before world war. Nothing in recent years has out- shone the medieval beauty of that -The Prince’s ‘ew the ancient placed on the slim teen-year- and with castle, walls whose have battle Albert was of Wales three the vageant. own standard from They shoulders of 0ld boy the Tich e tower the seve mson cloak crowned his Welsk. gold. Upon they rplaced a heavy zold with a large amethys ibout which writhed the dragons ot Wal In his hands they placed the sword and the golden wand. And they called out to the assembled crowds, in Edward I, “Be- King the fil of one finger son ring set the identical words of hold your prince!” The Coronation Scene Jchoes % all this pomp and of its meaning must ring in the of any woman who walks up the Westminster Abbey toward throne of England. The crumbling and saddle of Henry V hang heam above her since aisle o« the helmet on one ponderous head, as they have hung hero of Agincourt was laid to rest in ihe tomb beneath them, five centuries , dust of the mighty dead in ers throughout the Abbey ,annot but tremble to the march of . peers and thrill to the resonance This is the spot, at the crossing of nave transept, where William the Conqueror crowned; William Rufus; Richard of the Lion-Heart; Henry the Eightb, his Queens and his daughters. The Abbey is filled to the farthest corner of its vast aisles with rank upon rank of peers and peeresses in robes of crimson and blue. The mag- nificence of the coloring, the gleam of jewels, fill the shrine as with a light from the glory of the past. But in all that assemblage none is more sumptu- ously attired than the Queen. In her robe of spun gold, crusted with gems, e is a trail of living fire as she rises and moves to the steps of the altar. Six train-bearers carry her court train, which ripples over the roval blue velvet carpet in waves of gold. A bishop stands at either hand as she kneels, and the Archbishop offers a brief prayer of consecration. At the conclusion of the prayer, the Queen rises and proceeds to the spot designated for her anointment, be- tween the altar steps and the King’s throne. Here she kneels at a fald- stool, while four peeresses hold above her head a rich pall of cloth of gold. From a vessel of pure gold the Arch- bishop pours a few drops of the con- secrated oil into a silver spoon; with this oil he anoints the head of the Queen. The keeper of the Jewel House hands the Queen’s ring, heavy with diamonds, to the Archbishop, who places it upon the fourth finger of the Queen’s right hand. Then—ah, then! the Archbishop lifts from the altar a crown of gold and crimson velvet, studded with dia- monds, rubjes, pearls and emeralds. “Reverently”-—so the ancient instruc- tions bid him—he places the circlet upon the Queen’s head, saying: “Re- ceive the crown of glory, honor and joy.” Immediately all the peeresses the of the trumpets. and was| The Duchess of Roxburghe, the former May Goelet on their coronets. Thereupon the Archbishop places a golden scepter in the Queen's right hand, and the ivory rod surmounted by a dove in her left, uttering another brief prayer. As he murmurs, “Amen,” the Queen and, accompanied by the twe bishops, returns to her place. “And she passes by the King on his throne”—thus the old instructions— “she shall bow herself reverently to his majesty, and then he conducted to her own throne and take her place in it.” “Then shall the organ play.” It is but the beginning of a career full of patience and no little labor, but a career of service to the country whose crown she wears. The Queen must be active in charities. She must isit hospitals countless cere- monies where cornerstones of publie buildings laid he must select her ladies in waiting with an eye not to their social graces but also to fair reputations. She must rule court wisely, avoiding the rousing jealousies—a. dreadful task. She must arrange lists of invitations. She must show herself at the opera, the theatre, the races. She must give lavish entertainments, befitting her ate. For decades, now that the war done, she must be active in rellef work for soldiers’ families and recon- struction work for veterans. She must be able to chat graciously with a peas- ant and play the hostess to visiting royalty. as attend are Union of Ideals She must answer, through her sec retaries, hundreds of letters a week. She must have general supervision of her household, if she is a really cap- able Queen. She must see carefully to the bringing up of her children, for me of them are likely to be rulers arious lands in the future. She must hold the loyalty and affection of her people in every way, remem- that always the fierce, white that beats about a throne is to search out every flaw. DPs she will never wear her again, after that one golden in the abbey. But always she will feel the gold circlet press her tem- ples; always the robe of state will hang rich and soft, but heavy, from her shoulders—as it did for Elizabetn 1 Mary and Anne. Is it likely that an American girl may be the next Queen of England? The union of democratic ideals with royal tradition would not dim the beauty of either, and should bring out the best in both. The world war has pointed the way to the abolition of many stiff rules. Perhaps the Prince of Wales really will masry an Ameri. Perhaps he won't But ha won't v if he does can.