Pocketless Don Juan

"Mr. Speaker," said Will Thorne. British Laborite Member of Parliament, last week, "I wish to ask whether the former ruler of Spain should not be referred to as ex-King Alfonso, or Mr. Bourbon in these debates."

A conservative M. P. from the opposite benches leaped to his feet shouting, "Grossly offensive, sir! Grossly offensive!"

Speaker Fitzroy ignored the interruption, scratched his chin under his wig:

" 'King Alfonso' seems to me very suitable."

"Are you aware, sir," shouted Laborite Thorne, "that His Majesty's Government has recognized the Spanish Republic?"

"Yes, but the name given does not suggest that he is King of anywhere."

Alfonso XIII, King of Nowhere, Duke of Toledo, was comfortably settled in his quarters in Fontainebleau last week. Correspondents who have called him the ablest politician in Spain followed his maneuvres with interest.

First move was to make another of those sober, resigned, high minded statements which are so useful in re-establishing the prestige of deposed monarchs. This one was given to the world by Marques de Luca de Tena, editor of the Royalist Madrid daily, A. B. C. Said King Alfonso to Marques de Tena:

"The monarchy in Spain was ended by suffrage and if, in the future, it returns, it will be by the same voluntary action of the citizens. . . .

"I have decided absolutely to place no obstacles in the path of the Republican Government, which, for me, above all is now the Government of Spain. . . . It would be the greatest sacrifice of my life if I should be forced to abandon Spain. It would be very sad if, some day, history does not do me justice."

Second move was to hold a series of lengthy secret conferences in Paris, send the Marques de Tena hotfoot off to Madrid to beg the various Royalist groups in Spain to forget their differences for the time being and present a united front in the forthcoming June elections under that weepy eyed, white whiskered old gentleman, Jose Sanchez Guerra, Prime Minister shortly before the Dictatorship of Primo de Rivera.

Canny Alfonso believes that with Spain still in the first flush of Republican enthusiasm, Monarchists will be lucky to win 80 seats out of 400 in June. Three things, said he, may split the Republicans, make possible a restoration of the monarchy in the not too near future: the growth of Communism and Syndicalism, the separation of Catalonia and the Basque provinces, an unpopular Moroccan policy. But to start the ball rolling, a united Royalist front is imperative.

In Madrid, Marques de Tena, after blandly denying to reporters that he had received any "orders" from King Alfonso, ran against an immediate snag. White whiskered Senor Sanchez Guerra stubbornly refused to have truck or traffic with any Spanish Royalists who had defended or been members of Primo de Rivera's dictatorship.

Alfonso's third move was to let it be known--unofficially--that he would give up his own rights to the throne, not in favor of his easy bleeding firstborn, the Prince of the Asturias, nor in favor of his deaf-mute second son Don Jaime, but in favor of his third son, 17-year-old Don Juan Carlos, a cadet last week in the Royal Naval College, Dartmouth, Devonshire.

Naval College authorities frown on visiting reporters, but U. S. correspondents last week succeeded in seeing and talking with Alfonso's two strapping daughters, the Infantas Beatriz and Maria Christina who were taking lessons in stenography before becoming paid secretaries to their father and mother.

"Juan has the hardest life of any of us," said black eyed Beatriz. "He isn't even allowed to smoke at the Naval Academy. He hasn't a pocket in his English uniform. Think of it! In Spain he's always had all the pockets he wanted."

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