Idyll of a King

In the Hall of the Realm in Stockholm's royal palace, the two houses of Parliament waited. The royal brass band struck up the Song of the King. In walked an old gentleman as precariously thin as a Nordic Don Quixote. He bowed right & left, then took his seat on the ermine-draped throne, beside a taboret bearing the crown which he had never actually worn (he disapproves of elaborate ceremonies). Then Gustaf V, King of Sweden, of the Goths and the Wends, began his speech from the throne. It was a comfortable occasion. His Majesty had delivered substantially the same speech 40 times before, and 40 times his subjects had been glad to hear it. "Our relations with other nations," the King said in his accustomed phrase, "are good."

Thus the world was gently reminded last week that Sweden's King Gustaf V was still around.

Galoshes. When Napoleon's Marshal Jean Bernadotte became Charles XIV of Sweden in 1818, he was afraid that revolutionaries might endanger his throne. "Sire," said one of his ministers, "the only danger to which you are exposed in Sweden is a cold, and you can avoid that by wearing galoshes."

Bernadotte's great-grandson, Gustaf, has worn galoshes throughout his reign, and has been bothered by neither colds nor revolutions. As added health measures, he has taken annual junkets to the Riviera, stuck to tennis, Nobel Prize speeches, and other strictly constitutional exercises. One of his most independent and controversial achievements was the discovery in a Paris cafe, in 1934, of Hildegarde, the "French" chanteuse from Milwaukee. He has been close to his subjects, even liked to answer his own telephone. (Since his number was similar to a popular theater's, Stockholmers often inadvertently asked their King for two on the aisle.) He affably hands callers lighted matches for their cigarettes; but once when a Swedish politician, now dead, stuck a cigar in his mouth, expecting the King to light it for. him, Gustaf just let the match drop on the floor.

Lobster. Last week, the royal scene was, as usual, pure pastel. Gustaf now spends most of his time at Drottningholm Castle, which stands on an island in a lake near Stockholm (his town palace has too many stairs, only one elevator). From his study window he can see his subjects walking beneath the huge trees in the garden or near the pond where, in the summer, they feed Gustaf's swans. He likes to surround himself with women & children, lunches in the company of elderly ladies in waiting. His favorite dish is still lobster in brandy sauce, and he still wolfs his food. (At royal dinner parties he leaves his harassed guests time for barely one helping.) His physician, who plays the lute, declares that the King is in excellent health. Nevertheless, at 89, Gustaf is old.

He fights old age. He still goes elk hunting (in a jeep), deliberately loses the cane he was forced to adopt, still smokes 30 cigarettes a day (they are specially rolled for him by one Mrs. Matilda Granditzky, of Sweden's tobacco monopoly). Recently he demonstrated his favorite acrobatic trick to his gasping entourage: sitting on a chair, he lifted both legs and placed his feet behind his ears.

Lightning. Nevertheless, "Mr. G." (his tournament pseudonym) has had to give up his favorite sport, which he introduced to Sweden in 1878--tennis. He now concentrates on embroidery, which, he claims, "steadies the nerves and teaches patience." He uses a zigzag Italian technique called "flash of lightning." He has just finished an altar cloth for the First Lutheran Church of Worcester, Mass,.

Aside from embroidery, he likes the movies ("something funny today" is his daily request). He has recently turned against an old favorite, Donald Duck, because the action has become too fast for him to follow. His conversation these days is dominated by recollections of things long past--like the time in Nice he beat Ely Culbertson at bridge and telephoned Premier Per Albin Hansson to report the triumph; or the match during which an enthusiastic spectator had called out: "Oh, V-Gurra,* you're a hell of a fine chap. You are the chap of all times." He is currently reading a biography of Queen Victoria, an old personal acquaintance.

Certain forces at work in the modern world have intruded on Gustaf's memories. Recently the Swedish Parliament voted to supplement the King's yearly allowance of 800,000 kroner ($200,000) with a 150,000 kronor cost-of-living bonus, designed to keep their old King's idyll undisturbed by inflation. His subjects thought it was a nice gesture.

*"V" stands for five; "Gurra" is a Swedish nickname for Gustaf.

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