“I am so glad that I am queen of a country in which everybody loves simplicity.”

This was the testimony to the charm of Norway which Queen Maud gave me, when I saw her in her little home near Christiania in the autumn of 1913. She spoke with enthusiasm of her adopted country, and I was not in the least surprised, for Norway is undoubtedly the happiest and most progressive country in Europe. Indeed, if anybody wants to know what life will be like in the good time that is coming, when Capitalism will be dead and Democracy triumphant on both sides of the Atlantic, let him go to Norway and study its institutions and the life of its people.

“When I am at Lourdes,” said a devout Catholic, “I do not believe—I know.” And when I was in Norway I did not need to make an act of faith in democracy, as I must in Paris or New York or London; I saw for myself that a nation is happier when its life is based on democratic principles.

“How deadly dull!” said a fashionable woman to me, when I told her of the simplicity of life in Christiania. “Surely Your Royal Highness does not want to eliminate the colour and brilliancy of life!”

She had never realised that the glitter and magnificence of Society in great capitals can only exist against a background of misery and starvation. Norway is not a wealthy country and it does not afford capitalists opportunities for piling up fortunes. Nobody is very rich, and everybody appears to have a sufficiency. The cosmopolitan plutocrats, who corrupt the Society of Western Europe, would be wretched there, and, in point of fact, they avoid a country in which they are perfectly well aware they would be unable to display their wealth. And if the citizens of Christiania are deprived of the sight of millionaires darting about the town in illuminated motor-cars, with jewelled wives and daughters, they are compensated for the loss by the knowledge that, thanks to the equitable distribution of such wealth as the country possesses, crime and robbery are practically unknown. Education and common sense have broken down the barriers of pride of purse and pride of rank, which separate man and man in other countries, and the King himself is simply the first among equals.

When the Norwegian people determined that the industrial and commercial life of the country should no longer be hampered by Sweden, and declared their independence, they placed a king at the head of the State. They were clever enough to see that the country would have more prestige in the eyes of Europe as a monarchy than as a republic, and they were wise enough to give the king no power. Possibly they thought that a prince, who, if the expression be allowed me, is born to the business, would make a more effective figure-head than a commoner, and they may have considered that the peaceful succession of hereditary monarchs is less agitating to the nerves of the nation than recurring presidential elections. However this may be, their king is to them what their flag is: a symbol of national unity. Both are saluted with respect, but neither one nor the other is invested with power.

King Haakon’s fine figure and handsome face make him look the part he has to play. He is a man of great tact and kindliness, and has the simple tastes characteristic of the Danish Royal Family. To these advantages the King adds the supreme one of having a clever Queen, who helps him wisely and loyally in his work. Their son, little Prince Olaf, is utterly charming and, in spite of being an only child, not the least spoilt.

I had not seen Queen Maud in her kingdom until I went to Norway in the autumn of 1913, and I wondered whether her rise from the rank of mere “Royal Highness” to that of a “Majesty” would have altered or spoilt her. She was staying at a little chÂteau near Christiania when I arrived in the city, and she asked me to come out and have luncheon with her. When a royal carriage arrived at my hotel to take me to the country, and I noticed that the servants wore plain, dark liveries, instead of the regal scarlet, I began to feel that the charming Maud had not changed. Half an hour’s drive brought me to the chÂteau, and as the Queen welcomed me I felt ashamed of the suspicions I had entertained, and realised that she remains the same simple and unaffected girl I used to know in England.

“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said, and as she spoke I heard in her voice and saw in her manner the charm she has inherited from her mother, Queen Alexandra.

The chÂteau is a small house of one story, standing in a public park. A plot of ground has been railed off round the house, so that the King and Queen may have a garden in which they can enjoy privacy. Not that they are annoyed, like most kings and queens, with demonstrative manifestations of loyalty. The Norwegians contrive to make life agreeable for the Royal Family by allowing them to go about the countryside or through the streets of the capital as freely as ordinary citizens. Queen Maud revels in her new liberty.

“I find it so nice to be able to go out shopping without any fuss,” she said, and told me that she could go into a shop in Christiania without anybody taking any notice of her, buy what she wanted, and leave with her parcels tucked under her arm to walk back to the palace.

I could understand her delight better than most people, for in Madrid I have experienced the misery of knowing that I can not get in or out of a carriage without attracting a small crowd. To find oneself perpetually a public show is beyond words exasperating.

Queen Maud’s Court consists of two ladies-in-waiting and a Grand Mistress, a suite which is no larger than that of the least important of the numerous Austrian archduchesses. And, moreover, these ladies do not make deferential curtsies to Her Majesty. The Queen shakes hands with them when she meets them, and treats them, not as glorified servants, but as friends. The point may appear trivial, but it is worth mentioning, for it shows with what tact a princess, accustomed to the etiquette and the splendour of the English Court, has adapted herself to the spirit of a democratic people.

“You were perfectly right,” she said to me, “in what you used to tell me about the happiness of simplicity.”

“Of course I was right,” I said, “and I do not believe you would care to go back to the old Court life.”

“I am much happier in this life,” she said, and then it was that she told me how glad she was to be Queen of a country in which everybody loves simplicity.

It was obvious to me that both the King and Queen adore the fascinating little Olaf; but I noticed that he has been very well brought up and is very obedient. He is being educated with Norwegian boys of his own age and leads a healthy out-of-door life.

“I want you to see Olaf driving the motor-car his grandmother has sent him,” said the Queen; and Queen Alexandra’s present, the tiniest and most dainty little car imaginable, was brought round to the door of the chÂteau. The little prince made a splendid chauffeur, and evidently thoroughly enjoyed rushing round the park in his car.

I left the chÂteau feeling that I had had a glimpse of ideal family life, and thoroughly convinced that the democratic Norwegian Court is the nicest in Europe.

I do not in the least mind confessing that when I advocate democratic principles I have the interests of the royal personages at heart as well as those of their peoples. There are plenty of princes and princesses, bound hand and foot by etiquette and galling restrictions, who, whatever their present views may be, will welcome the liberty democracy will bring them. Happy King Haakon and Queen Maud; although they are addressed as “Your Majesties,” they are allowed to live in a tiny red bungalow, up in the mountains at Holm Kelm, when winter comes, and there they and Prince Olaf dart about on skis, talking to everybody, making every one happy, happy themselves in being three Norwegian citizens.

And beyond the circle of the Court the constitution of Norwegian society is utterly different from that of society in the more powerful European countries. Both the law and society regard woman as in every respect the equal of man. Women have the same civic rights as men and use them. At the last parliamentary elections, in 1913, 75 per cent, of the women of the towns who had the right to vote used it; indeed the proportion of women who did their duty as citizens and recorded their votes was higher than that of men. All the higher professions are open to women, and at the present time the most important of the professors at the university is a woman and the leading lawyer connected with the Supreme Tribunal is also a woman. The Norwegians refuse to tolerate cheap female labour; if a woman does the same work as a man she gets the same pay.

Society is equally just. It does not apply one standard of morals to man and another to woman. Both are judged by the same standard, and a girl does not lose her position in society for conduct which in other countries is blamed in a woman and condoned in a man. Some Norwegian couples prefer to contract free unions instead of legal marriages, and now that the influence of Lutheranism on the life of the country is practically dead, society does not look at such unions askance. Married and unmarried couples live in peace and associate freely. In a country where everybody works there is little time or opportunity for the development of crimes passionels, so if a couple find that they have made a mistake and that life in common is too difficult, they just part without quarrelling and build up their lives anew.

The happy relations existing between the men

and women of Norway are, I am convinced, largely due to the fact that they are educated together at school and in the university. The equality of male and female students at the university seems to be symbolised by the wearing of identical caps of the same gay colours. From childhood they grow up together and become good comrades, understanding each other thoroughly and without arriÈre pensÉe, having the same moral code and the same views of life. In most countries boys and girls are segregated apart and only allowed to meet under the supervision of their elders. The system is not a good one. Indeed, I have often thought that nothing gives a girl’s brain such a wrong twist as the false view given her at school about the companionship of men. Why perpetually dread man and see in him only the seducer? By doing so I believe we very often wake up in him instincts that might otherwise lie dormant.

The education the girls and boys receive together is an excellent one. Norwegians understand the importance of acquiring foreign languages, which they require in commerce and for dealing with the numerous foreign tourists who make their beautiful fiords and mountains a holiday playground. Hence both English and German are taught in all the schools, and the instruction given is so good that the children actually learn to converse in these languages. More than once I was astonished to find that a cabman could answer me in English or German.

The Norwegians are a vigorous and hardy race. In their veins flows the blood of Vikings, and they are determined that the nation shall not deteriorate physically. With this end in view the law provides for the protection of the mother during her time of expectation and for her support and comfort during the six weeks following the birth of her child. Moreover, careful provision is made for the upbringing of children born outside wedlock, and neither father nor mother is allowed to shirk the responsibility of parentage.

The separation of Norway and Sweden was due to the desire of the Norwegians, whose merchant fleet is twice the size of the Swedish, to have their commercial interests abroad properly looked after by an independent consular service. This was the formal cause of separation, but undoubtedly the marked difference between the social organisation of the two countries facilitated the unloosing of the bonds that held them together. Sweden still has an aristocracy, and the nobles who sit in the Upper House of the Swedish Parliament are able to check in some degree the advance of democracy. Yet in their love of simplicity the two nations are alike. This was made clear to me in rather an amusing way soon after my arrival in Stockholm during my autumn tour. I was going to the theatre with a friend, and when she arrived to fetch me I was getting into an evening gown.

“Is Your Royal Highness going to wear a low dress?” she said in a manner that made me feel I was doing something thoroughly unconventional.

“Oughtn’t I to?” I asked.

“We do not go in evening-dress to the theatre,” she said.

“Then what am I to wear?” I asked.

“Just a skirt and blouse,” she said.

And accordingly in a skirt and blouse I went. It was rather a pretty blouse—I confess that I love pretty things—and when I got into the theatre I felt just a trifle overdressed.

“What sensible people you Swedish women are!” I said to my friend, when I looked round the theatre and saw how simply the women were dressed. “You save hours and hours which women in London and Paris fritter away at their toilet-tables.”

In point of fact the Swedish woman has not usually either the time or money required to turn herself into a woman of fashion. And even if she had, she is too sensible to make her appearance the absorbing care of life. Careers which are closed to women in other lands are open to her, and she prefers to be independent and to earn her living. At the present time the Swedish women have not been granted electoral rights, but there can be no doubt that they will obtain the same right as men in the course of time. The Conservative party in the Upper House shrinks from yielding to the demands of the women, fearing that their votes will strengthen the Socialists in the Lower House. But the nobles are certain to do justice to women sooner or later, and at the present time there is only a majority of twelve in the Upper House against the granting of the suffrage to women.

As it is, that Upper House puts too strong a brake on the wheels of progress. At one Swedish railway-station I saw a number of emigrants who were starting for America. They did not display the least sorrow at leaving their native land; on the contrary, they were bearing wreaths of flowers and singing joyfully, as if they were only too thankful to get away from Sweden. It was a sad and eloquent testimony to the evils that still mar the social structure of Sweden. Indeed, the stream of emigrants who cross the Atlantic to enrich the life of America with their work is so great and so constant that a Royal Commission has been endeavouring to find out its causes. In their report the Commissioners state that the principal cause of emigration is the failure of the Government to accelerate legislation for the improvement of the conditions of the working classes. In the circumstances, it is but natural that there should be a powerful Socialist party in the country. The Crown Prince is clever enough to see that this party is one which will increase in power with the lapse of time, but his efforts to establish friendly relations with its leaders have not been very well received. He talks good-humouredly and shakes hands with prominent Socialists, but the party appears to see in these little attentions nothing more than a symptom of the future king’s fear of the rising power of the working classes.

The Court of Sweden is, however, characterised by Scandinavian simplicity, although this is naturally not so strongly marked as at the ideal Court of King Haakon and Queen Maud. The Queen of Sweden’s health is too bad to allow her to appear in public. Hence the principal figure at Court, apart from the King, is the Crown Princess, before her marriage Princess Margaret of Connaught, and she has contrived to give it just a touch of the elegance of the Court of St. James’s. I lunched with her when I was in Stockholm, and she told me how much she loves her Swedish life. Her marriage is a very happy one. King Gustav has inherited from his father a great charm of manner and a fine figure, which devotion to tennis helps him to keep. He is fond of all sorts of sport and is an excellent shot.

I used to see a good deal of the late King Oscar. His French ancestry and his personal charm made him very popular in France, a country he loved, and during his numerous visits to Paris I had the opportunity of getting to know him well, and I became very fond of him. I was in Sweden in 1897, travelling incognito, and I remember sitting down to rest one day within sight of Sophie Rue, King Oscar’s Norman villa, and, as I looked at the peaceful home of my old friend, I hoped that his last years would not be embittered by the dissolution of the union between Sweden and Norway. But the blow came to the “poet king,” whose spirit seemed to live above the dull realities of life, and it came when he was old and broken down with the illness which at last caused his death. Kings must yield to the imperious will of democracy, and I look forward to the time when Sweden will have the advantages enjoyed by her sister kingdom.

I visited Denmark as well as Norway and Sweden that autumn, and there also I remarked the growth of democratic ideas. It is a peaceful country, and the souls of the people seem as clear as their blue eyes. The Danes are a kind, industrious and simple race, and, if they strike one as being less hardy and vigorous than the other Scandinavian races, they certainly have the same courteous manners as the Swedes and the Norwegians.

The first time that I visited Denmark King Christian, the father of Queen Alexandra and the Empress Marie, was reigning, and the castle, in which his large family used to assemble for those reunions which he loved, was looked on by the Danes with a sort of reverence. But I remember that once, when I was travelling incognito, I drove past the castle in a cab, and the friendly driver, anxious to oblige a tourist, told me that a great family gathering was taking place there. He reeled off the names of the world-famous personages who had gathered round the King, and he did so with as much indifference as a London cabman displayed when he pointed out Mme. Tussaud’s to me the first time I was in London, and casually explained that wax figures were kept there. The attitude of the Danish cabman towards the Royal Family, which seemed to me curious years ago, appears to be that of most Danes at the present time. They have ceased to take any particular interest in the doings of their Sovereign and his relations. Nothing strikes me more, as I go about Europe, than the fact that, if I may be allowed the expression, the market value of princes and princesses has enormously decreased.

I went to an hotel in Copenhagen, and I had not been long in the capital before a card, inscribed with a single Danish word, was brought to me. I stared at it, not recognising the name and wondering who it was had been to see me. Then it suddenly dawned on me that the word on the card was simply the Danish for “Queen.” Her Majesty had been to see me, and, of course, I went to see her. The Royal Family appears now to live in retirement, and its members form a small caste, penned off from the rest of mankind by their rank. Their chief amusement seems to be paying calls on each other. Most of them live at their country villas and chÂteaux, and in these pleasant homes there is a constant succession of cousinly meetings, when family news is exchanged, and while the children play the elders take a stroll in the park surrounding the house at which the family gathering is taking place.

The King displays that peculiar form of wit which I have often noticed is characteristic of crowned heads who have lived much in retirement. With them the gaiety of childhood seems, with the passing of the years, to turn into a curious spirit of mockery. Trifles create shouts of laughter, enlivening the family circle and confusing those who are unacquainted with the type of witticisms which goes down in royal circles.

And beyond the tranquil enclosures of the royal parks the Danish people is moving surely and steadily towards a broader and more democratic life than it has hitherto enjoyed. And women are in the forefront of the movement. The Danish women refuse to be slaves of fashion and display a certain charming coquetry in their dress. Numbers of them earn their own living and are thus independent of men. This is the sure road for women to take if they desire to have the same rights and privileges as men. As it is, the Danish woman has established for herself a position which her Latin sisters may well envy, and the law secures her independence. She will, I am convinced, be given electoral rights, and she will have no need to resort to militant methods to obtain them.

On the road between Copenhagen and Helsingfors a milk-white villa stands out against the faint blue background of the northern sky. There it was that I passed the happiest moments of my stay in Denmark, and there I found at least two crowned heads who have remained human in spite of the crushing weight of the crowns they have worn for so many years. The Italian villa is the home of Queen Alexandra and the Empress Marie, and the two sisters, who adore each other, are absolutely happy in each other’s society, and in the simplicity of the life they lead. They welcomed me with enthusiasm, kissed me, and were quite excited to have somebody to whom they could show their little house. In the sitting-room they share they both wanted to show me their special corners at the same time.

“Come and see my writing-table,” said the Empress, pulling me to her end of the room.

“No,” cried Queen Alexandra gaily, pulling me in the opposite direction; “come and see my writing-table.”

How we all laughed!

“This is my chair,” said the Empress, showing me one in her corner of the room.

“And this is my chair,” echoed the Queen, calling my attention to the favourite chair in her corner.

I had to see everything and admire everything. The two sisters seemed particularly proud of their kitchen garden, and seemed to be delighted to find that I knew something about growing vegetables. I have a kitchen garden of my own in Normandy, where I have a little house, and we were able to compare notes.

And after we had inspected flowers and vegetables we went through an underground passage, which their Majesties have had cut beneath the road that divides the garden of the cottage and the sea-shore, a tiny stretch of which has been walled off, so that the Empress and the Queen may enjoy it undisturbed. When we were inside the cottage the Empress offered me a thin Russian cigarette, and lit one herself. Then Queen Alexandra showed me their tea-kettle and the little kitchen in which they make their own cakes and brew their own tea.

“This is where I make my tea,” cried the Queen.

“And this is where I cut the bread-and-butter,” said the Empress.

They were as happy as two schoolgirls, revelling in the simple life of a home where they can live like two ordinary women, untrammelled by Court etiquette and without even a single lady-in-waiting to attend them.

After visiting the Norwegian cottage I had to see a new marvel. We went down to the beach, and the two sisters explained to me that it was a splendid place for picking up bits of amber. I had seen so much amber in the Castle of Rosenberg and in the shops of Copenhagen that it seemed improbable that there could be any more in the Baltic. Nevertheless, there appears to be plenty left, for both the Empress and the Queen showed me the boxes in which they store the treasure they find on the shore. The Empress is luckier in finding amber than the Queen, and her box contained more than her sister’s.

“It is most unfair,” said the Queen gaily.

“I always pick up more than you do,” said the Empress triumphantly.

We searched for amber until it was time for me to go, and we enjoyed ourselves like children.

Both the Empress and the Queen have played the great parts they have had to fill on the stage of life with dignity and distinction, but they are Danes, and they have never lost the love of simplicity which is the most notable characteristic of the peoples of Scandinavia. Now that they can live their lives as they like, they deliberately leave their palaces and spend a great part of their time more simply than many commoners. To see their happiness made me happier myself, and, indeed, my tour in Scandinavia has given me new courage. All that I saw and heard made me feel that the time will come when democracy will make many of the crooked things of this life straight.