Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 23

State dinner at five. I never saw such an ill-behaved brute, yet he intended to be most agreeable. We are very pious at this court, but on occasions like this even an old woman like the Queen is obliged to denude herself like a wet-nurse on duty.

His Majesty had the Queen on one side; me on the left. The King of Saxony was opposite.

After we sat down the Shah examined Queen Carola from the point of her chin to the edge of her desolate corsage and had the effrontery to express disapproval in all but words. Then he turned to me. His gaze became admiring. He was evidently delighted with his discoveries and, true despot that he is, turned his back on the Queen, while paying extravagant court to my charms.

The King, the whole vast a.s.sembly, the surrounding splendor were lost on this mutton-eater of a barbarian. He saw only me, _m-e_, ME, and I'm sure would have consigned all the rest to some unspeakable Oriental death for five minutes' _tete-a-tete_ with Louise.

"You are neglecting Her Majesty," I whispered to him over and over again. This seemed to enrage him, but at last he turned to the Queen, expecting her to begin a conversation with him. Of course, Her Majesty thought he would take the initiative, which led to mutual staring, the Shah's eyes growing wickeder every second. Then he began to devote himself to the food and, be sure, there was small pleasure in watching him. He fed more like a dog than a human being and actually had the effrontery to wipe his sauce-spattered hands in the lap of my state robe.

Then, before his mouth was empty, he began talking again.

"Which of the princes is your husband?"

I singled out Frederick Augustus. "He isn't a beauty by any means," he said, after examining him like a horse for sale.

The next second his eyes were wandering over my body; I felt as if I was being disrobed.

"You will attend the opera?"

"I'll have the honor."

"I will send you a little present after dinner," he said. "If you wear it tonight, I will regard that as a sign of hope." The beast affected a sentimentality to which he must be a stranger.

I recalled that he was the monster who carpeted the steps of his throne with the gouged-out eyes of ten thousand enemies of his regime when he was crowned. On twenty-thousand human eyes he trod with naked feet as he acclaimed himself "King of kings" and the "true son of G.o.d." And Juggernaut was in love with me!

I was speechless. Did he take me for a dancing girl? I narrowed my shoulders and gave him a look of disdain. House Marshal Baron Carlowitz, standing behind the King's chair, took in the situation and whispered to King Albert.

The King immediately rose from table and the state dinner came to an abrupt end.

An hour later, while I was dressing for the theatre, a big jewel box was handed in. "From the Shah."

Despite my disgust with the fellow, I opened it in feverish haste. There was a bracelet set with rubies, sapphires and emeralds of fabulous size.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE SHAH COMPROMISES ME IN PUBLIC

Has only eyes for me at the grand manoeuvres, and I can't drive him from my carriage--Ignores the King and the military spectacle--Calls me his adored one--Court in despair--Shah ruins priceless carpets to make himself a lamb stew.

DRESDEN, _December 1, 1894_.

I am in disgrace again and that uncouth animal, the Shah, is responsible.

The dinner episode was bad enough, but he carried on worse at the grand parade next day.

Six or eight regiments, Horse, Foot and Artillery, had been moved to do him honor, but he flatly refused to accept a mount for the occasion.

Like the ladies of the royal family, he drove to the parade field in a coach and four, and no sooner did he clap eyes on me at the rendezvous in another vehicle than he left his and shambled over to me. He stood at the carriage door, chanting love and devotion, and if I hadn't been all ice, I have no doubt he would have jumped in and ordered the coachman to drive to a hotel.

Meanwhile the King trotted around the manoeuvre field in honor of his "sublime guest." Evolutions, _Parade-marsch_, attacks, saluting the colors, Persian and Saxon, what not? Imagine the feelings of the old King when he rode up to the Shah's gala coach and found it empty.

The marching past had begun, and still the "King of kings" turned his back on it all, while trying to persuade me to be Queen of his seraglio.

Our courtiers, the princes, the Queen, the generals were in despair.

They took counsel with each other, disputed, advised, got red in the face. The Shah's gentlemen alone kept cool. They probably argued: If our master prefers the company of a pretty woman to looking at ten thousand men, he shows his good taste.

I tried to shake him off. He stood his ground and smiled.

"The Grand March has begun, Your Majesty."

"Bother the Grand March."

The King began to bombard me with ungracious, glances, and of course everybody stared. Three times I asked the big b.o.o.by to return to his carriage to oblige his host. "Not while I may look at you, adored one."

His love-making became desperate. The Crown Princess of Saxony, the Imperial Highness of Austria, the "adored one" of this butcher, who was ruining twenty-five thousand marks' worth of carpets in his apartments at our palace by using them as a shambles to prepare his breakfast of lamb stew. It was contemptible,--nay, ridiculous. Surely there was nothing to do but laugh. And I laughed and laughed again.

Only when the last battalion had marched by and the music ceased, the "King of kings" returned to his carriage and drove back to Dresden with the most bored looking visage of the world.

CHAPTER x.x.x

MY LIFE AT COURT BECOMES UNBEARABLE

Laughter a crime--Disappointed Queen lays down the law for my behavior--Frederick Augustus sometimes fighting drunk--Draws sword on me--Prince George would have me beaten--To bed with his boots on.

DRESDEN, _January 5, 1895_.

Ever since the Shah left I have been the object of criticism, suspicions and down-right attacks by the pretty family I married into. These pages witness that I tried to conform to the absurd notions and comply with the narrow-minded idiosyncrasies of the Royal Wettiners. I give it up.

It can't be done, and I won't make another effort at pleasing my relatives-in-law, who adjudge laughter a crime and the desire to make friends a bid of lewdness.

Prince George invented the phrase, "Louise is over-desirous to please,"

and Queen Carola paid me a state visit to acquaint me with the new indictment.

"Good gracious," I said to Her Majesty, "is that all? I thought of being accused of 'sa.s.sing' the Archangel Gabriel. As to desire to please, that's exactly what ails me. I love to please. I love to see people happy. I love to make friends."

"My dear child," said the Queen, "you haven't the slightest notion of royal dignity. You talk like a _cocotte_. It's a Princess's place to be honored, to be held in supreme esteem."

Poor old woman! She was never pretty, never was made love to, never had admirers, legitimate or otherwise; she thus became impregnated with the fixed idea that to be fair and to be loved for one's fairness is frivolous, if not altogether reprehensible.

_March 10, 1895._