Secret Memoirs: The Story of Louise, Crown Princess Part 32

Sometimes, in the midst of an embrace, Ferdinand suddenly seems to recollect that a Queen trembles in his arms; the master turns _ame d.a.m.nee_. I am Sultana, Louise-Catherine.

Like Catherine the Great, I would throw millions to my favorites and millions more when I dismissed one. At any rate, I would give each a hundred thousand marks "to furnish himself with linen and silks,"--a _mot_ invented by the Semiramis of the North.

DRESDEN, _July 5, 1899_.

No more clinic for me. Ferdinand begged so hard, that I allowed him to introduce his wife. She came in after we finished our "consultation," a little heap of misfortune, execrably dressed, frightened, almost dead with submissiveness.

And I am robbing this poor creature; it's like stealing pennies from a child. And under her own roof.

It must not be. I am going to the country.

CHAPTER XLI

AN ATROCIOUS ROYAL SCANDAL

A royal couple that shall be nameless--The voluptuous d.u.c.h.ess--Her husband the worst of degenerates--"What monsters these royalties be"--Nameless outrages--A d.u.c.h.ess forced to have lovers--Ferdinand and I live like married folk--d.u.c.h.ess feared for her life--Her husband murdered her--I scold and humiliate my overbearing Grand Mistress--The medical report too horrible to contemplate.

----R, _July 15, 1899_.

I am afraid to date this entry. Another terrible indictment of royalty.

And, as usual, things criminal are at the bottom of the abuse of sovereign power.

The d.u.c.h.ess had a baby and asked me to be G.o.dmother to the little girl.

The King, eager to oblige his rich cousin, favored the journey. I insisted that Ferdinand accompany me. "Marie," I said, "hates Tisch, and she must, under no circ.u.mstances, be commanded to attend me." Lucretia would do. It would be cheaper.

The King first wouldn't hear of Dr. von Barthels going. People might think I had some chronic disease. But he finally gave in for the sake of the child I expect. "We need a few princes more from you," said His Majesty benignly. "When you got about a dozen boys, you can rest."

Pleasant job, that of a Crown Princess.

----R, _July 16, 1899_.

The d.u.c.h.ess is a pretty woman, her face a lovely oval. She has small eyes, the color of amethysts. Her complexion is as white and harmonious as if she washed in sow's milk, like the late Ninon.

Her mouth is sweet, but certain lines indicate that it can bite as well as smile. She has abundant hair, the color of Ferdinand's.

This dainty, albeit voluptuous, little person, is mated to a bull-necked He, pompous, broad and full of the conceit of the _duodez_ satrap.

Marie was forced to marry him; their honeymoon scarcely lasted a fortnight and he treated her shamefully after that. Of course, babies she must bear like any other "royal cow."

Gradually, very gradually, she got over her disappointment and shyness, developing into a cunning, world-wise woman. Then came the man she was bound to love, even as the violet is bound to be kissed by the sun. She had no scruples about accepting him, thinking herself ent.i.tled to compensation for the sorrows of her married life. And revenge is sweet.

The Duke found them out in the first month of their young love, walked into her boudoir one fine afternoon and remarked casually that none of his hats would fit him,--"on account of the horns you kindly planted on my forehead."

Marie was more dead than alive when he asked her for the key of her writing desk. She lied and lied; to no purpose.

He kicked open the writing desk, and with his iron fists broke the shelves and pigeon holes, laying bare a secret drawer and stacks of love letters it s.h.i.+elded. These he confiscated. Then locked himself into his room to enjoy his disgrace. This monster is a _m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t_ and s.a.d.i.s.t combined. He loves both to inflict suffering upon himself and upon others.

What monsters royalties be!

In the meanwhile Marie experienced all the tortures of purgatory; she thought of flight, of suicide. Before she could indulge in either her husband was back: Oth.e.l.lo in the last act.

Marie was frightened stiff, her brain a whirl, her limbs inert. Rape most foul this crowned satyr committed. "He fell upon me as a pack of hounds overwhelm a hunted, wounded she-stag," she said.

Afterwards he commanded her to describe minutely every detail of her relations with the other. He was primed with the letter-accounts; he made her dot her amorous I's and cross her bawdry T's. And every attempt at omission he punished with kicks and cuffs; no drayman or brick-layer could give a more expert exhibition of woman-beating! And he violated her again.

This was the beginning of a series of outrages of the same gross character. Marie suffered for years and years that His Royal Highness may gratify his unclean fancies: he the pander; she the Cyprian.

"If I ceased having lovers, I think he would kill me," says Marie.

Alas, such is the stuff "G.o.d's Anointed" are made of! In the face of such, we p.r.o.nounce a hypocritical _j'accuse_ upon the Louis's and Pompadours, upon Marie Antoinette even.

The d.u.c.h.ess, who knows, gave Ferdinand an apartment near my own. We are living here like man and wife. He sometimes calls me "_Frau Professor_."

LOSCHWITZ, _July 19, 1899_.

Marie is dead. "Died suddenly," said the telegram. I understand now why she begged me, with tears in her eyes, to remain at least two weeks. She was afraid that, though ill and suffering after the confinement, he would treat her as he did when he first found her unfaithful.

"Don't go," she cried. "It will be my death." And when I showed her the King's letter commanding me to return at once, she made her confidential tire-woman swear on the Bible that she wouldn't leave her for a minute, day or night, until she herself released her from the promise.

Private advices from ----r say His Highness brutally kicked the faithful maid out of his wife's bedroom and outraged his sick wife while the servant kept thundering at the door, denouncing her master a murderer.

Ferdinand says the great majority of crowned heads are s.e.xual voluptuaries, deserving of the penitentiary or the straight-jacket.

LOSCHWITZ, _August 1, 1899_.

I caught the Tisch stealing one of my letters. Happily there was nothing incriminating in it, though addressed to Ferdinand,--just the letter the Crown Princess would write to a Privy Councillor. But the petty theft indicates that she suspects. Prince George, I am told, receives a report from her every few days.

Well, I had my revenge. The Queen called today to see the children, and when Her Majesty and myself withdrew into my closet, the Tisch, who had been spying, didn't retire as promptly as she might.

"Can't you see that you are _de trop_," I said sharply to her. "Please close the door from outside." The Baroness gave a cry of dismay and the Queen was scandalized.

"Louise," she said, "that is no way to treat servants. You should always try to be kind and considerate with them."

"I am, thanks, Your Majesty," I replied. "All the officials and servants love me, but I have very good reasons for treating the Tisch as I do."

Of course, George will hear of this, and the Tisch will be reprimanded by him as well. Spies that compromise themselves, compromise their masters.

The same evening I said to the Tisch in the presence of the nurses: