Part 33 (1/2)
”My dear Baroness, I wish you would display a little more tact. Listen at my doors as much as you like, but whatever you do, don't spy on Her Majesty in my house.” She exuded a flood of tears and I sent her to her room. ”Don't come back until you can show a pleasant face. I want to see none other around me.”
LOSCHWITZ, _August 2, 1899_.
Ferdinand received a medical report from ----r. My first private advices regarding Marie's death were correct, but the additional details given are too horrible to contemplate.
The poor d.u.c.h.ess was brutally murdered. She died cursing her crowned murderer.
The manner in which she was put to death can only be likened to that of the lover in Heinrich von Kleist's poetically sublime, but morally atrocious, tragedy, _Penthesilcia_, except that, in poor Marie's case, the _woman_ suffered from the awful frenzy of the male, in whom the ”gentlest pa.s.sion” degenerated in Saturnalia of revolting cruelty. The Duke killed Marie because _doing so gave him the most d.a.m.nable pleasure,--her the most excruciating pain_.
Yet the King's will is the highest law and criminals on thrones laugh at the criminal code.
CHAPTER XLII
I LOSE ANOTHER OF MY LOVERS
Happily no scandal--Rewarded for bearing children--$1250--for becoming a mother--Royal poverty--Bernhardt, the black sheep, in hot water again--The King rebukes me for taking his part.
LOSCHWITZ, _August 10, 1899_.
Frederick Augustus sent for Ferdinand and gave him to understand that he had received divers anonymous letters, connecting my name with that of the Privy Councillor. ”Of course I don't believe a word of it,” said my husband, ”but one in my position cannot afford to flout public opinion.
It will be for the best, if you cease your services to Her Imperial Highness.”
Upon the same day Ferdinand received orders from the King to stop his visits.
The Baroness's doings, of course,--pin-p.r.i.c.ks when she would like to shoot with sharp cartridges. She evidently doesn't know the full extent of our intimacy. As to Ferdinand, he acted the coward, left my letters unanswered and didn't make the slightest attempt to continue relations that might possibly turn out to his disadvantage.
He is contemptible. My heart is unengaged, but my pride sadly humbled.
DRESDEN, _February 15, 1900_.
The King sent me an emerald, one-twentieth the size of that given me by the Shah of Persia. Frederick Augustus did himself proud and, on his part, I gained a pearl necklace in acknowledgment of my renewed services to the state. Little Marguerite was born January 24.
Frederick Augustus also gave me five thousand marks spending money. Not much for a multi-millionaire's wife or daughter, I reckon, but a terrible lot for an Imperial Highness.
When I read of the sums the Vanderbilts, Astors, Goulds and other dollar-kings spend in Paris and London, and even with us in Dresden, I sometimes wish I could exchange places with an American d.u.c.h.ess or Countess long enough to buy all the things beautiful and pretty I would like to own. An awful thing is royal poverty, but the reputation of affluence and unlimited resources, stalking ahead of us, whenever we enter a store or bargain with a jeweler, is worse.
”Your Imperial Highness is pleased to joke,” says my man-milliner, when I admit, unblus.h.i.+ngly, that I haven't the wherewithal to buy the things I dote on.
Wait till I am Queen, modistes, store-keepers, jewelers! The new Majesty will show you that she cares for money only to get rid of it.
DRESDEN, _February 20, 1900_.
This morning Lucretia came running to the nursery and whispered to me: ”Imperial Highness, quick, to the boudoir. He begged so hard, I smuggled him in.”