The Secrets of Potsdam

Indeed, within that one year, 1902, I accompanied "William-the-Sudden" and his host of adjutants, military and civil secretaries, valets, chasseurs and flunkeys, to twenty-eight different cities in Germany and Scandinavia, where he stopped and held Court. Some cities we visited several times, being unwelcome always because of the endless trouble, anxiety and expense caused to the municipal authorities and military casinos.

I, of course, knew the charming Imperial Highness the Crown-Princess Luisa of Saxony, as she often came on visits to the Kaiserin, but I had never spoken much with her until at Easter the Emperor went to visit Dresden. He took with him, among other people, one of his untitled boon companions, Judicial Councillor Löhlein, a stout, flabby-faced hanger-on, who at the time possessed great influence over him. Indeed, he was really the Emperor's financial agent. This man had, some time ago, very fortunately for the Emperor, opened his eyes to the way in which Kunze had manipulated the amazing Schloss Freiheit Lottery, and had been able to point out to the All-Highest One what a storm of ridicule, indignation and defiance must arise in Berlin if he attempted to carry out his huge reconstruction and building scheme.

I was present in the Emperor's room at Potsdam when old Löhlein, with whom sat Herr von Wedell, openly declared to the Emperor that if he prosecuted his pet building scheme great indignation must arise, not only in the capital, but in Hanover, Wiesbaden, and Kassel.

The Kaiser knitted his brows and listened attentively to both of his advisers. I well remember how, next day, the Press, in order to allay the public dissatisfaction, declared that the huge building projects of the Emperor never existed. They had been purely imaginary ideas put forward by a syndicate of speculative builders and taken up by the newspapers.

Without doubt the podgy, fair-haired man in gold-rimmed spectacles, the Judicial Councillor Löhlein, by crushing the Kaiser's mad scheme gained considerable popularity in a certain circle. He was, however, a man of exceptional craft and cunning, and during the eight years or so he remained the intimate friend of the Emperor he must have, by advising and looking after the Imperial investments, especially in America, amassed a great fortune.

On the occasion of our Easter visit to the Saxon Court – a Court which, to say the least, was a most dull and uninteresting one – we all went, as is the custom there, to the shoot at the Vogelschiessen, a large wooden bird made up of pieces which fall out when hit in a vital part. The bird target is set up at the Easter fair held close to Dresden, and on that afternoon the whole Court annually go to try their skill at marksmanship. We were a merry party. The Emperor went with the old King and Queen of Saxony, being accompanied by the Crown-Prince Friedrich-August and the Crown-Princess Luisa, merry, laughing, full of spirits, and unusually good-looking for a Royalty.

The Saxon Royal Family all shot, and, thanks to her father's tuition, the Crown-Princess knocked a piece out of the bird at the first shot, which sent the public wild with enthusiasm.

Luisa was the most popular woman in Saxony, and deservedly so, for hers had been a love match. Her father, Ferdinand IV., Grand Duke of Tuscany, had, at the suggestion of the Emperor Francis Joseph, endeavoured to arrange a match between the Princess and the man now known as "foxy" Ferdinand of Bulgaria. With that object a grand dîner de cérémonie was held one night at the Imperial Castle of Salzburg, and at that dinner Luisa, suspecting the conspiracy, publicly insulted the Ruler of Bulgaria, which for ever put an end to the paternal plans.

After her marriage to the Saxon Crown-Prince the Kaiser, in one of his whimsical moods, became greatly attached to her because of her frankness, her love of outdoor life, and her high educational attainments, hence we often had her visiting at Potsdam or at the Berlin Schloss. She was known to be one of the few feminine Royalties in whom the Kaiser took the slightest interest.

After our return from the public shooting to the Royal Palace in Dresden, a banquet was, of course, held in honour of the Emperor in that great hall where, on the walls, the four estates are represented by scenes from the history of the Emperor Henry I.

At the grand ball afterwards I found myself chatting with Luisa, who, I recollect, wore a most charming and artistic gown of sea-green chiffon, décolleté, of course, with pink carnations in her hair and a few diamonds upon her corsage, as well as the Order of St. Elizabeth and her magnificent rope of matched pearls, which went twice round her neck and reached to her knees – a historic set which had once belonged to Marie Antoinette. She looked very charming, and, in her frank way, asked me:

"How do you like my dress, Count? I designed it myself," she added.

I complimented her upon it, but I afterwards heard that the old King of Saxony had been horrified at the lowness to which the bodice had been cut, and, further, that every yard of green chiffon in Dresden had been sold out before noon next day and the dress copied everywhere.

As we stood chatting in a corner of the room, watching the scene of unusual brilliancy because of the Kaiser's presence, the Princess, turning to me, said suddenly:

"Do you believe in omens, Count von Heltzendorff?"

"Omens!" I exclaimed, rather surprised at her question. "Really, I'm afraid I am a little too matter-of-fact to take such things seriously, your Highness."

"Well, a curious thing happened here about a month ago," she said. "I was – " At that instant the Emperor, in the uniform of the 2nd Regiment of Saxon Grenadiers, of which he was chief, and wearing the Order of Crancelin of the House of Saxony, strode up, and, standing before us exclaimed:

"Well, Luisa? What is the very interesting topic of conversation, eh?" He had evidently overheard her words about some curious thing happening, for, laughing gaily, he asked; "Now, what did happen a month ago?"

Her Imperial Highness hesitated, as though endeavouring to avoid an explanation, but next second she waved her lace fan quickly and said:

"Well, something remarkable. I will tell your Majesty if you really wish to hear it."

"By all means, Luisa, by all means," replied His Majesty, placing his sound hand behind his back and drawing himself up very erect – a habit of his after asking a question.

"Well, recently Friedrich-August and myself have moved into rooms in the older wing of the Palace – rooms that have not been occupied for nearly forty years. They are old-world, charming, and remind me constantly of Augustus the Strong and the times in which he lived. Just about a month ago the King and Queen of Roumania were paying us a visit. We were at dinner, and while we were all laughing and talking, for 'Carmen Sylva' had been telling us one of her stories, we heard a great clatter of horses' hoofs and the heavy rumble of wheels, just as though a stage coach was crossing the Small Courtyard. All of us listened, and in the silence we heard it receding quite distinctly. I at once sent my lady-in-waiting to ascertain who had arrived or departed, four-wheeled coaches being quite unusual nowadays. It seemed just as though the coach had driven out of the Palace gate. The message brought back from the guardroom was that no carriage had entered or left. I told this to those around the table, and the Queen of Roumania, who had taken much interest in omens and folk-lore, seated opposite me, seemed much impressed, and even perturbed."

"Then the noise you heard must have been quite an uncanny one, eh?" asked the Emperor, deeply interested.

"Quite. Two of the women at the table declared that it must have been thunder, and then the conversation proceeded. I, however, confess to your Majesty that I was very much puzzled, and the more so because only two nights ago, while we sat at dinner Friedrich-August and myself en famille, we heard exactly the same sounds again!"

"Really!" laughed the Emperor. "Quite uncanny. I hope, here in Dresden, you are not believing in spooks, as London society believes in them."

"Not at all," said the Princess earnestly. "I don't believe in omens. But, curiously enough, the King told me yesterday that his two old aunts, who formerly lived in our wing of the Palace, had sometimes heard the clatter of horses' hoofs, the jingle of harness, the grinding of the brakes, and the rumbling of heavy carriage wheels."

"H'm!" grunted the Emperor. "I've heard that same story before, Luisa. The departing coach means trouble to the reigning family."

"That is exactly what the King said to me only last evening," answered Luisa frankly. "Does it mean trouble to me, I wonder?"

"Certainly not," I declared. "Your Imperial Highness need not worry for one moment over such things. Nobody nowadays regards such phenomena as presage of evil. There is no doubt some perfectly natural explanation of the sounds. Every old palace, castle, and even private house, has its traditions."

"Quite right, Heltzendorff," laughed the Emperor, "especially in England and Scotland. There they have white ladies, grey ladies, men with heads like stags, lights in windows, the sound of mysterious bells ringing, and all sorts of evil omens. Oh, those dear, superstitious English! How ready they are to take up anything unpractical that may be a pleasant change to the senses."

"Your Majesty does not believe in omens?" I ventured to remark.

"Omens!" he exclaimed, fixing his gaze upon me. "No; none but cowards and old women believe in them." Then, turning to the Princess, he smiled, saying: "If I were you, Luisa, I would give your chief of police orders to question all the servants. Somebody rattled some dishes, perhaps. You say it was during dinner."

But the pretty Crown-Princess was serious, for she said:

"Well, all I can say is that not only did I myself hear, but a dozen others at table also heard the noise of horses, not dishes."

"Ah, Luisa! I see you are a trifle nervous," laughed the Emperor. "Well, as you know, your Royal House of Saxony has lasted from the days of Albert the Courageous in the early fifteenth century, and the Dynasty of the Ravensteins has been prosperous from then until to-day, so don't trouble yourself further. Why, you are really quite pale and unnerved, I see," His Majesty added, for nothing escapes those shrewd, wide-open eyes of his.

Then the Emperor, after acknowledging the salute of Baron Georg von Metzsch, Controller of the Royal Household – a tall, thin, crafty-eyed man, with hair tinged with grey, and wearing a dark blue uniform and many decorations – changed the topic of conversation, and referred to the Saxon Easter custom which that morning had been carried out.

The Kaiser was in particularly merry mood that night. He had gone to Dresden against his inclination, for he had long ago arranged an Easter review on the Tempelhofer Feld, but the visit was, I knew, for the purpose of a consultation in secret with the King of Saxony. A week before, in the Berlin Schloss, I had been sent by the Emperor to obtain a paper from his table in the upstairs study, and in looking for the document in question – one that he had signed and wished to send over to the Reichsamt des Innern (Office of the Interior) – I came across a letter from King George of Saxony, begging the Emperor to visit him, in order to discuss "that matter which is so seriously threatening the honour of our House."

Several times I wondered to what His Majesty of Saxony had referred. That morning Emperor and King had been closeted alone together for fully three hours, and the outcome of the secret conference seemed to have put the All-Highest into a most excellent mood.

He left us, accompanied by Baron von Metzsch and Judicial Councillor Löhlein, and I noticed how both men were talking with the Emperor in an undertone. To my surprise also I saw how Löhlein cast furtive glances towards where I still stood with the Crown-Princess.

A few moments later, however, a smart officer of the Prussian Guard, whom I recognized as Count von Castell Rudenhausen, a well-known figure in the gay life of Berlin, came forward, and, bowing, invited the Princess to waltz.

And a moment later Luisa was smiling at me across the shoulder of her good-looking cavalier.

Suddenly, while waltzing, her magnificent rope of historic matched pearls accidentally caught in the button of a passing officer, the string snapped, and many of the pearls fell rattling upon the polished floor.

In a moment a dozen officers in tight uniforms were groping about to recover them from the feet of the dancers when, during the commotion, I heard the voice of Judicial Councillor Löhlein remark quite loudly:

"Ah! now we can all see who are the Crown-Princess' admirers!"

Luisa flushed instantly in anger and annoyance, but said nothing, whilst her lady-in-waiting in silence took the broken rope of pearls, together with those recovered from the floor, and a few moments later the significant incident ended.

The Saxon Crown-Prince and his wife were at that time a most devoted couple, though all of us knew that the modern ideas Luisa had brought to Dresden from the Hapsburg Court had much shocked old King George and his consort. The Saxon Court was unused to a pretty woman with buoyant spirits rejoicing in life with a capital "L." According to the Court whisperings, trouble had started a few days after marriage, when the King, having given his daughter-in-law a tiara of diamonds, a Royal heirloom, with strict injunctions to wear them just as they were – a style of the seventeenth century – he one evening at the opera saw her wearing the stones re-set in that style known as art nouveau. The King became furious, and ordered them to be set again in their original settings, whereupon Luisa coolly returned the present.

Such was the commencement of the old King's ill-feeling towards her.

The State ball that night was certainly a brilliant one for such a small Court, and next day we all returned to Potsdam, for the Emperor had suddenly cancelled a number of engagements and arranged to pay a visit to Wilhelmshaven, where the Kaiserliche Werft (Imperial Dockyard) contained certain naval secrets he wished to see.

Before we left Dresden, however, I met the Crown-Princess in one of the corridors. It was nine o'clock in the morning. She wore her riding-habit, for, being a splendid horsewoman, she had just come in from her morning canter.

"Well, Count!" she laughed. "So you are leaving us unexpectedly! I shall be coming to pay another visit to Potsdam soon. The Emperor invited me last night. Au revoir!" And after I had bent over her small white hand she waved it merrily and passed the sentry towards her private apartments, wherein she had heard the ghostly coach and four.

Her Imperial Highness paid her promised visit to the Empress at the Neues Palais in July.

At the time of her arrival the Emperor had left suddenly and gone away to Hubertusstock. When anything unusual upset him he always went there. I overheard him the day before his departure shouting to Löhlein as I passed along one of the corridors. The Judicial Councillor seemed to be trying to pacify him, but apparently entirely without avail, for the Emperor is a man not easily convinced.

"You are as sly as all the rest!" I heard the Emperor declare in that shrill, high-pitched tone which always denotes his anger. "I'll hear none of it – no excuses. I want no fawning, no Jew-juggling."

Then, fearing to be discovered, I slipped on past the door.

The next I heard was that the Kaiser had left for that lonely retreat to which he went when he wished to be alone in those periods of crazy impetuosity which periodically seized the Mad Dog of Europe; and, further, that he had taken with him his crafty crony, Löhlein.

During that mysterious absence – when the tinselled world of Potsdam seemed at peace – the good-looking Saxon Crown-Princess arrived.

I was on duty on the railway platform to bow over her hand and to welcome her.

"Ah! Count von Heltzendorff! Well, did I not say that I should not be very long before I returned to Potsdam, eh?" she exclaimed. Then, in a whisper, she said with a merry laugh: "Do you remember those clattering hoofs and my broken rope of pearls? Nothing has happened yet."

"And nothing will," I assured her as, with a courtier's obeisance, I conducted Her Imperial Highness to the Royal carriage, where the Crown-Prince "Willie" was awaiting her, chatting with two officers of the Guard to while away the time.

Three days later an incident occurred which caused me a good deal of thought, and, truth to tell, mystified me considerably.

That somewhat indiscreet journal, the Militär Wochenblatt, had published a statement to the effect that Friedrich-August of Saxony and the handsome Luisa had had a violent quarrel, a fact which caused a great deal of gossip throughout Court circles.

Old Von Donaustauf, who at that time was master of the ceremonies at the Emperor's Court, busied himself by spreading strange scandals regarding the Crown-Princess Luisa. Therefore, in the circumstances, it struck me as strange that Her Highness should have been invited to the puritanical and hypocritical circle at Potsdam.

That afternoon, soon after the guard had been changed, I chanced to be writing in my room, which overlooked the big central courtyard, when I heard the guard suddenly turn out in great commotion, by which I knew that His Majesty had suddenly returned from Hubertusstock.

Ten minutes later my telephone rang, and, passing the sentries, I went by order to His Majesty's study, that chamber of plots and secrets, hung with its faded pale green silk damask, its furniture covered with the same material, and its net curtains at the windows threaded with ribbons of the same shade.

The moment I entered the Emperor's countenance showed me that he was very angry. His low-bowing crony, Löhlein, always a subtle adviser, had returned with him, and stood watching the Emperor as the latter impatiently paced the room.

I saluted, awaiting orders in silence, as was my habit, but so preoccupied was His Majesty that he did not notice my presence, but continued his outburst of furious wrath. "Only see what Von Hoensbroech has reported!" he cried, suddenly halting against one of those big buhl chests of drawers with grey marble tops – heavy pieces of furniture veneered with tortoise-shell in which the Emperor keeps his official papers. "I am being made a laughing-stock – and you know it, Löhlein! It has been said of us that a woman, a whim, or a word will to-day raise any person to high rank in our Empire! That blackguard, Harden, has actually dared to write it in his journal. Well, we shall see. That woman – she shall – "

As the Kaiser uttered those words he suddenly realized that I was present, and hesitated. Next second both his tone and his manner changed.

"Heltzendorff – I – I – wish you to go to Dresden and take a private letter. It will be ready in half an hour. Say nothing to anyone concerning your departure, but report to me here at" – and he glanced at the small bronze clock on the overmantel between two elegant candelabra – "at four o'clock."

As commanded, I reported, but the Kaiser was with the Empress, who, in one of her private apartments, was holding petit cercle, the Princess Luisa being present. Indeed, as I entered that semi-circular salon the Kaiser was standing astride before Luisa's chair laughing gaily with her. Surely none who saw him at that moment would ever have believed that not half an hour before his face had been blanched by anger. He could alter his moods just as he changed his three hundred odd uniforms.

There was something mysterious in the wind – of that I felt absolutely convinced. The atmosphere of that faded green upstairs room was always one of confidential conversations, intimate conferences and secret plots – plots despicable and vile, as has since been proved – against the peace of the world.

The Emperor, noticing that I had entered the Imperial presence, came forward, and I followed him back into the softly-carpeted corridor. Then his action further aroused my curiosity, for he took from the inner pocket of his tunic an envelope of what you in England call "court" size – linen-lined, as are all envelopes used by the Emperor for his private correspondence. I saw it had been sealed in black by his own hand. Then, as he handed it to me, he said:

"Go to Dresden as quickly as possible and obtain a reply to this."

I clicked my heels together, and, saluting, left upon my secret mission to the Saxon Court.

The letter was addressed to Baron Georg von Metzsch at Dresden.

Next day, when I presented it to the tall, thin Controller of the Household, who sat in his small but cosy room in the Royal Palace, I saw that its contents greatly puzzled him.

He wrote a reply, and as Imperial messenger I returned at once to Potsdam, handing it to the Emperor as he strode alone from the Shell Saloon, through which he was passing after dinner.

He took it from my hand without a word. The All-Highest never bestows thanks upon those who obey his orders. It is, indeed, said to-day that Hindenburg has never once, during his whole official career, been verbally thanked by his Imperial Master.

The Emperor, with impatient fingers, tore open the envelope, read its contents, and then smiled contentedly, after which I went to old Von Donaustauf's room, and, tired out by the long journey, smoked a good cigar in his company.

Next day we were all back at the Berlin Schloss – for we never knew from day to day where we might be – Hamburg, Stuttgart, Düsseldorf or Danzig.

During the morning His Majesty inspected the Berlin garrison in the Tempelhofer Feld, and the Princess Luisa rode with him. That same afternoon, while I was busy writing in the long room allotted to me in the Berlin Schloss, Her Imperial Highness, to my surprise, entered, closing the door quietly after her.

"Count von Heltzendorff, you have been on a secret mission to that spy, Von Metzsch, in Dresden, have you not?"

I rose, bowed, and without replying courteously offered her a chair.

"Why do you not admit it?" she asked quickly.

"Princess, if the Emperor gives me orders to preserve secrecy, then it is my duty to obey," I said.

"I know," she answered, and then I realized how upset and nervous she seemed. "But Von Metzsch hates me, and has put about all sorts of scandalous reports concerning me. Ah! Count," she sighed, "you do not know how very unhappy I am – how I am surrounded by enemies!"

These words caused me much surprise, though I had, of course, heard many unsavoury rumours regarding her unhappy position at the Saxon Court.

"I much regret to hear that," I said. "But Your Imperial Highness has also many friends, of whom I hope I may be permitted to number myself."

"Ah! it is extremely good of you to say that – very good. If you are really my friend, then you can help me. You are in a position to watch and discover what is in progress – the reason the Emperor exchanges those constant confidences with Von Metszch, the man who has twisted my husband around his little finger, and who has, with my Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, Frau von Fritsch, already poisoned his mind against me. Ah!" she sighed again, "you have no idea how much I have suffered!"

She seemed on the verge of a nervous crisis, for I saw that in her fine eyes stood the light of unshed tears, and I confess I was much puzzled, for I had certainly believed, up to that moment, that she was on excellent terms with her husband.

"But surely His Highness the Crown-Prince of Saxony does not believe any of those wicked reports?" I said.

"Ah! Then you have heard. Of course, you have. Von Metzsch has taken good care to let the whole world know the lies that he and the Countess Paule Starhemberg have concocted between them. It is cruel!" she declared in a paroxysm of grief. "It is wicked!"

"No, no. Calm yourself, Princess!" I urged sympathetically. "I am at least your friend, and will act as such should occasion arise."

"I thank you," she sighed in relief, and she put out her hand, over which I bent as I took it in friendship.

"Ah!" she exclaimed in a low voice. "I fear I shall require the assistance of a friend very soon. Do you recollect my broken pearls?"