TO LIVE UNDER KING'S AND PRINCE GEORGE'S EYE
Abruptly ordered to the royal summer residence—The Vitzthums and Henry take flight—Enmeshed by Prince George's intrigues—Those waiting for a crown have no friends—What I will do when Queen—No wonder Kings of old married only relatives—Interesting facts about relative marriages furnished by scientist.
Loschwitz, May 18, 1901.
All-highest order to proceed to Pillnitz, the royal summer residence, without delay—a command I cannot possibly evade. Conveyed in curt, almost insulting terms—the Tisch's work, no doubt.
It came like lightning out of a blue sky, just when Henry and I had planned some real love-making à la Dresden.
The Vitzthums lost no time taking their leave when the scent of royal disgrace was in the air, and, as if to emphasize the obscene office they had assumed, they spirited Henry away ere we had time even to say goodbye.
What a life I am leading with the ogre of the King's wrath forever hanging over me; Prince George's intrigues, octopus-like, enmeshing me!
Ten years I have been Crown Princess of these realms. Three Princes and a Princess I gave to Saxony. A fifth child is trembling in my womb, yet every atom of happiness that falls to my lot is moulded into a strand of the rope fastening 'round my neck.
I haven't a friend in the world. A most dangerous thing to be on good terms with the heirs to the crown. Makes the temporary incumbent of the bauble nervous, makes him jealous.
When I am Queen, I will have friends in plenty. But then I won't need any. Immense wealth will be at my disposal. I will have offices to distribute, titles, crosses and stars.
Instead of tolerating the serpents now coiling at my fireside ready to spring at a word from their master, I will appoint to court offices persons I love or esteem, at least.
Henry shall be my Chief Equerry; the Tisch will be dismissed in disgrace—no pension.
But I am day-dreaming again. I started out to say that I had no friends. Yet there's Bernhardt? Precisely—as long as I am his mistress.
Marie is dead, Melita expects to be divorced before the end of the year. She will be a Russian Grand-Duchess, and the tedium of petty German court life will know her no longer.
Aside from Lucretia, there isn't a man or woman at the Saxon court whom I can trust, for our high functionaries are only lackeys having a bathroom to themselves. In no other way do they differ from the servants who are allowed one bathroom per twenty-four heads.
But the high aristocracy! Its men and women flatter us to get us into leading strings, try to make us pawns on the political or social chess-board. As a whole, they are a despicable lot.
No wonder kings of old married members of their own family exclusively, even their sisters, in re of which the learned Baron von Reitzenstein told me many interesting details.
He copied especially from Egyptian records, but also from Armenian, Babylonian and Persian, to wit:
Daranavausch married his niece, Phratunga.
His son and successor married his niece Artayanta.
Artaxerxes was also married to a niece of his.
Darius II and Parysatis married their sisters.
Kambyses married two of his sisters.
Artachschasa II married his two daughters; Kobad his daughter Sambyke.
Artaviraf, the founder of a great ancient religion, married no less than seven of his sisters—because "there were no other women worthy of the honor."
According to that, the aristocracy of old must have been as rotten as that of our day.
Lucretia is the only person I trust, and they would have robbed me of her services long ago if my marriage contract did not vest the power of dismissal in me.
Unlike me, she can afford to defy the King's wrath.