Certain situations can only be judged in a manner suitable to them. If it is true that owing to my entreaties—the entreaties of a desperate woman who found herself isolated, and at the mercy of the man who was still her husband—the Count of Geza Mattachich was at the Côte-d'Azur at the same time as myself, and mixed with my entourage on the footing of a man of honour (as is the custom in the households of princesses), then I beg my readers to agree that my future son-in-law had no fault to find. This statement I think suffices.
Gunther of Holstein showed the count both respect and friendship, and further to prove this he asked him to act as his second in an affair of honour which he was able to arrange. But what was still more unfortunate, Dora, who had apparently some kind of instinct as to the troublesome times in store for her at Berlin, returned her ring to her fiancé and released him from his engagement.
Gunther of Holstein begged Count Mattachich to intercede with me to prevent the rupture, and I consented.
For this kindness I was destined to be basely repaid.
I did not wish to be separated from my daughter before her marriage, and especially to leave her in Vienna at the Coburg Palace. When we were leaving for the Riviera, I had told the assembled servants with tears in my eyes that I should never return there again, and the prince had listened without saying a word to contradict my assertion. I was afraid of the influence of Vienna, where my unfortunate son finally perished, and where owing to his misconduct he was destined to end his days in a horrible manner. A fearful punishment for his faults, and the moral parricide which he committed in disowning his mother. No! at all costs Dora must remain with me.
However, the Duke of Holstein insisted that Dora ought to be introduced to his family and to the Hohenzollerns. He gave me his word of honour to bring her back if I would allow her to go to Berlin for a few days accompanied by her governess. I made this soldier of Berlin swear this, but "vanquished is he who pushes the wheel of the conqueror's chariot," and I let her go.
She did not return. She was kept far away from me. This was the open avowal of the plot of which the melancholy vicissitudes were about to be precipitated.
I only learnt of the marriage of my daughter to Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein from the newspapers, when I was incarcerated in the Doebling Asylum at Vienna. I had just been taken there.
This plot—have I mentioned it?—was one of the vilest of plots—it was a plot which concerned money.
I was not mad, but my enemies thought that I should most certainly become mad in the midst of lunatics. Madness is contagious. My destruction had been determined. For as insane, or passing as such, I should be incapable of managing my own affairs. I should possess no civil rights, and my representatives could do as they pleased with my property. The King was old, and doubtless it would not be long before he "passed over." It was then certain that each of his children would inherit about three thousand millions. Was I to be allowed to inherit such a fortune, which I was sure to surrender into inimical hands, and which would then be squandered?