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.