The clever intrigues of Frau Kleist were unknown to any outside the
Court circle at Potsdam.
She was indeed a queer personage, "only less of a personality than His
Majesty," as that shiftiest of German statesmen, Prince Buelow, declared
to me one day as we sat together in my room in the Berlin Schloss.
Frau Kleist was the Court dancing-mistress, whose fastidious judgment
had to be satisfied by any young debutante or officer before they
presumed to dance before Royalty at the State balls. Before every ball
Frau Kleist held several dance rehearsals in the Weisser-Saal (White
Salon) at the Berlin Schloss, and she was more exacting than any pompous
General on parade. Perhaps she was seventy. Her real age I never knew.
But, friends that we were, she often chatted with me and deplored the
flat-footedness of the coming generation of Teutons, and more than once
I have seen her lift her skirts and, displaying neat silk-stockinged
ankles on the polished floor of the Weisser-Saal, make, for the benefit
of the would-be debutantes, graceful tiptoe turns with a marvellous
grace of movement.
Truly Frau Kleist, with her neat waist and thin, refined face, was a
very striking figure at the Berlin Court. The intricacies of the minuet
and gavotte, as well as those of the old-world dances in which she
delighted, were taught by the old lady to Prince Joachim and Princess
Victoria Luise, both of whom always went in deadly fear of her caustic
tongue and overbearing manner.
The Emperor never permitted any dancing at Court which was not up to a
high standard of excellence, and all who sought to dance were compelled
to pass before the critical eye of the sharp-tongued old lady in her
stiff silken gown.
Once, I remember, certain young people of the smart set of Berlin sought
to introduce irregularities in the Lancers, but they soon discovered
that their cards were cancelled.
Whence she had come or who had been responsible for her appointment
nobody knew. One thing was quite certain, that though at an age when
usually rheumatism prevents agility, yet she was an expert dancer.
Another thing was also certain, that, if a debutante or a young military
elegant were awkward or flat-footed, she would train them privately in
the Terpsichorean art, especially in the old-world dances which are so
popular at Court, and, accepting a little palm-oil, would then pass
them--after squeezing them sufficiently--as fit to receive the Imperial
command to the Court balls.
The old woman, sharp-featured and angular as became her age, with her
complexion powdered and rouged, lived in considerable style in a fine
house close to the Glienicke Bridge at Potsdam, beneath the Babelsberg,
a power to be reckoned with by all who desired to enter the Court
circle.
Regarding her, many strange stories were afloat. One was that she was an
ex-dancer, the mother of the famous Mademoiselle "Clo-Clo" Durand,
_premiere danseuse_ of the Paris Opera, and another was that she had
been mistress of the ballet at the Imperial Opera in Petrograd in the
days of the Emperor Alexander. But so great a mystery were her
antecedents that nobody knew anything for certain, save that, at the age
of nearly seventy, she had access at any hour to the Kaiser's private
cabinet. I have often seen her whisper to His Majesty strange secrets
which she had picked up here and there--secrets that were often
transferred to certain confidential quarters which control the great
Teuton octopus.
Those at Court who secured the benignant smiles of Frau Kleist knew that
their future path in life would be full of sunshine, but woe betide
those upon whom she knit her brows in disapproval. It was all a question
of bribery. Frau Kleist kept her pretty house and her big Mercedes car
upon the secret money payments she received from those who "for value"
begged her favours. With many young officers the payment to Frau Kleist
was to open the back door to the Emperor's favour.
We in the Neues Palais (New Palace) knew it. But surely it did not
concern us, for all of us looked askance at those who strove so
strenuously and eagerly for "commands" to Court functions, and really we
were secretly glad if the parvenus of both sexes were well bled before
they were permitted by Frau Erna to make their obeisance before Royalty.
The palace world at every European Court is a narrow little world of its
own, unknown and unsuspected by the man in the street. There one sees
the worst side of human nature without any leaven of the best or even
nobler side. The salary-grabber, the military adventurer, the pinchbeck
diplomat, the commercial parvenu, and the scientist, together with their
heavy-jowled, jewel-bedecked women-folk, elbow each other in order to
secure the notice of the All-Highest One, who, in that green-upholstered
private room wherein I worked with him, often smiled at the unseemly
bustle while he calmly discriminated among men and women according to
their merits.
It is in that calm discretion that the Emperor excels, possessing almost
uncanny foresight, combined with a most unscrupulous conscience.
"I know! Frau Kleist has told me!" were the words His Majesty used on
many occasions when I had ventured perhaps to express doubt regarding
some scandalous story or serious allegation. Therefore I was confident,
even though a large section of the entourage doubted it, that the
seventy-year-old dancing-mistress, whose past was a complete mystery,
was an important secret agent of the Emperor's.
And what more likely? The Kaiser, as ruler of that complex empire, would
naturally seek to know the truth concerning those who sought his favour
before they were permitted to click their heels or wag their fans and
bow the knee in his Imperial presence. And he had, no doubt, with that
innate cunning, appointed his creature to the position of Court
dancing-mistress.
The most elegant, corsetted Prussian officer, even though he could dance
divinely, was good-looking and perfectly-groomed, would never be
permitted to enter the Court circle unless a substantial number of marks
were placed within the old woman's palm. It was her perquisite, and many
in that ill-paid entourage envied her her means of increasing her
income.
In no Court in Europe are the purse-strings held so tightly as in that
of Potsdam. The Emperor and Empress, though immensely wealthy, practise
the economy of London suburbia. But at every Court bribery is rife in
order to obtain Royal warrants and dozens of other small favours of that
kind, just as open payment is necessary to-day to obtain titles of
nobility. The colour of gold has a fascination which few can resist. If
it were not so there would be no war in progress to-day.
On October 17th, 1908, I had returned with the Emperor and his suite
from Hamburg, where His Majesty had been present at the launching of one
of Herr Ballin's monster American liners, and at three o'clock, after
the Kaiser had eaten a hurried luncheon, I was seated at the side table
in his private room in the Berlin Schloss, taking down certain
confidential instructions which he wished to be sent at once by one of
the Imperial couriers to the commandant of Posen.
Suddenly Von Kahlberg, my colleague, entered with a message that had
been taken by the telegraphist attached to the Palace, and handed it to
His Majesty.
Having read it, the Kaiser at once grew excited, and, turning to me,
said:
"The Crown-Prince sends word from Potsdam that the American, Orville
Wright, is flying on the Bornstedter Feld. We must go at once. Order the
cars. And, Von Kahlberg, inform Her Majesty at once. She will accompany
us, no doubt."
Quickly I placed before His Majesty one of his photographs--knowing that
it would be wanted for presentation to the daring American--and he took
up his pen and scrawled his signature across it. Afterwards I placed it
in the small, green-painted dispatch-box of steel which I always carried
when in attendance upon His Imperial Majesty.
Within a quarter of an hour three of the powerful cars were on their way
to Potsdam, the Emperor with Herr Anton Reitschel--a high German
official at Constantinople--and Professor Vambery, who happened to be at
the Palace at the time, in the first car; the Kaiserin with her
daughter, Victoria Luise, and the latter's _ober-gouvernante_
(governess), with one of the Court ladies, in the next; while in the
third I rode with Major von Scholl, one of the equerries.
Cheers rose from the crowds as we passed through the Berlin streets, and
the Emperor, full of suppressed excitement at the thought of seeing an
aeroplane flight, constantly saluted as we flew along.
On arrival at the Bornstedter Feld it was already growing dusk, and a
great disappointment awaited us. The Crown-Prince rode up to inform us
gravely that the flying was over for the day. At this the Kaiser grew
angry, for he had been out once before upon a wild-goose chase, only to
find that Orville Wright had gone home, declaring the wind to be too
strong.
At his father's anger, however, "Willie" burst out laughing, declaring
that he was only joking, and that all was in readiness. Indeed, as he
spoke the aviator, in his leather jacket, came up, and I presented him
to His Majesty, while from everywhere soldiers and police appeared, in
order to keep back the crowd to the road.
Then, while we stood alone in the centre of the great, sandy plain, Mr.
Orville Wright clambered into his machine and, rising, made many
circuits high above us.
The Emperor stood with Herr Reitschel and the shaggy old Professor,
straining his eyes with keenest interest. It was the first time His
Majesty had seen an aeroplane in flight. Much had been promised of old
Von Zeppelin's invention, yet the German public had, until those
demonstrations by the American aviator, taken but little heed of the
heavier-than-air machine. At that time, indeed, the Emperor had not
taken up Von Zeppelin, and it was only after seeing Orville Wright's
demonstrations that he entered with any enthusiasm into aeronautical
problems.
High above us against the clear evening sky, wherein the stars had
already begun to twinkle, the daring American rose, dipped, and banked,
his machine droning like a huge gad-fly, much to the interest and
astonishment of the Emperor.
"Marvellous!" he exclaimed, as I stood beside him, with the Empress on
his right. "How is it done?"
The crowds went wild with enthusiasm. The sight of a man flying in the
air, manoeuvring his machine at will, rising swiftly, and then planing
down with the engine cut off, was one of the most amazing spectacles the
loyal Potsdamers had ever seen. Even the Emperor, with all his wild
dreams of world-power, could never for a moment have foreseen what a
great factor aeroplanes would be in the war which he was so carefully
plotting.
At last Wright came down in a spiral, banked slightly, steadied himself,
and then came lightly to earth within a few yards of where we stood,
having been the first to exhibit to the great War-Lord how completely
the air had been conquered.
Then, quiet, rather unassuming man that he was, he advanced to receive
the Imperial congratulations, and to be handed the signed photograph
which, at the proper moment, I produced like a conjurer from my
dispatch-box. Afterwards, though it had now grown dark, the Emperor, by
the powerful headlamps of the three cars, thoroughly examined the
American's aeroplane, the aviator explaining every detail.
From that moment for months afterwards the Kaiser was constantly talking
of aviation. He commanded photographs of various types of aeroplanes,
together with all literature on the subject, to be placed before him.
Indeed, he sent over to Britain, in secret, two officers to attend the
aeroplane meetings held at Doncaster and Blackpool, where a large number
of photographs were secretly taken, and duly found their way to his
table.
Indeed, it would greatly surprise your English friends, my dear Le
Queux, if they had only seen the many secret reports and secret
photographs of all kinds regarding Britain's military, naval, and social
life, which I have found upon the Emperor's table.
During my appointment I had through my hands many amazing reports
concerning the financial and social position of well-known English
politicians and officials, reports made with one ulterior motive--that
of attempted bribery. The Emperor meant war, and he knew that before he
could hope for success he must thoroughly "Germanize" Great
Britain--with what result we all now know.
I have recalled the Emperor's first sight of an aeroplane in flight, in
company with Herr Anton Reitschel and Professor Vambery, because of an
incident which occurred that same day. Just before midnight the Emperor,
seated in his room in the Berlin Schloss, was giving me certain
instructions to be sent to Carlton House Terrace, when the door opened
without any knock of permission, and upon the threshold there stood
that arch-intriguer, Frau Kleist, in her stiff black silk gown, and
wearing a gleaming diamond brooch, the glitter of which was cold as her
own steely eyes.
"Have I Your Majesty's permission to enter?" she asked, in her
high-pitched voice.
"Of course, of course," replied the Emperor, turning in his chair. "Come
in and close the door. It has turned quite cold to-night. Well?" he
asked, looking at her inquiringly.
The Emperor is a man of very few words, except when he tells a story.
The Court dancing-mistress hesitated for a second. Their eyes met, and
in that glance I saw complete understanding.
"May I speak in confidence with Your Majesty?" she asked, advancing into
the room, her stiff, wide skirts rustling. Except the Court ladies she
was the only female at Court whom the sentries stationed at the end of
the corridor allowed to pass to His Majesty's private cabinet.
But Frau Kleist had access everywhere. Her eyes were the eyes of the
Emperor. Many a diplomat, financier, military or naval commander has
been raised to position of favourite because he first secured--by
payment, of course, according to his means--the good graces of the
_ex-ballerina_. And, alas! many a good, honest man has been cast out of
the Potsdam circle into oblivion, and even to death, because of the
poisonous declaration of that smiling, bejewelled old hag.
"Of what do you wish to speak?" inquired the Emperor, who, truth to
tell, was very busy upon a most important matter concerning the building
of new submarines, and was perhaps a little annoyed by the intrusion,
though he did not betray it, so clever was he.
"Of the Reitschel affair," was the old woman's low reply.
At her words the Kaiser frowned slightly, and dismissed me. I bowed
myself out, and closed the door upon the Emperor and his clever female
spy.
That she should have at that late hour come from Potsdam--for, looking
down into the courtyard, I saw the lights of her big Mercedes--showed
that some underhand work was in progress.
Only a week before I had been discussing Anton Reitschel and his
position with my intimate friend, old Von Donaustauf, Master of
Ceremonies, who was supposed to control the ex-dancer, but who in
reality was in a subordinate position to her, because she had the ear of
the Emperor at any hour. Petty jealousies, dastardly plots, and constant
intrigues make up the daily life around the Throne. Half the orders
given in the Emperor's name are issued without his knowledge, and many
an order transmitted to the provinces without his authority.
By handling, as I did, hundreds of those secret reports which reached
the Emperor I had learned much concerning Herr Anton Reitschel, and from
old Von Donaustauf I had also been able to obtain certain missing links
concerning the intrigue.
Reitschel, a burly, round-faced, fair-haired Prussian of quite superior
type, held the position of Chief Director of the German-Ottoman Bank in
Constantinople. His duty for the past three years had been to conciliate
the Sultan and to lend German money to any industrial enterprise in
which any grain of merit could possibly be discovered. He had been
singled out, taken from the Dresdner Bank, and sent to Constantinople by
the Kaiser in order to play Germany's secret game in Turkey--especially
that of the Bagdad Railway--and to combat with German gold Great
Britain's diplomacy with Tewfik Pasha and old Abdul Hamid, in view of
"The Day," which the Emperor had long ago determined should soon dawn.
Was he not the War-Lord? And must not a War-Lord make war?
As old Von Donaustauf had put it, between the whiffs of one of those
exquisite cigarettes, a consignment of the Sultan's own which came from
the Yildiz Kiosk to Potsdam weekly:
"Our Emperor intends that, notwithstanding Britain's policy in the Near
East, Germany shall soon rule from Berlin to Bagdad. Herr Reitschel is
in reality charged with the work of "Germanizing" the Ottoman Empire."
That I already knew by the many secret reports of his which arrived so
constantly from Constantinople, reports which showed quite plainly that
though the great German Embassy, with its huge eagles of stone set at
each end, might have been built for the purpose of impressing the Turks,
yet the shrewd, farseeing Herr Anton, as head of that big financial
corporation, held greater sway at that rickety set of offices known to
us as the Sublime Porte than did his Excellency the Ambassador, with all
his beribboned crowd of underlings.
Truly the game which the Emperor was playing in secret against the other
Powers of Europe was a crooked and desperate one. On the one hand the
Kaiser was making pretence of fair dealing with Great Britain and
France, yet on the other his agent, Herr Reitschel, was ever busy
lending money in all directions, and bribing Turkish officials in order
to secure their favour in Germany's interest.
Yet a further game was being played--one that, in addition to the
Imperial Chancellor, I alone knew--namely, that while the Kaiser was
making pretence of being the best friend of the Sultan Abdul Hamid,
visiting Constantinople and Palestine, building fountains, endowing
institutes, and bestowing his Imperial grace in so many ways, yet he was
also secretly supporting the Young Turk party so as to effect the
Sultan's downfall as part of his sly, Machiavellian policy--a plot
which, as you know, ultimately succeeded, for poor old Abdul the Damned
and his harem were eventually packed off, bag and baggage, to Salonika,
notwithstanding His Majesty's wild entreaty to Berlin for protection.
I happened to be with the Emperor on the Imperial yacht at Tromsoe when
he received by telegram the personal appeal addressed to him from his
miserable dupe, and I well recollect how grimly he smiled as he remarked
to me that it needed no response.
Well, at the period of which I am making the present disclosure, Herr
Anton had been paying a number of flying visits to Berlin, and had had
many private audiences of both Kaiser and Sultan, and had on several
occasions been invited informally to the Imperial luncheon table, a mark
of esteem bestowed by the Kaiser upon those who may at the moment be
serving his interests particularly well.
Suddenly all of us were surprised by the announcement that the Kaiser's
favoured civilian in Turkey had married Mademoiselle Julie de Lagarenne,
daughter of Paul de Lagarenne, son of the great French sugar refiner,
and secretary of the French Embassy at Rome. We heard also that, having
married in Italy, he was bringing his wife to Berlin. Indeed, a week
after that news was spread I met them both in Kranzler's in Unter den
Linden, and there he introduced me to a pretty, dark-haired, vivacious
young Frenchwoman, who spoke German well, and who told me that her
husband had already given in her name for presentation at the next
Court.
That was about a month prior to Orville Wright's flight and the midnight
visit of Frau Kleist to the Emperor.
Truth to tell, the old woman's mention of Herr Reitschel's name caused
me considerable misgivings, because three weeks before I had gathered
certain strange facts from a secret report of a spy who in
Constantinople had been set to watch Herr Reitschel's doings. That spy
was Frau Kleist's son.
The Kaiser trusts nobody. Even his favourites and most intimate cronies
are spied upon, and reports upon those familiar blue papers are
furnished regularly. In view of what I had read in that report from Karl
Kleist, I stood amazed when, at the grand Court a week later, I had
witnessed Herr Reitschel's French wife bow before the Emperor and
Empress and noticed how graciously the Kaiser had smiled upon her. Truly
the Emperor is sphinx-like and imperturbable. Outside the privacy of his
own room, that chamber of cunning plots and fierce revenge, he never
allows his sardonic countenance to betray his inner thoughts, and will
grasp the hand of his most hated enemy with the hearty warmth of
friendship, a Satanic _volte-face_ in which danger and evil lurk always,
a trait inherited to its full degree by the Crown-Prince.
The days that followed Frau Kleist's midnight visit were indeed busy,
eventful days. Certain diplomatic negotiations with Washington had been
unsuccessful; Von Holleben, the Ambassador, had been recalled, and given
an extremely bad half-hour by both Kaiser and Chancellor. In addition,
some wily American journalist had fathomed the amazing duplicity of
Prince Henry's visit to the States and Germany's Press Bureau in
America, while the Yellow Press of New York had published a ghastly
array of facts and figures concerning the latter, together with
facsimile documents, all of which had sent His Majesty half-crazy with
anger.
Nearly three months passed.
Herr Reitschel often came from Constantinople, and frequently brought
his handsome young wife with him, for he was _persona grata_ at Court.
To me this was indeed strange in view of the reports of the ex-opera
dancer's son--who, by the way, lived in Constantinople in the
unsuspicious guise of a carpet-dealer, and unknown to the bank director.
The latter had, assisted by his wife's fortune, inherited from her
grandmother, purchased the Schloss Langenberg, the splendid ancestral
castle and estates of the Princes of Langenberg, situate on a rock
between Ilmenau and Zella, in the beautiful Thuringian Forest, and
acknowledged to be one of the most famous shooting estates in the
Empire. It was not, therefore, surprising that the Emperor, to mark his
favour, should express a desire to shoot capercailzie there--a desire
which, of course, delighted Herr Reitschel, who had only a few days
before been decorated with the Order of the Black Eagle.
One afternoon in mid-autumn the Emperor, accompanied by the Crown-Prince
and myself, together with the suite, arrived by the Imperial train at
the little station of Ilmenau, where, of course, Reitschel and his
pretty wife, with the land-rats, head and under foresters, and all sorts
of civil officials in black coats and white ties bowed low as the
All-Highest stepped from his saloon. The Kaiser was most gracious to his
host and hostess, while the schloss, we found, was almost equal in
beauty and extent to that of Prince Max Egon zu Fuerstenberg at
Donau-Eschingen, which place we always visited once, if not twice, each
year.
The Emperor had complained of a slight cold, and in consequence, just
before we left Berlin, I had been instructed to summon by telegraph a
certain Dr. Vollerthun from Augsburg, who was a perfect stranger to us
all, but who had, I supposed, been recommended to the Emperor by
somebody who, for some consideration, wished to advance him in his
profession.
While the Emperor and his host were out shooting, the Crown-Prince and
several of the suite being of the party, I remained alone in a big,
circular, old-world room in one of the towers of the Castle, where the
long, narrow windows overlooked the forest, dealing with a flood of
important State papers which a courier had brought from Berlin two hours
before. Papers followed us daily wherever we might be, even when
yachting at Cowes or in the Norwegian fjords.
About midday Dr. Vollerthun was ushered in to me--a short, stout,
guttural-speaking man of about sixty, rather bald, and wearing big,
round, gold-rimmed spectacles. I quickly handed him over to the
major-domo. He was a stranger, and no doubt one who sought the Emperor's
favour, therefore as such I took but little interest in him.
About three o'clock that same afternoon, however, a light tap came at
the door, and on looking round, I saw my hostess standing upon the
threshold.
She was quietly but elegantly dressed, presenting the true type of the
smart Parisienne, but in an instant I realized that she was very pale
and agitated. Indeed her voice trembled when she asked permission to
enter.
Since her marriage I had many times chatted with her, for she often came
to the Palace when her husband visited Berlin, as he did so frequently.
I had danced with her; I had taken her in to dinner at various houses
where we met, always finding her a bright and very intellectual
companion.
She quietly closed the door, and, crossing the room with uneven steps,
advanced to the table from which I had risen.
"Count von Heltzendorff!" she exclaimed in a low, strained voice. "I--I
have come to seek your aid because--well, because I'm distracted, and I
know that you are my husband's friend," she exclaimed in French.
"And yours also, Madame," I said earnestly, bowing and pulling forward a
chair for her.
"My husband is out with the Emperor!" she gasped in a curious, unnerved
tone. "And I fear; oh, I fear that we are in great peril--deadly peril
every hour--every moment!"
"Really, Madame, I hardly follow you," I said, standing before the
dark-haired, handsome French girl--for she was little more than a
girl--who had inherited the whole fortune of the biggest sugar refinery
in Europe, the great factory out at St. Denis which supplied nearly
one-sixth of the refined sugar of the world.
"My husband, whom I love devotedly, has done his best in the interests
of his Emperor. You, Count, know--for you are in a position to know--the
real aims of the Kaiser in Turkey. These last six months I have watched,
and have learned the truth! I know how, when the Emperor went to
Constantinople five months ago in pretence of friendship towards the
Sultan, with Professor Vambery as interpreter, he practically compelled
Abdul Hamid to give him, in return for certain financial advances, those
wonderful jewels which the Empress Catherine, wife of Peter the Great,
gave in secret to the Grand Vizier to secure the escape of the Russian
Army across the Pruth. I know how the Emperor seized those wonderful
emeralds, and, carrying them back to Potsdam, has given them to the
Empress. I know, too, how he laughed with my husband at the cleverness
by which he is fooling the too trustful Turks. I----"
"Pardon, Madame," I said, interrupting her, and speaking in French, "but
is it really wise to speak thus of the Emperor's secrets? Your husband
is, I fear, guilty of great indiscretion in mentioning such matters."
"I am his wife, Count, and he conceals little, if anything, from me."