PRINCE GEORGE REVEALS TO ME THE DEPTH OF HIS HATRED
A terrible interview--"The devil will come to claim you"--Uncertain
how much the King and Prince George know--I break into the nursery
and stay with my children all day--Prince George insults me in my
own rooms and threatens prison if I disobey him.
PILLNITZ, _May 23, 1901_.
I caught Prince George in the park after laying in wait for him three
long hours.
"Why does Your Royal Highness forbid me to see my children?" I demanded,
every nerve aquiver.
"His Majesty's orders. He thinks you are not fit company for growing
children. You are leading a godless life."
"What does Your Royal Highness mean?"
"What I said. A godless life, such as you entered upon, is an invitation
to the devil. Sins are the devil's envoys. When you are black with sin,
the devil himself will come to claim you."
He dropped his theological lingo and continued: "My fine daughter-in-law
wants to be everybody's lady-love. If she had her sweet will, she would
ruin every young chap in the residence and the surrounding country."
He looked about him and, seeing we were unobserved, eased his bile in
this pretty epigram as rank as a serpent's saliva: "An adulterous wife,
that's what you are. Satan alone knows how many you seduced."
It was more than I could stand and I burst into tears. In moments like
this women always cry, but even if I hadn't felt like doing so, I would
have cried because George hates it.
"Prove to me, prove to the King that you are sorry for what you have
done, return to the path of righteousness, to God, and we will see about
the children," he whispered as he moved away.
"What does he know?" "How much have they found out?" I kept saying to
myself as I withdrew to my lonely apartments.
* * * * *
PILLNITZ, _May 24, 1901_.
No answer to the questions in my last entry. The silent persecution
continues unabated. I am growing desperate.
* * * * *
PILLNITZ, _May 25, 1901_.
This morning at eight-thirty I went to the nursery.
The Baroness tried to speak to me. I held up my hand. "Not a word from
you, or something terrible will happen."
_Fraeulein_ von Schoenberg, who is really a sweet girl, offered some
respectful advice. I begged her to be silent. If the door had been
locked I would have forced it with the dagger I carried in my bosom.
Lucretia came and whispered. "I have decided to stay, and stay I will.
Let them do their worst if they dare," I told her.
I changed the children's _curriculum_. "You can drive every day; you
can't have mother every day. Let's have some games."
I remained in the nursery till all the children were asleep. They
partook of the breakfast, lunch and dinner I ordered for myself. A great
treat for them. We were very happy.
But I waited in vain for interference. Nothing happened to clear the
situation. Those questions were still unanswered when I returned to my
apartments.
I had just sat down to read the evening papers, when Prince George
entered unannounced.
"If ever again you dare disobey my commands"--he shouted without
preliminaries.
I cut him short: "Are the children yours or mine?"
"They belong to Saxony, to the Royal House," he bawled, and poured
forth a torrent of abuse without giving me a chance to put in a word.
"You shall be disciplined to the last extremity. We will imprison you in
some lonely tower, without state or attendants. You shall not see your
children from one year's end to the other."
"Prison for the Crown Princess? Would you dare, Prince George?"
"At the Tower of Nossen rooms are in readiness for your Imperial
Highness," sneered my father-in-law as he walked out.
Nossen! A ruined country-house, flanked by a mediaeval tower in the midst
of swamps. The nearest habitation miles away. Neither railway nor
post-office, neither telegraph nor telephone--just the place to bury one
alive. And I only thirty-one.
Augustus the Physical Strong imprisoned Countess Cosel at Nossen six
months before he sent her to her prison-grave in Stolpen. After Cosel's
departure, another royal mistress was lodged in Nossen, and as she would
neither commit suicide, nor succumb to the fever, they starved her to
death. And it all happened in the eighteenth century.
The word Nossen sent cold shivers down my spine. I am sure I won't sleep
a wink.