Some quite innocent tales were told by the tattlers, of the Crown
Princess. One was, that she had determined from the moment of her
engagement to his Imperial Highness, to be the most beautiful and best
dressed royal lady in Europe, as he strongly desired her to be, and
that it almost broke her heart when she began to realize that being
the mother of one baby after another was enlarging her slender waist.
She was supposed to have had a wax model of herself made, soon after
the birth of her first boy: face, hair, and figure all resembling her
own as faithfully as possible. According to the story, she had every
new fashion of hairdressing tried on this model, before deciding to
use it herself, and would have milliners fit it with hats, rather than
choose one to suit her own style merely from seeing it in the mirror.
Gowns were shown to her in the same way when they arrived from Paris
or Vienna, said the gossip who told me the tale, and the first time
the measurements which fitted the figurine proved too small for the
Princess's waist, there were tears.[2]
I did not fall in love with noisy Berlin, though Unter den Linden is
so fine and imposing, with all its beautiful shops and trees. The
city was so neat and square, so stolid and self-respecting that the
capital of Prussia made me think of the Prussian character as I soon
began to judge it. Potsdam I found more interesting because it is old
and historic. We spent a good deal of time in both places, and I used
often to see the Emperor motoring in a yellow car with a very small
Prussian royal standard on it to show who was the owner. The Crown
Prince was always dashing about, too, generally driving himself, very
recklessly, with a cigarette in his mouth, and looking about here and
there, everywhere except where he was going. He had a black imp for a
"mascot" on his automobile, a thing that waved its arms in a way to
frighten horses, though it never seemed to do so. And sometimes the
car would be full of ladies and children and several quite large dogs
that walked over their owners and tried to jump out. The crowds seemed
to like him, and the Crown Princess, whom they called "the sunshine of
Berlin," even more. She was always very gracious, bowing and smiling,
while the Crown Prince looked extremely bored. Still, if he had not
been hailed with enthusiasm, I am sure he would have been vexed.
Sometimes he would appear at a window of the palace, perhaps with one
of the royal children in his arms, pretending not to notice the people
outside gazing at him. But I thought he looked self-conscious, as if he
were doing it all for effect....
What I had heard from the Countess about the Crown Prince going to
India and Egypt in the character of a "glorified spy" (even though
I doubted the assertion) and the intimate talk of our Prince's
"influence" in the Secret Service department, made me think more about
spies and spying in a few months, than I had ever thought in my whole
life. I began to look about for spies, and wonder if any of the much
traveled, cultured people I met were engaged in spying with some of
the highest in the land virtually at their head. The last person I
should have connected with the profession of spying, however, was Herr
Steinhauer. Even now I cannot be sure that he and the famous "master
spy" of whom I have heard so much since I came back to England, are one
and the same; but everything goes to prove that they are....