How I Regained my Liberty and at the Same Time was Declared Sane
As I had not been in good health it seemed advisable for me to take the
waters at some cure. I really needed treatment, and as small thermal
establishments abound in Germany it was not difficult to find a place
suitable to my state of health, where my keepers would have no fear of
a cosmopolitan crowd, and where they could still guard me as an isolated
prisoner.
However, soon after the incident of the letters which had been thrown
into my carriage, I was told that I was to stay at Lindenhof. The
promised cure was abandoned.
Fortunately the doctor who was called in consultation sided with me,
and promised to intervene on my behalf. In the meantime my daily walks
ceased. I even decided not to go out at all, as I was completely misled
by all the stories which were told me, especially by Dr. Pierson.
He rigorously guarded me, although he always treated me with respect.
He knew perfectly well that I was not mad, but he also knew that I was
a very remunerative patient; the idea of losing me was extremely
unpleasant to him. He continued to watch me, but he also tried to
humour me, and he easily persuaded himself that Lindenhof was a really
enchanting place.
Had it not been for his position of Doctor in Lunacy and my jailer, his
visits would not have been disagreeable to me, as they were not lacking
in courtesy.
Dr. Pierson adopted an air of kindness and devotion. He told me, in
tones of real alarm, about certain information which he declared
came from a reliable source, and which he advised me to take into
consideration if I did not wish to grieve him. He said he had heard that
bandits had resolved to attack me suddenly in the forest and rob me of
the jewels which I usually wore. Dr. Pierson did not deny that the count
might have written to me. But he said that the letter which had been
seized by my "lady-in-waiting" was not what I imagined it to be. It
was spurious and very mysterious. It could not be shown me because it
belonged first of all to the Law. I should be well advised to give
up the letter I had kept. It evidently emanated from the gang who had
planned to rob and assassinate me.
Frightened into listening to him and being utterly depressed by my
existence I allowed myself to be convinced. I did not want to go out.
For several days I lived in anguish, oppression and uncertainty. I could
not sleep. When I reflected, I did not know what to think and what to
believe. Suffering upon suffering overwhelmed me. Nobody can conceive
the will-power necessary to preserve a certain amount of lucidity when
one lives for years among lunatics. The haunting terror is such that if
you have not the strength to detach yourself from your surroundings you
must inevitably succumb.
But God permitted me to escape in spirit and to rejoin my hoped-for
rescuer. I ended by pulling myself together and I again asked to go out.
They dared not refuse.
However, I was still somewhat impressed by what I had heard, and I dared
not go as far into the forest as formerly. And if I saw one or more
cyclists I was afraid, although I said nothing.
Had they come to attack me? I wondered. Had they, perhaps, come to
rescue me?
What a power is imagination! The cyclists were only harmless people
quietly going about their business.
My doctor-professor had not forgotten his promise. His intervention
obtained the desired effect, and it was decreed that I should go to
Bad-Elster in Bavaria. This place is in the mountains about a quarter
of an hour's drive from the German frontier. If I escaped Charybdis I
should encounter Scylla!
The country is wild and the spa deserves to attract a cosmopolitan
_clientèle_. But its fame, which is purely German, reassured my jailers.
No one would look for me in this modest Bavarian Wiesbaden. And if,
peradventure, my defender should arrive, he would find all the avenues
to escape well guarded.
In fact, the hotel at which I arrived with my suite of police officials,
male and female, was immediately surrounded, according to the rules of
the profession, by a cordon of sentries and inspectors.
If any unknown or suspicious person approached he was followed,
observed, and promptly identified.
The count took care not to show himself, although, through information
which he had procured at Koswig, he was not slow to learn that I had
left for Bad-Elster.
The police notified nothing out of the way to my keepers. Personally I
was, as usual, neither impatient nor excited. My "lady-in-waiting" could
not deny my affability. But within myself I felt that deliverance was at
hand.
This intuition was promptly confirmed.
One day, when I was playing tennis, I noticed a fat man whose gait, hat
and clothes pronounced him to be an Austrian. His eyes met mine in a
very curious manner, but he saluted me respectfully. I could have sworn
that his look heralded the coming of the count.
I was not deceived.
A little later, when I was coming out of the dining-room of the hotel,
preceded by the doctor attached to my person, and followed by my
"lady-in-waiting," a fair man brushed past me and whispered: "Listen!
Someone is working for you."
I was obliged to lean against the door; I was suddenly incapable of
movement. Fortunately I recovered myself. My two watch-dogs noticed
nothing.
The following day I came down to dinner escorted by the doctor and my
companion. The waiter who usually attended on us was a little late and
was finishing laying the table. Ordinarily he hardly dared look at me,
but I now saw that his eyes were speaking to me. At the same time he
passed and re-passed his hand over the tablecloth. He first made a fold,
and afterwards he arranged and rearranged the linen. I seated myself
and, at the same moment, I carelessly touched the spot the waiter
had seemed to indicate. I heard a crackling of paper underneath the
cloth....
My two keepers were discussing Wagner; they talked on ordinary topics.
They could see me approving their banalities with a gracious smile, and
they redoubled their eloquence. I profited by this to seize and hide the
letter so cleverly placed within my reach between the tablecloth and the
table.
I read the letter--I devoured its contents--as soon as I was alone in my
room. It was from whom I guessed! It announced my approaching liberty.
It gave me explanations of what had been done and what still had to be
done in order to effect my escape from my long torture. I was to answer
in the same way. I could rely on the waiter.
This is how a daily correspondence began between the count and myself.
I very soon knew what measures I should have to take, what attitude to
adopt, what necessary preparations to make, whom to fear and whom to
trust.
The night watchman had been gained over on our side. This brave man,
like the waiter, ran a grave risk. No one will ever know the extent of
the devotion which the frightful persecution to which I was a victim has
evoked and still evokes!
At last I received the eagerly awaited note, which said: "_It will be
to-morrow_."
To-morrow! To-morrow! I had only another day to wait, and then I should
be free.... This was in August, 1904. For seven years I had been in
captivity; I had lived among lunatics, and I had been treated as a
lunatic.
One thought alone froze my blood: the count would, no doubt, make his
appearance. And I remembered that quite recently my "lady-in-waiting"
had shown me a revolver, and coldly warned me that she had orders--from
whom?--to shoot any would-be rescuer.
Never were my prayers more ardent. Then, recovering my serenity and my
confidence, I made all my preparations.
I needed a few hours in which to arrange my papers, destroy letters,
and to sort what I intended to take with me. How was I to do all this
without arousing suspicion?
I decided to say that instead of going out in the afternoon I would
wash my hair. This proceeding, which I often did myself, afforded me
the opportunity of being alone, without the "lady-in-waiting," that
indefatigable spy, being alarmed. The chambermaid arranged everything
that was necessary, and I made a great show of splashing with the
water. But I took good care to keep my hair dry for fear of contracting
rheumatism or neuralgia, which would have considerably diminished the
good condition of health in which it was so necessary for me to be. I
rolled a towel round my head, and I took the necessary measures
without being disturbed. When evening came, rested and refreshed by the
opportune "washing," I went to the theatre with my usual escort.
Of all the plays I have ever seen, none has left me with so slight
remembrance as that with which the little theatre of Bad-Elster regaled
its honest audience that evening. I was lost in thought concerning what
was to follow, and I said to myself:
"Come what may, if life is a game let us play it to the end." When the
performance was over, I returned to my hotel, without letting my secret
agitation be noticed. The doctor and the other follower were amiably
dismissed on the threshold of my room, and my last words added to their
tranquillity:
"We arranged to go to tennis a little earlier to-morrow morning," I
said, "but I feel that I shall have a good night--so let us put off our
party until an hour later."
How could they doubt but that I was wisely going to try and have a long
sleep? Moreover, every evening my clothes and my shoes were taken from
me, and although I was not locked in my room (they had intended this
at first, as on my arrival all the locks had been renewed), the night
watchman had orders not to lose sight of my room, and a cordon of
sentries surrounded the hotel.
But, as I have said, the watchman had been won over to my cause, and as
to the sentries, I should soon see what was going to happen. I was much
more afraid of my "lady-in-waiting," who slept in the room next mine.
She had a keen sense of hearing, and she was always on the alert.
I had in my room my favourite dog, the good and faithful Kiki. What was
I to do with him? How would he take my flight? He barked at a fly! The
hour had indeed arrived, but I saw many harassing obstacles in the way.
I ruminated on all this while the chambermaid finished her duties. At
last I was alone....
I promptly dressed myself in a costume and put on a pair of boots which
I had succeeded in concealing in anticipation of my flight. My packing
was soon completed. All lights were extinguished, and, hardly daring to
breathe, I awaited the signal.
But what signal? I knew nothing. I must listen....
By degrees complete silence reigned in this tranquil corner of Bavaria
after the theatre, as is usual in Germany, closed at 10 o'clock.
Those who partook of late suppers were few. The calm night enveloped
Bad-Elster--a beautiful night with a full moon--one more danger. But I
had no choice, and my vigil was soon about to end.
The twelve strokes of midnight sounded, then the half-hour, then one
o'clock struck, and almost immediately I heard a scratching at my door
like that of a mouse. Kiki raised himself ... but with a sign I quieted
him, and he understood.
I opened the door softly. The shadow of the watchman could be dimly seen
in the corridor.
"Here I am," I said, in a low whisper.
"Silence!... Hold yourself in readiness. I will return when it is time."
He went away.
I remained for two hours absolutely glued to my door, my valise beside
me. At last I saw a glimmer of light. It was the watchman. I turned
to my dog, who was watching me uneasily. He pricked up his ears, and,
sitting on the corner of a cushion in a chair, he understood that I was
going away without him.
I caressed him, saying as I did so: "Kiki, don't make a noise. If you
do, I am lost!"
He did not move, he did not bark, he did not even whine.
I was now beside the watchman at the threshold of the door.
"You must take off your boots," he whispered. "You will be heard."
He stooped down and removed my boots; then, taking charge of my small
baggage, he conducted me forth, leaning on his arm.
With one last look I said good-bye to the familiar things which I had
left in my room, and I again enjoined my good little dog to silence. I
went along the corridor into which the rooms of my "lady-in-waiting"
and the doctor opened. Thank God, the doors remained closed! Another
corridor took us to a staircase by which we gained the ground floor.
There, in almost total obscurity, I perceived a shadow, with one finger
on its lips. It was the count....
The night watchman would not allow us to delay; he gave me back my
boots and guided us, sheltered from the light of the moon by the hotel
building, as far as a small conservatory, and then to a terrace which
adjoined the road.
There two sentries had met and were talking peacefully in the moonlight,
which, unfortunately for us, now illuminated the road to safety.
We waited anxiously. Luckily they soon separated, and walked away in
opposite directions.... The count, taking his chance, made me cross
the road in a few light bounds. He held my valise; the night watchman
remained hidden on the terrace. We were now under the trees on the other
side of the road. The sentries had seen and heard nothing! We had still
to reach the carriage, which was waiting a little distance away.
This was a landau with two horses, a local equipage, which would pass
unnoticed. Any other, unknown to the district, would have been signalled
and reported.
But a catastrophe occurred. The carriage was not where it should have
been. We had a moment of despair. What a night! What suspense! All this
agony of mind occurred under the trees pierced by the moon-rays, which
seemed peopled with fearful phantoms. At last some of our friends
who knew of my escape joined us and conducted us to the carriage. It
started, but the tired horses went slowly. Suddenly, in the middle of
the wood the vehicle came to a standstill; the driver confessed that he
had lost his way.
We had reached a place known as "The Three Stones," the boundaries of
three kingdoms, where Bavaria, Saxony and Austria join.
The driver turned his back on the right direction and returned towards
Bad-Elster, where we hoped to get to the little station and catch a
train for Berlin.
We had the good luck to be rescued from our anxiety by two of our
partisans, who, worried by our non-arrival, came upon us unexpectedly
and opportunely.
We arrived at the Hof without further incident, and a few hours later
we were in the capital of Prussia. When the news of my escape reached my
son-in-law and his Imperial brother-in-law they did not believe it. The
fuss was tremendous. But matters had been well arranged at Bad-Elster.
The brave people there took my part so thoroughly that the German and
Austrian police had actually to go to the expense of making inquiries.
I had vanished into thin air like a spirit, and they could not find a
trace of the count.
In Berlin the secret agents of the Socialist deputy, Doctor Sudekum, who
generously defended my cause, awaited us and sheltered us until a lull
in the tempest enabled us to gain a hospitable soil.
Everything considered, we resolved to go by automobile to the station
where the Orient Express stopped, and then to depart for France across
Belgium by this train _de luxe_.
Let us pass over an alarm at the hotel at Magdeburg, where I should
have been recognised and denounced had I not called Doctor Sudekum
my husband! We seemed very devoted, and it was quite evident that a
celebrated Socialist could not have a king's daughter for his wife.
At last I was able to get into a sleeping compartment, and luckily I had
it to myself. The train rushed across Germany. The count watched over
me and remained outside in the corridor as much as possible. The hours
rolled by. At last I heard cries of "Herbesthal"!
I was just entering Belgium. I was about to see my country once more.
Without, however, daring to stop there! Alas! The King was on the side
of the Prince of Coburg! I hardly dared approach the window. I trembled.
The Belgian Customs officials passed through the carriages. There was a
knock at the door of my compartment, and the Customs officials appeared
behind the conductor. But I had been vouched for, and they retired
unsuspiciously.
Oh, the irony of the banal question: "Have you anything to declare?"
On the contrary, what had I _not_ to declare? I was the eldest daughter
of the great King of these good people who did not recognize me. I
wanted to cry out, so as to be heard as far as the Château of Laeken,
and denounce the injustice of Fate, which made me a victim and an exile.
I was thinking thus when an old superintendent of the Belgian railways
passed. He did not glance carelessly at me as the Customs officials had
done; he scrutinized me gravely, and I saw that he knew at once who I
was.
The count was watching in the corridor, and he was also certain that I
had been recognized. He followed the superintendent. The man looked at
him, read the anxiety in his face, and identifying him, doubtless by the
photographs in the newspapers, stopped and said kindly:
"It is our Princess, is it not?... Do not be afraid. Nobody here will
betray her."
I never knew the name of this good and faithful compatriot. If he is
still alive I hope he will learn through these lines that my gratitude
has often gone out and will always go out to him.
I arrived at last, safe and sound in Paris. I had nothing more to fear.
I was in a hospitable country, protected by just laws.
It is common knowledge that shortly afterwards the most eminent French
physicians recognized, after long interviews, when I was minutely
interrogated and examined, the inanity of the pseudo-medical statements
which had kept me in a lunatic asylum for seven years and caused me to
be treated as a minor, incapable of managing my own affairs. My civil
rights were restored to me; together with my liberty I had miraculously
recovered my reason!
But I found again, alas! during the dreadful war, evidences of the
implacable hatred from which I had suffered so much.
This time my enemies thought me in their power, and behaved in an
odiously grasping manner. It was not now covetousness for the millions
of my inheritance from my father the King, but it was greed for another
fortune, that of the Empress Charlotte, my unfortunate aunt, whose old
age is sheltered by the Château of Boucottes. This fresh possibility of
wealth aroused the same covetousness, and, as of old, it produced the
same line of conduct. But once again I was providentially saved.