I first knew Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein shortly after her marriage with Prince William of Prussia. I saw her later as German Empress at the Court of Berlin.

It was not easy to find favour in her sight; not that she was a malicious woman, but her narrowness of mind and her pretensions to the perfections of German virtues made her no friendly judge of women.

A pessimist and a martinet, she was wholly given up to her domestic duties and her worship of the God of Luther, whom she served with a zeal inimical to other gods, and with such piety that she edified Germany. But she had no conception of the immense pity and the infinite splendour of the true God. Always a sentimental country, Germany thoroughly admired this wife and mother, her husband and their children, who, when seen at a distance, really constituted a magnificent family.

But let us judge the tree by its fruits. There were in this Royal mÉnage no intimate dramas, no moral conflicts; everything seemed to proceed decently and in order. But none of the children born of the union of WilliamII and Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein has deserved any consideration at the hands of men. And in pity for them I will say no more.

I was familiar with the old Court of Berlin, that of WilliamI. I have often seen the old and infirm Empress Augusta, who always appeared to be very tightly corseted, installed on a sofa in the Imperial Salon close to a curtain which was drawn aside, and the Court circle then formed round her. She was invariably kind to me, and spoke to me in excellent French. The Emperor, WilliamI, wandered simply and affably from one person to another.

The Crown Prince Frederick gave me the impression of being good, well read, noble and spiritual, and his wife, the daughter of Queen Victoria, was attractive owing to her candid and pleasant demeanour and her remarkable intelligence.

Count von Bismarck and Marshal von Moltke were the two lions of this unceremonial Court. Being young, I examined both curiously. Count Bismarck was noisy; he spoke loudly, and often indulged in a certain coarse gaiety. Marshal von Moltke said nothing; he seemed embarrassed with it all. But his piercing eyes made up for his lack of words, and for my part I had no desire to offend this sphinx-like person.

With the accession of WilliamII, the patriarchal Court of WilliamI and the Anglo-German but ephemeral Court of Frederick the Noble gave place to a Court of another kind. The ceremonial of official presentations was increased and became more frequent. The new Emperor wished to surround himself with warlike pomp, but the presence of Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein always reduced the most solemn ceremonies of the last Court of Berlin to commonplace grandeur. At this period the Empress had much trouble to gown herself and to dress her hair with taste. Her presence on the throne sufficed to transform it into a bourgeois sofa. Later, her taste in chiffons improved.

When WilliamII came to Vienna he was received with the honours due to his rank. I took especial pains with my toilette in order to do him honour.

Accustomed as I was to his ponderous sallies, I did not expect to hear him say to me in French, which he spoke excellently, even in its boldest gallicisms: "Do you get the style of your coiffure and your gowns in Paris?"

"Sometimes in Paris, but generally in Vienna," I answered. "I represent the fashion, and I design my own dresses."

"You ought to choose Augusta's hats and help her with her gowns. The poor dear always looks shabby."

So this is the reason why the German Empress patronized the same shops which I patronized, and bought dresses which I helped design. The question of hats bristled with difficulties, because she has one of those big heads which are so hard to suit. But I succeeded, it appears, in fulfilling the wish of her husband by rendering this small service to his wife. He thanked me amiably, although he was one of those who never forgive us for benefits received.

The Holsteins, from whom the Empress was descended, had, as one knows, lost their Duchy, which was in former times Danish, and which had fallen into the hands of the Prussians. As a wife for the prince who one day would be WilliamII, Count von Bismarck suggested Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein, who possessed an equable temperament, and whom he judged would balance the flights of fancy peculiar to a young and ardent husband.

This marriage had the merit of uniting the Holsteins to the House of Berlin by other means than by the sword. It regularized, in the eyes of Europe, the somewhat brusque method by which Prussia had annexed the Duchy. The political value of this marriage was well worth the dowry which Augusta certainly lacked.

The tall and fair future Empress was neither pretty nor ugly, but pretty rather than ugly. Her piety was well advertised, but there are pieties which had better be dispensed with if they spring from a false foundation. This was the case as regards the religious zeal of Augusta of Holstein, who when she became Empress began to regard her husband as the Head of the Protestant Church—a man who, lacking eclecticism, talked nonsense about the Roman Church, the Christian religion and Latinity. But he should have been restrained and made to observe the outcome of his Lutheran ramblings, which were mixed with invocations to Wotan and the god Thor.

Another point no less grave was that the Holsteins, who were ruined or nearly so, were obliged to try and replenish their fortunes. Augusta was forced to think of this, and primarily to establish her brother Gunther, who led the life of a German officer of a noble family without having the means to do so. WilliamII arranged matters from time to time, but he did not display much enthusiasm. In no case does money play a greater part than with people who are attached to a Court. Without money nothing is of value, because this class of people are only measured by the money which they spend.

This was not the case with Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein. He possessed intelligence and culture. It has also been said that he was well posted in business matters. He has taken the chair at congresses in the capacity of a man of knowledge, and if during the war he did not particularly distinguish himself as a soldier, he has nevertheless shone as a financier. As a young officer these practical qualities were not apparent. It was necessary for him to make a good marriage. He failed in many attempts at matrimony. Presentable enough as a young man, he did not improve with age. When I saw him at various shooting parties in Thuringia, at the beginning of his career at Court, he was not bad-looking. When Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein asked for my daughter Dora in marriage, and we had given our consent, he asked me to fix the date. I could not help saying:

"What!... Do you seriously contemplate leading my daughter to the altar without having that dreadful nose of yours attended to?"

As a matter of fact he had a red nose of a many-sided, uncertain shape. Everyone is not like the Prince of CondÉ or Cyrano. A misshapen nose is certainly inconvenient.

His sister pressed for his marriage with my daughter. The same idea had struck her at Berlin as that which twenty years earlier had brought the Prince of Coburg to Brussels. The immense fortune of the King of the Belgians was by now undisputed. Calculations were made as to his income, and people talked of a thousand million francs to be divided one day between three heiresses. This aroused ardent speculative ideas, because even in those days one thousand million francs counted as something.

The Duke of Holstein, having improved the appearance of his nose, again spoke of his marriage with my daughter.

Dora was still young. At this time my husband and I had reached the tragic point of an almost definite rupture. I hoped that it would take place quietly. It was not I who let loose all the scandals. It so happened that we had decided to stay away from Vienna for a year. We therefore left for the Riviera. Gunther of Holstein went with us. Thence we went to Paris, where I brought my household. This was looked upon as a crime. People seemed to forget that my husband formed part of my household.

His company, rare as it was, was only irksome to me, and doubtless mine was no more agreeable to him. When difficulties arose between us I found constant consolation in the society of my daughter. Her mother was everything to her; my child was everything to me. At least Dora was mine. Her brother had long left me, so I kept my hold on her. I protected her; I made as much of her as I could. But having now reached the point of the story of my daughter's marriage with a relation of the Hohenzollerns, and the influence which the Court of Berlin was destined to have on Dora's future and on my own, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of portraying in these pages the ideal man of my devotion, who, having secured my moral safety, also gave me a new lease of life.

I will not deny it. According to the ordinary laws of the world, his presence at that time on the Riviera and afterwards in Paris offended all the traditions of ordinary respectable conventions.

Certain situations can only be judged in a manner suitable to them. If it is true that owing to my entreaties—the entreaties of a desperate woman who found herself isolated, and at the mercy of the man who was still her husband—the Count of Geza Mattachich was at the CÔte-d'Azur at the same time as myself, and mixed with my entourage on the footing of a man of honour (as is the custom in the households of princesses), then I beg my readers to agree that my future son-in-law had no fault to find. This statement I think suffices.

Gunther of Holstein showed the count both respect and friendship, and further to prove this he asked him to act as his second in an affair of honour which he was able to arrange. But what was still more unfortunate, Dora, who had apparently some kind of instinct as to the troublesome times in store for her at Berlin, returned her ring to her fiancÉ and released him from his engagement.

Gunther of Holstein begged Count Mattachich to intercede with me to prevent the rupture, and I consented.

For this kindness I was destined to be basely repaid.

I did not wish to be separated from my daughter before her marriage, and especially to leave her in Vienna at the Coburg Palace. When we were leaving for the Riviera, I had told the assembled servants with tears in my eyes that I should never return there again, and the prince had listened without saying a word to contradict my assertion. I was afraid of the influence of Vienna, where my unfortunate son finally perished, and where owing to his misconduct he was destined to end his days in a horrible manner. A fearful punishment for his faults, and the moral parricide which he committed in disowning his mother. No! at all costs Dora must remain with me.

However, the Duke of Holstein insisted that Dora ought to be introduced to his family and to the Hohenzollerns. He gave me his word of honour to bring her back if I would allow her to go to Berlin for a few days accompanied by her governess. I made this soldier of Berlin swear this, but "vanquished is he who pushes the wheel of the conqueror's chariot," and I let her go.

She did not return. She was kept far away from me. This was the open avowal of the plot of which the melancholy vicissitudes were about to be precipitated.

I only learnt of the marriage of my daughter to Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein from the newspapers, when I was incarcerated in the Doebling Asylum at Vienna. I had just been taken there.

This plot—have I mentioned it?—was one of the vilest of plots—it was a plot which concerned money.

I was not mad, but my enemies thought that I should most certainly become mad in the midst of lunatics. Madness is contagious. My destruction had been determined. For as insane, or passing as such, I should be incapable of managing my own affairs. I should possess no civil rights, and my representatives could do as they pleased with my property. The King was old, and doubtless it would not be long before he "passed over." It was then certain that each of his children would inherit about three thousand millions. Was I to be allowed to inherit such a fortune, which I was sure to surrender into inimical hands, and which would then be squandered?

It is not to be wondered that my son, my daughter's husband, perhaps even my daughter herself, who was then a prisoner where WilliamII and his wife ruled, agreed with the wishes of the Prince of Coburg, who was anxious to revenge himself for the bitter feelings which he had inspired in my heart.

Photo: E. Bieber
DUKE GUNTHER OF SCHLESWIG-HOLSTEIN