"On a tour of inspection of houses of ill-fame?" interrupted Albert coldly. "This is a mere waste of words," he added, looking towards the door, "and I'm sorry that Your Imperial Highness has the bad taste to take the part of this disobedient, immoral and altogether reprehensible _Lausbub_."

That meant my dismissal. I shudder when I think of the consequences of the King's obstinacy.

CHAPTER XLIII

THE CROWN PRINCESS QUELLS A RIOT

Asked to play the coward, and I refuse--A hostler who would die for a look from me--Hostler marriages in royal houses--Anecdotes and unknown facts concerning royal ladies and their offspring--Refuse police escort and rioters acclaim me--Whole royal family proud of my feat.

DRESDEN, _July 3, 1900_.

Behold Louise, a political personage!

I was driving with my little ones in the _Bois_ yesterday afternoon. We occupied an open court carriage, conspicuous for livery and magnificent horse-flesh, for I love display and the children enjoy it. We were driving along leisurely enough when there was hasty clatter of hoofs and wheels behind. Presently a royal _coupe_ dashed up alongside.

The Tisch stuck her head out:

"Imperial Highness--the town's in revolt.--Socialist riot. They are marching upon the palace.--For the love of G.o.d, return at once. Your Imperial Highness must take a seat in this inconspicuous carriage. We will change to the first _Droschke_ we meet, going through side-streets."

"My dear Baroness," I answered, "it's not in my nature to shirk peril.

If I were to be hanged and quartered and could avoid that unpleasantness by changing from my carriage to a cab--I would be hanged and quartered.

Take the children and return to the palace any way you like.

"As for me, I'll go back as Her Imperial Highness, the Crown Princess of Saxony, and my coachman will drive slowly."

I kissed the children, and the _coupe_ rolled away at a sharp clip.

Calling the coachman by name, I commanded him: "You heard what my Grand Mistress said. Riot or no riot, I am solely responsible for my own safety. You will take orders from no one but me, neither from the mob nor the police."

The coachman lifted his hat respectfully and bowed a submissive "At Your Imperial Highness's orders." The groom, a young, good-looking fellow, struck the broadsword at his side.

"There is some good steel in this, Your Imperial Highness," he said with sparkling eyes. I believe this poor fellow would have died for a single look from me.

Among royal servants, the most devoted are those connected with the _Marstall_. No wonder so many of my sisters born on the steps of the throne, fell in love with their Master of Horse or equerries; some with mere hostlers, like Queen Christina of Spain, the mother of my aunt Isabelle, of amorous memory. Her lover, Munoz, of the Body Guards, was a famous equestrian and two years younger than Christina. He managed horses so well, she thought it would be great fun to boss this giant.

But it ended by the brute lording it over her, the "Catholic Majesty."

By the way, I wonder what became of Christina's and Munoz's several children. While they lived together from 1833 to 1844 without the sanction of either law or church, they were "regularly married" in the end, the hostler, Munoz, metamorphosing into Duke Rianzares. Yet the _Almanach de Gotha_ knows not their progeny when, as "love children,"

they should live long and happily.

Another "hostler-marriage" occurred in the family of the proud Kaiser, the contracting parties being Princess Albrecht of Prussia and a groom, whose name I forget. This Princess, Marianne of the Netherlands, brought the first "real" money into the Hohenzollern family, and her husband, Albrecht, was long regarded the Croesus among German princes.

After the divorce, His Royal Highness forced the ex-wife to marry the hostler, and the bloom of forbidden love having worn off in the meantime, Marianne seldom pa.s.sed a day without being soundly beaten by the plebeian. Maybe she liked it. Some women do.

Today her offspring with Master Fisticuffs are st.u.r.dy farmers in Silesia, but two of the three sons she had with the royal Prince, as well as the sons the royal Prince had with his second wife, Rosalie von Rauch, are degenerates. Rosalie's sons are known as Counts Hohenau and the wife of the elder, Fritz, is giving my astute and pious cousin, the Kaiserin, considerable heart-ache.

Curious, isn't it? The children of the "adulteress" are successful men and women, aids in the progress of the world; those of the blood royal, in double or single doses, a menace to public morality. This much for your royal inbred custom.

But back to Dresden. The order to drive slowly was soon rescinded, for I was burning to see a riot at close range. "_Plein carriere_," I commanded, and my fast _Carrossiers_ went at a tremendous rate for two miles. The moment I saw, in the distance, knots of people standing round or moving in the direction of the palace, I cried: "_Schritt_," and we proceeded as leisurely as if following a funeral.

As we turned around a corner, a detachment of gendarmes, sent to watch for me, hove into sight. Their commanding officer signalled frantically to the coachman to stop, but George had his instructions and proceeded.

The officer spurred his horse and rode up to me, questioning me with his eyes.

"My orders," I explained.

"Then I must escort Your Imperial Highness."

"Don't."

"Strict orders from my superior officer, Your Imperial Highness," and the gendarmes formed a _cordon_ around my carriage.

I was furious. "Send for your commander."

The captain of the gendarmes could not be found at once and joined my cavalcade only when we were opposite a living wall of excited people, nearly all of them workmen.

"What is Your Imperial Highness's pleasure?" asked the captain, bending down from his horse.

"Send your men away instantly."

"But the responsibility?"

"Rests with me and with me only. Send them away. Every one of them."

The mob was watching us. I read suspicion in the eyes of those nearest.

The captain gave the sign and the troopers turned their horses' heads, saluting me with their drawn swords.

"May I act as Your Imperial Highness's out-rider?" asked the captain in a low voice.

"Don't trouble yourself. I command you."

The groom had been watching us. I gave the signal and we proceeded at a pace. The rampart of human bodies swung open and lined the sides of the streets. Someone cried: "Three cheers for the Crown Princess," and everyone responded.

These Socialists, whom I had been taught to hate and despise, behaved in exemplary style. When I dismissed their tyrants, the gendarmes, they immediately took me under their protection. I am sure anyone daring to insult me, or raise a hand against me, would have fared badly at the hands of his fellows.

I was all smiles, bowing right and left. Labor agitators raised their hats to me, mothers offered their children that I might pat their little hand, or lay mine on their head--a veritable triumph!

When I drove into the palace yard, the Guards rushed out to do me honor.

The Queen, the King and Prince George saluted me from the windows of their apartments.

Frederick Augustus embraced me in front of everybody. In short I was made a hero of.

I afterwards learned that as soon as the palace knew of the incipient riot, the King sent word to all members of the royal family, ordering them to stay in their apartments. They were even forbidden to show themselves at the windows overlooking the palace square.

Learning that I had gone driving, mounted grooms were dispatched in all directions to intercept me. The Tisch, being responsible for the royal children, got the fastest team the court commands and started for the _Bois_.

It gave me some satisfaction to observe that I arrived before her. Of course, I never doubted the children's safety.