The struggle for a royal child, Anna Monica Pia, Duchess of Saxony ; my experiences as governess in the house of the Countess Montignoso during 1906

CHAPTER I Dresden, End of October, 1906

A TEACHER of Princes! I used to think of it as something quite different. And now I myself am going to be a teacher of Princesses! But the halo disappears on closer inspection — even as regards my contract. It is lying before me. Fifty marks a month. One ponders deeply before one signs one's name to a document like that, especially when one will have to descend into the lions' den to rob the lioness of her young, for the money! Moreover, it's an engagement on trial, and at present only for one month. The grand effort will have to be made within the time of probation. If I succeed within those thirty days in proving myself worth my salt by my achievements in Florence — in other words, by bringing the little Princess to the Court in Dresden — who is to say that the headgoverness there will rate my further services at the same high figure as the Chamberlain's Office does, for the special job ? And if I don't succeed, will Othello's occupation be gone or not ? Anyhow, it's an experiment.

Two years have gone by since the notorious Muth-affair, out of which the comic papers made such endless copy. The result of Fraulein Mutli's inefficiency was, as all the world knows, that Anna Monica Pia, Duchess of Saxony, was left with her mother. The Countess Louise of Montignoso. Princess of Tuscany (and as such. Her Imperial Highness), actually succeeded in being allowed to keep her "Monili"

two years longer than had been arranged. 10

But now a fresh crisis is approaching — one of the conditions on which the Countess was to be allowed to see her two elder sons in Munich being, that on December 1, 1906, the Princess Pia Monica should be finally handed over to the Royal Court in Dresden for her future education.

But the Countess Montignoso knew how to make her conditions, too, and so she demanded that the future governess (who was to be selected by the King) should, immediately before the handing over of the Princess, undertake her education in Florence for one month in order that the Countess might have some personal knowledge of her child's teacher; and also in order that the Princess might grow accustomed to this new instructress, so that the transfer from the mother's hands to strange ones (for, after all, the Royal father is a total stranger to the poor little Princess) might not be quite so distressing to her.

The demand seems perfectly reasonable, 11 perfectly sensible, yet maternal cunning has a great deal to say in it! At any rate, the Court agreed, and thereby put into the Countess's hands a fresh weapon wherewith to lengthen out the struggle for the Royal child. And now Destiny has summoned me to assist in this new phase of the conjflict. In the circumstances, it would be somewhat questionably to my advantage that it should be the last! I shall have, indeed, to fight through this phase almost as a duellist. However, one resolution I shall make, if I decide to go: my weapons shall be love, my shield the conscientious fulfilment of my duty; and those are the best arms against malice, cunning, and intrigue, for all of which I must be prepared.

Despite these fine resolutions, the task — regarded from a purely "human" point of view — appears to me a desperately difficult one. I am a woman, too, and a mother

into the bargain, and I feel and think like 12 a woman and a mother. I can understand how terribly grievous it must be to a mother, not only to endure the separation from all her children, but now to have to let her nestling go. The worst of sinners remains no less the mother of her children. That is why I shall need some such firm moral support as a deep sense of duty, if I am to prevail against the mere human temptations which assuredly await me. It's not a pretty task — to go forth to take a mother's baby from her! But I must school myself to realize that so it must be — must be, perchance, for the child's own sake — and that I shall be nothing more than the tool of that necessity. If it were not I, it would be someone else — possibly a second Muth woman, who knows not forbearance. . . . Better it should be I than another like that. Perhaps I shall succeed — if I do succeed in the business — in persuading the mother herself that it is best for her dear little one

to enter the sphere to which she is born 13 before she grows any older; perhaps I shall succeed in consoling that mother for her loss by teaching her the joy of abnegation for her daughter's good. When it is not necessary to wound or to hurt, it should never be done. But my best asset is to be my love for the child, whom from henceforth I think I have a right to shelter with all the sympathy I feel. The child is the treasure for whom all I do shall be done.

Most assuredly it is not the fifty marks a month which attracts me, nor the hope of a position at Court — much coveted, despite its many drawbacks. Rather it is the hope of being able to accomplish a labour of love, to rescue a little, tender soul from a set of conditions which will but become more intolerable with time, and to surround it then with all the innocent joys of a happy childhood. But I mustn't make myself out better than I am. My sentiments are

all right, but they don't overflow; some- 14 times, indeed, they seem to me rather farfetched, although I am quite sincere about them. The Httle weight that turns the scale is doubtless something quite different! I shall come to know, in her intimate, everyday life, the much-loved, much-abused Louise of the Saxon Court! I shall have an opportunity of finding out for myself how it is possible that thousands of Saxon hearts should still cherish an extravagant devotion for this woman — veritable problem as it is of the psychology of a people, of the hysteria of the mob. I shall get to know something of a character which is a problem, too — assuredly not to be judged by any moral pattern : neither that of Court etiquette, nor that of the self-respecting lady, nor yet that of the hypnotized so-called "sympathetic" people. Thus there is simply no actual question of "judging" at all, but only of trying to understand — in the beginning, at any rate. Tout com-

pi'endre, c'est tout Well, whether even so, one will be able to excuse everything, I don't yet know!

Latest Intelligence. — The Countess, during the Munich meeting, declared herself satisfied with the testimonials which were then laid before her, and is ready to engage me, and I — sign my contract!

Odoher 30.

Here are my instructions: I am to start at once for Florence, there to acquaint myself with all details of the system adopted for Princess Monica Pia up to the present, and I am to try as well as I can to make the child accustomed to me. The Countess has promised to decide finally in the course of a month whether she will entrust her permanently to me. It follows naturally, then, that I must try to gain the confidence of the Countess Montignoso — the most diflScult task of all. When the 16 time of probation is over and the Princess has been given up, I am to betake myself with her wherever His Majesty the King Friedrich August of Saxony may command — temporarily to the Castle of Bartenstein, near Crailsheim, to the Countess's brotherin-law, the Prince of Hohenlohe, then to another princely house, and finally to Dresden, when Pia Monica will be educated together with her brothers and sisters. On November 1, I enter upon my duties in Florence. My arrival will be announced to the Countess by wire. My train starts from the Dresden terminus to-day at eleven o'clock; I have a through ticket to Flor-^^ ence in my purse. When I was getting it yesterday the ojQBcial said straight out that he supposed I was the new governess for *' Monica." The Dresdener Rundschau had not failed to announce the fact of my engagement to its readers! The official abounded in exaggerated affirmations of

the innocence of the poor victimized Coun- 2 17 tess, and entrusted me with "a million greetings for Louise from the whole land of Saxony," besides the few millions of letters and post-cards I already had from "Louisa-maniacs." I was already sitting in the train before it occurred to me that at the Chancery Office they had never given me the latest address of the Countess in Florence. I found out afterwards that they didn't know it themselves, but were still using the old address — "Via Benedetto da Faiano" — although since the beginning of October the Countess has been living on Bellosguardo, in the hill-side villa of Montauto. Evidently the system of espionage with which the Dresden Court is supposed to surround the poor Countess isn't very efficient.

October 31.

A day on the road, and that is not exactly pure joy for anyone who is not accustomed to travelling! I intend to do the thirty-hour journey without stopping. My arrival was announced to the Countess for 4.48 in the afternoon of October 31. How will she receive me? Will she see in me only the emissary of her detested Dresden Court, and let me feel it.'* What will the first meeting be like.^ I've had lots of time to picture it all to myself.

I shall arrive. Nobody at the station. So I shall have to go to the German Consulate to ask for the address; so I shall be late. Uppish servants will show me my room. Then I shall be left alone there, to accustom myself to my new surroundings. They will send my meal up to my room (perhaps they will isolate me there as much as possible). Perhaps they will then show me, as a matter of form, how Pia Monica is washed and dressed. Perhaps they will ask me if I can do it properly, and giggle and laugh at me if I make a mistake. . . .

But, above all, the first meeting with the 19

Countess! A lackey will appear, announcing that Frau Grajfin requests that I should be conducted to her room. She will receive Hie coolly, perhaps with some of her renowned realistic expressions. They shall not break down my dignity, as I shall prove by a faultless Court curtsey, showing that I set a value upon forms ; and then I shall make a speech, beginning with "Most gracious Countess," in which I shall say how extraordinarily difhcult my task appears to me; and how hard it must be for the Countess to feel any confidence in me, however good my intentions are; and how resolute I am in my peculiar position, of whose difficulty I am fully conscious, to carry out my duties on one side towards the Court, and on the other to attend to all the most natural demands of the Countess; and so on. . . .

The enthusiasm with which I rehearse my speech gives me a palpitation of the

heart, and just before reaching Munich I 20 hastily practise my Court curtsey in the empty ladies' carriage, whose narrow proportions are somewhat injurious to its perfect execution. Yes, even at night, when the train is slowly creeping up the Brenner behind Innsbruck, my nervousness pursues me, and though I am half asleep, I still keep on polishing-up my speech, until just as we pass the French frontier two ladies get into my carriage, who cannot sleep any more than I can, and with whom I soon find myself carrying on a conversation in French. At Ala I leave the Dresden train for the first time; with a dreary sort of sensation, I get into an Italian second-class carriage. I am agreeably disappointed; it is quite tolerably clean. Verona! The train is travelling through the Lombardy Plains. There are broad orchards, where the vines climb from tree to tree, the green leaves of which are already noticeably tinted with the red and gold of autumn.

Modena! The old University town of

Bologna! The Apennines! Tunnel after tunnel! Splendid picturesque valleys flash by, to be instantly swallowed up by the next tunnel. The landscape grows gradually wooded; and now the clear sun breaks through the grey vault of clouds. I am getting infected by the Italian restlessness. I have a crick in my neck. I keep jumping up and counting my parcels, then sitting down again, and jumping up again, to take the parcels on my lap. . . . And out of sheer nervousness I murmur once more: ''Most gracious Countess" . . . my speech . . . and then stretch up again for my parcels. ... A stop. "Firenze!"

Chapter II

In the midst of the deafening noise at the Florence terminus, in the midst of the pushing and crushing and hurrying to and fro, people must have clearly seen that I was a poor stranded German lady, if only by my way of looking about me — for I am very short-sighted. Therefore, I was not much surprised — although very agreeably so — to hear myself called to loudly as '*Frau Kramer." My name happens to be Kremer, but that's a detail. I went up to the lady who called me — a slender person, with round, rosy cheeks. It happened that on my journey I had read a newspaper report of the meeting at Munich, and it said there that the Countess had been accompanied by a nursery-governess named Haubold. Aha! then this was evidently Fraulein

Haubold, the only person in the entourage 23 of the Countess Montignoso of whom I knew anything whatever, and all I knew of her was that she was probably here now! So I said: "Fraulein Haubold?"

"Oh! na-in,'^ was the answ^er in Swiss- German; "she iss with the Princess. I am the lady's maid of Her Impeerial Highness."

Oh! then she calls herself "Imperial Highness"! Nothing here of her brother Wolfling's fancy for the dropping of titles; she doesn't even seem satisfied with Countess : she likes better to be Princess of Tuscany — Her Imperial Highness!

"Laa-ge-ler!" cried the lady's maid (as in Austria and Switzerland waiting-women are called, though they are mostly ladies). "You don't mind Lagler coming with us in the carriage.^ He is Her Imperial Highness's chauffeur, and is coming from the hospital in Bologna."

Lagler is Swiss, too — a long, meagre,

haggard, sickly-looking creature, who holds

himself very badly. The Countess Mon- 24 tignoso wished originally to go in her automobile to Munich for the meeting with her sons, but she only got as far as Bologna. There something happened to the automobile, and at the same time the chauffeur got eczema, so that both had to be taken to their respective infirmaries, and the Countess had to go on by train with the little Princess and the nursery governess.

I allowed myself and my belongings to be taken whither my guide directed. In the end, we all found ourselves together in the fiacre, after having run the gauntlet of the long line of hotel-omnibuses and other vehicles, not a single driver of which omitted to invite us, with waving hat, seductive smile, and gleaming eye, to be seated therein. But Tonnino was waiting for us — Tonnino, one of the two "Cabbies of the Body-Guard," so to speak, of the Countess. His stand is at the Porta Romana. He had opened his vast umbrella, which is

fastened to the driving-seat, and shelters 25 him from sun and rain alike — ^for the blue sky had disappeared again, and rain was threatening.

Soon began the ascent to Bellosguardo, the highest-lying part of Florence; the highest-lying villa in which, belonging to the Countess Montauto, now houses the Countess Montignoso. It was almost dark when good Tonnino, who ever since the ascent began had been going through desperate exertions, pulled up at the gate of the villa, the high tower of which is the only part visible from the outside. The gate was opened; the carriage rolled in between tall bushes, and stopped before the open hall-door.

I entered. The hall was only dimly lit by a shaded lamp. All I could see in a hasty survey was that a crimson-carpeted staircase on the right leads to the upper storeys. There wasn't a servant to be seen. I stepped back irresolutely to look after my luggage. . . . Just then a slender,

white-robed apparition came down the stairs, leading a little girl by the hand. I felt quite sure of myself this time — it must be Fraulein Haubold and the little Princess! I went up to them and said, very politely: "Fraulein Haubold?''

"Oh, please — no!" the apparition laughed. "I'm Her Imperial Highness herself! How are you? Did you have a comfortable journey, Frau Kramer? And see: I've brought Monili too! Go, Monili; give Frau Kramer your handle, and be sweet and good!"

I was thunderstruck. For this I was not prepared! I tried to excuse myself. A gay laugh disposed of all that, and then I bent down to Little Goldilocks. The small, dainty thing snuggled up to her mother as if frightened, and looked at me nervously out of the corners of her eyes. Of course, for the poor child I was something like the dustman who throws dust in the children's eyes, and takes them away

in his bag!

"Wait a little," I thought; *' we'll soon be good friends."

The Countess rumpled the little Princess's curly hair, and then caught hold of my cloak as if to help me to take it off. I tried to make a protest. . . . What about that Court curtsey.'^ There wasn't much chance for it!

In the meantime the real Fraulein Haubold appeared — a Saxon girl from Bautzen. She greeted me with a curt nod, caught the little Princess by the hand, and said shrilly, and somewhat sharply: "Come with me."

The little thing eagerly followed the girl, the most striking feature of whose face was two deep lines, which went from the nostrils, past the corners of the mouth, almost down to the end of the chin.

In the meantime the Countess, with her indescribable charm, was rendering the difficult situation quite easy for me, and I was intensely grateful to her for making a

joke out of our accidental meeting. She apologized for not being able to offer me a warm bath, but there was very little water up here, she said. The house, indeed, lacked many of the comforts which we prize so much at home. It was a thoroughly bad specimen of an Italian villa, but I must try to make myself as comfortable as the circumstances permitted. Her things would shortly be coming from Salzburg, and then we should be much more homelike. . . . But now she would show me my room, and then send me down some hot water and a cup of tea, and I was to take a good rest, and at half -past seven dinner would be ready. With "Adieu, Frau Kramer, and have a nice rest" — ^lo! she was gone.

Truly, there is not much opportunity for curtseys with her! If I had come hither in a defiant and spiteful spirit, as the trusted emissary of the Royal Court, this kindness would have disarmed me from the first moment. I well understand now how such

a woman can entrap you into loving her, 29 and therefore I must be doubly on my guard, so that she may not make me unfaithful to my trust, and win me over to her side. That would be a new way for her to snap her fingers in the face of the Court!

Towards eight o'clock appeared the pretty housemaid, Gioconda, dressed in white from head to foot, and requested me to come up to dinner. It was served to me alone in the huge dining-room, which hasn't a single curtain or hanging in it, and looks terribly bare.

During the meal I heard continually childish movements in the next room. When I had almost finished, there came the rustling of the Countess's silk linings behind me. I sprang up, and begged permission to see |ny future charge in bed. The Countess led me to her little white cot. She stood at one side, and I went to the other. Monili was not yet asleep. She was much more friendly than before, and gave me her little hand, gazing from me to her mother with her wonderful dark hazel eyes. We talked for a long time across the child's cot, until at last it was time for Monili to go to sleep. First, she had to say a short prayer: "Ich bin klein; mein Herzl ist rein. Soil niemand drin wohnen, als Jesukindl allein!" ("I am little; my heart is pure. No one shall dwell in it but the dear child Jesus. Dear God, keep dear papa, dear mamma, brothers and sisters, and me. Dear, sweet Guardian Angel, guard me!")

What a strange situation! I could hardly restrain my tears. I was here to take this guileless baby from her mother. Should I succeed in winning the little heart, and being a new friend to it in the new life.'' . . . The mother will oppose me there, and fight me in the sweetest and most^ innocent way in the world! Is not the task entirely beyond me ? Are they genuine — ^the mother's sweetness and gaiety .? Isn't she thinking

quite differently in her heart all the time.? 31

Can I possibly seem to her anything except the evil spirit which is to come between herself and her child? Oh, it's hideous to think of! But perhaps it's only that the Countess is sure of victory, and thinks she will be able to dispose of me as easily as of the others, so that her sweetness and gaiety are probably quite genuine. She is simply playing with me, as a cat does with a mouse ; and that's not a very pleasant thought, either! "You can fret me, but you shall not play upon me," as Hamlet says. Now Hamlet was, as all the world knows, no diplomatist; otherwise he would not have been "fretted," or at least he wouldn't have said so. . . . With the comforting thought in my heart that I should manage better than Hamlet, I obeyed the instructions of Her Imperial Highness (for, of course, in her own house she must henceforth be that to me), who closed the first evening's conversation with the words:

"Well, Frau Kramer — ^Frau Kremer — 32 you'll be able to have a decent sleep at last."

It was half -past eight before I was awakened by Fraulein Haubold.

"Her Imperial Highness wishes to know if you have had a good night's rest ? Didn't you hear the carriage this morning? She is gone to early Mass. Ahl" added Fraulein, with a pious, upward glance, "she goes to Mass every morning!"

I should never have suspected the Princess of being so religious. But now I remember — of course, to-day is All Saints'. So I felt obliged to answer: "Well, I hope the good God won't be angry with me if I don't go to Mass to-day. I'm not quite rested yet."

Haubold looked at me distrustfully

and disappeared. I went up to breakfast,

and found my little charge there. She is

truly a lovely creature, this sweet wee Anna 3 33

Monica Pia of mine. She seems to me even prettier than the innumerable photographs of her, which for the most part are somewhat affected-looking, artificial in pose and expression. The great beauty of the little face is the eyes. They are of the most wonderful size and depth of dark colour, their shape is exquisite, and they are expressive beyond anything that I could have dreamed of in so young a child. They are like Mignon's eyes — those mysterious starlike orbs, with their deep dark iris, and the gleams of greenish light. Her curly hair is bright gold. Her skin is flower-like. The little body is elf -like in its dainty grace; yet already, for all its sans gene and its lightness, there is a certain air of pride about the child, as if she knew how important she is and how much depends upon her. It doesn't take one long to recognize the Royalty in her! Possibly, also, the slightly obstinate and defiant look about the rosy

baby mouth enhances this impression. The colouring is of Southern warmth. Even her body is quite dark — not at all the clear pink-and-white of German children. . . .

Little Monica and I will soon be great friends. She showed me her doll's carriage and her dolls — simple, almost common celluloid ones (presents from the Grand- Ducal grandmamma) — her picture-books, her bricks, and all her toys.

Monica speaks good German, but with a slight Austrian accent, like her mother. She has learnt Italian, too, almost entirely from the servants, but very well; and she mixes up her German with scraps of Italian in the funniest, most engaging way.

At lunch-time the Princess cr.me in from Mass and visiting, and sat down to the meal at once. She lunches with Monica, who knows how to manage her knife and fork quite prettily, assisted by Haubold, who stands behind her little chair, cuts up her meat, fastens her napkin, and so on. Afterwards I am served, and then the rest dine 35 in the servants' hall on the ground-floor. Besides Gioconda, Villa Montauto shelters two other women-servants: Severina, the "tweeny," a daughter of the country, like Gioconda, but certainly a somewhat coarser specimen; she is especially for the rough work, and seems fitted for it by her hoarse, croaking voice, which, after all, is not very surprising in such a tall robust person. The principal personage is undoubtedly Frau Rosina, a very pretty young widow. The Princess declares that her face is the pure Roman type; but Rosina comes from Lombardy. She is the cook, and rules her kingdom, as far as I can see, most excellently, with, as the Countess amusingly relates, a full sense of her responsible position. At eight o'clock in the morning she appears in the kitchen and drinks her coffee, which Gioconda must have quite ready for her; then she makes her toilet and goes off, spickand-span, to town to make her purchases.

Towards eleven o'clock she comes back. 36

A boy, whom she engages on the way, always carries her parcels to the kitchen. For no consideration whatever would she dream of carrying even the smallest parcel herself. Then Rosina cooks, and after her meal rests for an hour, then spends the rest of the afternoon out-of-doors, while the maids wash her dishes and peel the potatoes. Towards six o'clock she appears again, cooks the dinner, sweeps in to the Countess between eight and nine, gives in the accounts, and lays the menu for the next day before her. And so ends her day's work.

The hours between two and five are, at Villa Montauto, usually consecrated to repose. At two o'clock little Monica is put to bed, her room is darkened, and, to make her go to sleep quicker, Fraulein Haubold (or "Hede," as the child calls her) must lie down on her bed and go to sleep too! At five o'clock Monica is awakened, and

then she and I have tea together — at least, she drinks three cups of milk with a Uttle tea added. She loves to have a "tiny wee lump of sugar" in it, too. By the time we have finished our meal it is dark, and we go into the nursery to play. . . . Monica was quite friendly, once the ice was broken — she soon began to tease me :

"Do you know, Frau Kremer, who you are.? You are — Moni's governess!" and then she made a face, as if she had said something naughty, such as the "Black Man," or the very reprehensible "God bless us!" But to show me that she didn't believe too much in the "governess" part of it, she ran up to me with outstretched arms and gave me a hearty kiss, upon which I swung her round and round, until her little legs were flying.

Chapter III

All Souls' Day! I was up early enough to-day, but I couldn't make up my mind to go to Mass; it seems to me much more important to make myself thoroughly acquainted with my new duties. As I want to learn all about the personal care of the little Princess, I presented myself in her bedroom at half-past seven, when she has her bath. The business of the morning bath is a very troublesome one, on account of the extremely primitive water arrangements; the housemaid, Severina, has to get up shortly before four to light the fire in the bath-stove, for it takes quite four hours to heat the water in the boiler to the requisite temperature. It seems that Monica has a

veritable passion for taking baths and wash- 39 ing herself generally. They tell me that she knows no greater joy than splashing about in lots of water. She doesn't care whether it's hot or cold; so long as it's water she's satisfied. Her bath is a most meticulous affair. Her whole body is not only sponged and rubbed, but actually brushed I Then comes the cold douche — first on the face, then over the whole body; and it astonishes one freshly every time to see the evident delight with which the little creature lets the cold stream flow all over her, even though her arms get quite blue with the chill. When the bath is over, the teeth are carefully brushed, and the rebellious curls are combed and smoothed. Then we go to the dining-room for morningcoffee. Every morning there is good, strong coffee, buttered toast, and honey, and milk for the child.