delivered by the old ex-chancellor at Friedrichsrueh,
and reproduced in extenso in the press, he declared
among other things that: “The Polish influence
in political affairs increases always in the measure
that some Polish family obtains of more or less influence
at Court. I need not allude here to the role
formerly played by the princely house of Radziwill.
To-day we have exactly the same state of affairs, which
is to be deplored!” Bismarck’s allusion
to the Radziwills was an ungenerous reference to the
romantic attachment of old Emperor William for that
Princess Elize Radziwill, whom he was so determined
to marry that he offered his father to abandon his
rights of succession to the throne on her account.
This King Frederick-William would not permit, and
William was compelled to wed Goethe’s pupil,
Princess Augusta of Saxe-Weimar. A loveless match
in every sense of the word, for he remained until
the day of Princess Elize’s death her most devoted
friend and admirer, seeking her advice in many a difficulty,
to the great annoyance of Prince Bismarck, who detested
her, and after her death the old emperor continued
to show the utmost favor and good-will to the members
of her family in honor of her memory. Of course
this speech of Prince Bismarck created no end of a
sensation throughout the empire, as well as abroad,
the press being encouraged thereby to print in cold
type what had until that time been merely whispered
in official and court circles. It is possible
that the young emperor might have remained indifferent
to popular clamor about the matter, had not two other
incidents occurred about the same time to cool his
liking for the fair Jenny.
In the first place, she felt herself so much encouraged
by the influence which she believed that she exercised
over the emperor, that when during the annual army
manoeuvres Field Marshal Prince George of Saxony,
and other Prussian and foreign royalties were quartered
under her roof, she absolutely declined to hoist either
the German flag, or the Royal Saxon standard, but
insisted upon flying the national colors of Poland
from the flag staff that surmounted the turret of
her chateau. Naturally, Prince George and his
fellow royal guests complained of this breach of etiquette
to the kaiser, and protested strongly against it.
Almost at the same time, her husband, the baron, having
been invited to attend the opening of a provincial
exhibition in the neighboring Empire of Austria, was
so carried away by enthusiasm, due to the kindness
with which the Poles present were treated by Emperor
Francis-Joseph, that forgetting all he owed to Emperor
William, he publicly hailed Francis-Joseph as “sole
sovereign of all Polish hearts,” and as “Poland’s
future king!” About this time too, the empress
paid a couple of rather mysterious visits to her mother-in-law
at Friedrichkron. Court gossip ascribed these
hurried trips to the fact that the empress had been
prompted by her jealousy of the baroness to invoke
the intervention of the strong-minded widow of Frederick
the Noble. But it is far more likely that the
empress visited the Dowager Kaiserin in order that
she should call the attention of her son to the harm
which the association of the name of the baroness
with his own was doing him in a political sense both
at home and abroad.