Germany -- Court and courtiers; William II, German Emperor, 1859-1941
Once at the seaside a faithful forester, a true and loyal German
subject, approached the Court physician, who was in attendance on the
royal children, paddling in the “briny” a short distance away, and
expressed his unmitigated sorrow at the misfortune suffered by the
Imperial Family, in that their only daughter should be so deeply
afflicted.
At the moment one of those healthy spells of _zanking_ happened to take
place between the Princess and her brother.
“Do you hear that?” said the genial doctor. “Can you hear your
deaf-and-dumb Princess talking?” She was indeed talking in tones that
carried to quite a distance. “Go a little nearer and listen.”
The man stopped a short distance away, and drank in the sounds as though
they were heavenly music. The poor afflicted child of his imagination
fled for ever. He turned with his face radiating joy.
“_Gott sei dank!_” he ejaculated. “Now I know it’s not true, but I was
always afraid. People always said she was _taub-stumm_. Now I can tell
them what fools they are. I’ve heard Her Royal Highness with my own
ears.” He departed joyously to spread the glad tidings.
But many people are hard to convince. One dear old lady in Berlin whom I
knew was always making doubtful inquiries of me on this subject, and,
like Thomas, refused to believe.
“Ach, yes!” she would say, “of course you dare not tell me the truth.
You have to _say_ that she is all right.”
“Of course,” I mocked, “it is essential for a deaf-and-dumb person to
have an English teacher, isn’t it--and another one for French? She is
deaf-and-dumb in three languages.”
The lady was still doubtful, and I left her deeply pondering.
After three days we left Donau-Eschingen for Strasburg, a very beautiful
town, disfigured by a terribly ugly modern palace, which the Emperor
calls the “Railway-palace,” as he considers it to be of that hideously
harsh, painful form of architecture we have been accustomed to bear
with, for purely utilitarian purposes. “They built it before my time,”
he hastens to tell every one. “Makes me feel ill every time I see it.”
It was a huge, square gaunt building, surrounded by a palisaded garden,
which contained not a solitary spot where any one could be free from the
attentions of the crowd.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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