And now, from a door of the palace, not far distant, came striding
a notable figure, tall and stalwart, in the undress uniform of a
Prussian General. Under his fatigue cap the blond hair was abundant; a
wave of brown beard swept flown upon his breast. The face was full of
intelligence and authority, but at that moment most kindly as his blue
eyes sought the group that stood in the foreground. It was the Crown
Prince of Prussia, destined at length to be the Emperor Friedrich.
The carriage passed on, the Crown Prince walking, with his hand on the
side, while the Princess held her parasol over his head, laughing at
the idea evidently, that so sturdy a soldier needed that kind of a
screen.

The Crown Prince Friedrich was unpopular in those days as too
domestic, standing too much withdrawn from the bustling world, but
there was no failure when the stress came. Only a few weeks passed
before the stout soldier, whom I had seen throwing lilies and
sheltered from the sun by his wife's parasol, was at the head of
a great army corps, crushing the power of France at Worth and
Weissembourg; but the report was that he had said, "I do not like war,
and if I am ever King I shall never make war."

A few weeks after the Potsdam incident I was in the city of Vienna.
One morning, like thunder out of a clear sky, news came of the
outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war. I read the paper, but, not
feeling that the news need interfere with my sight-seeing, went to the
Hofbourg, the old palace, in the heart of the city, of the Imperial
family of Austria. The building is extensive; the streets of the city
at that time running under it here and there in tunnels. I visited
the _Schatz_ Kammer, the treasure-room, and saw men go almost