demented at the spectacle of the gold and jewels heaped up in the
cases. The sight of the splendour, the heaped-up jewels, the
batons, the faded, and sometimes bloody, garments, the trinkets and
decorations, associated with towering personalities of the past,
attuned my spirit for some adventure above the commonplace. As I came
down into the street, narrow and overhung by the confining arch, a
soldier passed me on the run into an open space just beyond, where
instantly a battalion hurried out to stand at present. Then in the
distance I heard galloping of horses and an open carriage rapidly
approached, in which were seated four figures, protected from the
light rain by grey overcoats, wearing the chapeaux which have come
down from Napoleonic times. The carriage passed so near that I was
obliged to press back against the wall to save my feet from the
wheels, and a figure on the back seat, who, for the moment, was within
arm's reach, I recognised as Francis Joseph.

He was then a man in his best years, a strong, sensible if not
impressive face, and a well-knit frame. He had driven in from
Schönbrunn to attend a council meeting, and the day for him was no
doubt a most critical one. War had come. It was only four years after
Königgrätz. His old enemy, Prussia, was about to hurl herself, with
who could tell what allies, against France. What stand should Austria
take? If the Kaiser was agitated, his face did not show it; it was
significant of quiet, cool poise. Excitement was repressed, while good
sense weighed and determined. Few sovereigns have been obliged to face
so often situations of the utmost difficulty. I can believe that with
similar imperturbability Francis Joseph has confronted the series of
perplexities which make up the tangled story of his long career, and
I count it good fortune that I witnessed, in a moment of supreme
embarrassment, the balance and resolution with which the good ruler