en quarrelling, he looked so sulky. And
do you remember how ordinary he looked in his top hat and black coat,
just like any cross and bored middle-class husband? There was nothing
royal about him that day except the liveries on the servants, and they
were England's. Yesterday things were very different. He really did
look like the royal prince of a picture book, a real War
Lord,--impressive and glittering with orders flashing in the sun. We
were near enough to see him perfectly. There wasn't much crossness or
boredom about him this time. He was, I am certain, thoroughly enjoying
himself,--unconsciously of course, but with that immense thrilled
enjoyment all leading figures at leading moments must have: Sir
Galahad, humbly glorying in his perfect achievement of negations;
Parsifal, engulfed in an ecstasy of humble gloating over his own
worthiness as he holds up the Grail high above bowed, adoring heads;
Beerbohm Tree--I can't get away from theatrical analogies--coming
before the curtain on his most successful first night, meek with
happiness. Hasn't it run through the ages, this great humility at the
moment of supreme success, this moved self-depreciation of the man who
has pulled it off, the "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us"
attitude,--quite genuine at the moment, and because quite genuine so
extraordinarily moving and impressive? Really one couldn't wonder at
the people. The Empress was there, and a lot of officers and princes
and people, but it was the Emperor alone that we looked at. He came
and stood by himself in front of the others. He was very grave, with a
real look of solemn exaltation. Here was royalty in all its most
impressive trappings, a prince of the fairy-tales, splendidly dressed,
dilated of nostril, flashing of eye, the defender of homes, the leader
to glory, the object of the nation's worship and belief and prayers
since each of its members was a baby, become visible and audible to
thousands who had never seen him before, who had worshipped him by
faith only. It was as though the people were suddenly allowed to look
upon God. There was a profound awe in the hush. I believe if they
hadn't been so tightly packed together they would all have knelt down.

Well, it is easy to stir a mob. One knows how easily one is moved
oneself by the cheapest emotions, by something that catches one on the
sentimental side, on that side of one that through all the years has
still stayed clinging to one's