The audience was in such a high pitch of enthusiasm and sympathy at the end that I mustered courage, amid the storm of applause, to mount the platform again and make a brief appeal that the listeners should not reward our words with mere clapping of hands,—we were not artists hungry for approbation, we were plain champions of a holy cause,—but rather should join our organization; they might come up and sign their names. This invitation was accepted, and by reason of the addresses that evening the membership list of the Turin Peace Union was increased by many and influential names. This Union has also a special section in the Exposition building. The autograph entries in the book that is there are very interesting. Even Arabic and Chinese signatures are among them; also dialogues: some one wrote in French, “I do not believe in it”; some one else wrote underneath, “I pity you with all my heart.” Tolstoi’s son wrote in the register, _Quale è lo scopo della guerra? L’assassinio_—(“What is the object of war? Massacre!”). Our first care after our return to Austria was to organize a meeting to agitate in behalf of the Russian circular. Lieutenant Colonel von Egidy came at my request to address this meeting, which took place in the Ronacher ballroom on the eighteenth of October. It was the first time he had ever spoken in Vienna. Although our Viennese did not fully realize how distinguished he was, they were in a high degree curious about the famous man who had once been an officer of the empire. It was universally known that he had been compelled to leave the military service on account of his convictions as expressed in his pamphlet _Ernste Gedanken_ (“Serious Thoughts”). An acquaintance, Count X., whom I had invited to hear the address, wrote me: I have never read a line by Egidy. But I cannot share your opinion regarding him, for in the first place I cannot endure the Prussians; secondly, if a soldier has done anything so unseemly(!) that he can no longer serve, I am compelled to reject what he says, even were he as wise as Aristotle. Well, now, there are figures in history who have done such unseemly things that they have been compelled not only to doff their uniforms but also to empty the cup of hemlock or die at the stake or on the cross; these would probably have been subjected to a still severer criticism at the hands of my friend the count. An hour beforehand the doors of the hall were thrown open, and the throng which had long been waiting rushed in. The great room was soon packed; people stood in the gallery behind the last seats. Entrance was free, “every one invited,”—such was Egidy’s wish. The representative of the government took his place at the chairman’s table near me. I made a few prefatory remarks; then Egidy stepped forward, and his words rang out like bell tones. It was ever so when this orator spoke,—bronze in his voice, gold in his words, consecration in the room.