There was another trait in the Grand Duke's character, which, to me, had a peculiar charm: I refer to his ever-ready sympathy and interest in all cases where his influence or help might be of advantage. It goes without saying that neither my brother nor myself ever appealed to this kind interference unless we had thoroughly investigated the case in question. The Grand Duke was aware of this, and his help was always immediately forthcoming, without any needless delays or formalities, and without a trace of the distressing red-tapeism that is elsewhere often responsible for so much mischief and sorrow. One meets with just this same kindness and compassion when one approaches our beloved Emperor. One has only to be absolutely free from all egotistical aims, and to be known as were my two brothers--and once this is so, no appeal to the Imperial sympathy is ever neglected or fruitless. It is, of course, exceedingly difficult to reach His Imperial Majesty, not only because of his exalted position as Emperor, but also by reason of his being overwhelmed by work. He hardly ever limits himself to an eight-hours' day labour. An eight-hours' day would be almost a rest to our Emperor. There is no Trades Union rule for the protection of Kings. But let me return to my kind Grand Duke. Perhaps I may be allowed to quote two incidents that took place a few weeks before his death. There had been brought to my notice a wounded soldier, {250} whose case was particularly tragic. His friends considered nothing so desirable as to have him received in the hospital founded by the Dowager Grand Duchess Constantine, the mother of the Grand Duke. I wrote to His Imperial Highness on the subject, and in the course of the same day received a kind reply, informing me that the matter had been arranged and that the soldier would be at the hospital in a few hours' time. The second incident was concerned with the publication of a book. In all cases where members of the Imperial family are involved, certain formalities have to be observed by our censors--failing which the book may have to be greatly altered, or suppressed. Anyone connected with literary work knows that such alterations are sometimes extremely costly and troublesome. A dear friend of mine, who had very little money to spare, had written a book that was threatened with difficulties of this order. I wrote to the Grand Duke explaining the facts, and here again everything was immediately and satisfactorily arranged. I could give countless other instances, but the above, which I have taken at random, are sufficiently characteristic.