of the Magyars and to help the nationalities to obtain their rights was always in his thoughts, and influenced his judgment on all political questions.  He was the steady representative of the Roumanians, the Slovaks, and other nationalities living in Hungary, and went so far in that respect that he would have treated every question at once from an anti-Magyar point of view without inquiring into it in an objective and expert manner.  These tendencies of his were no secret in Hungary, and the result was a strong reaction among the Magyar magnates, which he again took as purely personal antagonism to himself, and as the years went on existing differences increased automatically, until finally, under the Tisza regime, they led to direct hostility.

The Archduke’s antipathy to party leaders in Hungary was even stronger than that he felt for Tisza, and he showed it particularly to one of the most prominent figures of that time.  I do not know for certain what took place between them; I only know that several years before the catastrophe the gentleman in question was received in audience at the Belvedere, and that the interview came to a very unsatisfactory end.  The Archduke told me that his visitor arrived bringing a whole library with him in order to put forward legal proofs that the Magyar’s standpoint was the right one.  He, the Archduke, snapped his fingers at their laws, and said so.  It came to a violent scene, and the gentleman, pale as death, tottered from the room.

Certain it is that Ministers and other officials rarely waited on the Archduke without beating hearts.  He was capable of flying out at people and terrifying them to such a degree that they lost their heads completely.  He often took their fright to be obstinacy and passive resistance, and it irritated him all the more.

On the other hand, it was extremely easy to get on with him if one knew him well and did not stand in awe of him.  I had many scenes with him and often lost my temper, too; but there was never any lasting ill-feeling.  Once when at Konopischt we had a scene one evening after dinner because, he said, I always worked in opposition to him and rewarded his friendship by treachery.  I broke off the conversation, remarking that, if he could say such things, any further serious conversation would be impossible, and I also stated my intention of leaving the next morning.  We separated without saying good night to each other.  Quite early next morning—­I was still in bed—­he appeared in my room and asked me to forget what he had said the previous evening, that he had not meant it seriously, and thus completely disarmed my still prevailing vexation.

A despiser of men, with his wits sharpened by his own experiences, he never allowed himself to be fooled by servile cringing and flattery.  He listened to people, but how often have I heard him say:  “He is no good; he is a toady.”  Such people never found favour with him, as he always mistrusted them at the outset.  He was protected more than others in such high spheres from the poison of servility that attacks all monarchs.