For the second time in six months former Emperor Charles has failed in an attempt to regain his crown. Forty-eight hours after landing from his aeroplane on Hungarian soil, he is a prisoner in the hands of the government. All that now remains is for the Allied powers to decide on a suitable place of internment this time far from European politics and the incident will be closed. Thus the twentieth century treats an adventure which in its romantic nature, reminds one of such seventeenth century affairs as the Duke of Moamouth's invasion of England. We, it seems, are far from romantic; forty-eight hours is cold-blooded in its brevity.
The speedy and capable manner in which Charles was captured shows that Central Europe has undergone a complete metamorphosis. The saddest of all blows to modern royalty must be the realization that the divine right of kings--once glorious in its supremacy--has vanished so completely even in its last strong-hold. Charles stands alone,--the pathetic symbol of a lost cause. Such is the penalty that men pay for living two centuries after their time.
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