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No. 21. Vienna, 27th May 1898. 2nd Year.
As a considerable number of subscriptions has expired at the end of May, those concerned are reminded to effect the renewal in good time, so that no interruption may occur in the delivery of the paper. The Administration.
By O. Erter.
There is a great difference between the ages. It is not exhausted by the lament over the decline of the romantic ideal and the disenchantment of the world. There are romantics still, but they are other than those of former days; and there were always materialists, who were likewise other than those of to-day. The Emperor William II. is a romantic, but how different is his physiognomy from that of the third Otto, or from that of the "last knight"! This imperial romanticism of to-day makes no journeys to Rome and preaches no crusades; it is so thoroughly conscious of its purposes that one might call it — were that not a contradictio in adjecto — realistic romanticism; and while it permits the unstunted unfolding of the whole personality, neither does it prevent the "fair semblance" from enveloping an exacting substance. William II. is the imperial romantic of to-day; he proclaims that the age whose son he is stands under the sign of commerce, and to commerce he opens the Chinese gate; but he goes also to Jerusalem, there to consecrate the Protestant Church of the Redeemer and, like a shining meteor, to spread abroad the renewed splendour of the imperial authority. Of him one may truly say what Wallenstein says of the young Piccolomini, that he "weaves the golden haze of morning about the common plainness of things."
Naturally, were William II. not the strong personality that he is, and were he held less capable of great things than he is held, his journey to Palestine would be regarded by no one in any other light than that of a sumptuously pious spectacle. But this Emperor, who is a soldier from crown to toe and who nevertheless keeps the peace for the sake of his people's welfare, who defends the unapproachableness of the crown with an almost mystical devotion and yet shrewdly avoids every conflict of the crown with the spirit of the people — this Emperor can begin nothing in which some peculiar stroke of genius is not suspected; his words and his acts, despite their realistic content, are lit about by a dazzling romantic radiance. In the project of the journey to Palestine, now moving towards its realisation, this may be perceived with especial distinctness. The Protestant Emperor desires to consecrate in person the church of the Protestants in Jerusalem; in itself this is nothing further than a splendid ecclesiastical demonstration. But in St. Petersburg and in Paris an undisguised uneasiness is felt at it, for this Emperor is not credited with purposeless demonstrations; men are persuaded that he undertakes nothing without far-reaching motives, and they therefore picture this journey to Palestine also as a political reconnoitring expedition, whose true purpose conceals itself behind a great ecclesiastical ceremony.
What is it that is suspected in St. Petersburg, and what is it that is trembled at in Paris? In St. Petersburg men have laboured untiringly for half a century, after the old diplomatic recipe of the "Ote-toi que je m'y mette," to replace the English influence at the Golden Horn by the Russian; and just when they believed themselves to have reached the goal, a third party sat in the coveted place — Germany's influence had displaced the English and had forestalled the Russian. This diplomatic masterpiece, accomplished wholly in silence, was William II.'s most personal work; as the Sultan's guest he had won that monarch's personal and friendly confidence. The Turkish army was made fit for war and capable of victory by German instructors; Turkish integrity had in the German Emperor a powerful advocate; to great German concessionaires was left the building of the Anatolian and Asia Minor railways. Now William II. repeats his visit to the realm of the Padishah, and as the true creator of an independent German Eastern policy he causes by his journey the apprehension in Russia that Germany, "under the sign of commerce," might insinuate itself as a new Eastern power upon the intermediate line between the Russian and the English spheres of interest, from the Levant to the Persian Gulf. Palestine lies upon this line; it is the great historic stage. That is the Russian anxiety. And the French? France is, according to ancient tradition, the protecting power of the Christians of the East; it clings jealously to this tradition, which is a part of its international prestige, and, alarmed from of old by the shrewd,