Es Geloybte Aretz - a Germanwank

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A Jewish cabal organized by Germany. There's no way this won't end well.

(Where is the antisemitic German right during this, anyway?)

It's around, annoying as hell. You'll notice all those Jews in powerful positions have real grievances. However, a central factor in the public proliferation of antisemitic and anti-Slavic political activism in the Wilhelmine era was its open protection by the imperrial government. The various nasties got open support from Wilhelm II, who considered them a vital expression of loyalty and largely agreed with them, too. Tens of thousands os subaltern public officials (many of them valuable multipliers like schoolteachers and police officers) joined their organisations, providing respectability, funding, and a broad base for mass events and media penetration. ATL Albert decided he'd have no truck with this (OTLs version was less decisive, but never had to make the choice as starkly). That means all those loyal little footsoldiers will refrain from voicing their opinions (or even forming them in the first place, given how much this was driven by social pressures to conform) since they displease their ruler. Vocal antisemitism in ATL Germany is very much a reality, there is even an antisemitic party. But by and large, it is felt that it's somewhat distasteful, an Austrian thing. I could well envision a guards officer telling a young ensign something along the lines of "Don't rag on the Yids too hard. They can't help being unmilitary and cowardly, it's their blood. They make great bankers, though, so be grateful we have them." The more concerted activism of the Ullstein press is also playing its part, painting Jews as deplorable victims of evil Russian oppression even to those who still consider them Other. A lot of German rioght-wing racists who would violently disagree with considering a jew their equal ATL believe that Jews are sad, depülorable people, reasonably civilised folk whom the nasty barbaric Slaves like to beat up on. Perhaps the closest you can come to that mindset is the Anglo-Indian view of the urban Hindu Babu as the mainstay of colonial administration, civilised and useful, but annoyingly politicised and forever in need of protection from more backwards martial races.

Meanwhile, without the Selbstregierung Germany's political scene is a lot more active as various groups hope to influence policy rather than just public opinion. The Centralverein is as vocal and influential as the Schutzbund, frex. And both Wilhelm III and Albert were sticklers for legal rights, with nasty memories of Bismarck (whom Albert strongly disliked) lingering. And a Reichstag much more conscious of its power (it has been allowed to suggest ministerial appointments and chancellors, and Albert rarely used his power in the Bundestag to bully it) means that liberal political parties feel more equal to conservative Kartellparteien. Your position on antisemitism is as much a marker of political identity in this Germany as your position on Civil Rights was in 1960s America.
 
Well looks like the Czar will have his hands full:(. Furthermore it looks like that annoying little priest has been killed in a back alley fire fight. I also find it extremely foreboading that Finnish troops are getting involved in Russia proper. I really do not think that Willi knows what fire he is playing with.
 
In the light of OTL events - well :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

For ATL's antisemitism poster child, see here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_Lueger

Karl Lueger (was there ever a politician more aptly named), OTL and ATL mayor of Vienna and most prominent antisemitic politician outside of Russia, now that Boulanger is dead.

Interestingly, there is widespread support for enlightened authoritarianism among ATL's German Jews because the goivernment has, by and large, tried to do right by them while democratically elected politicians all over the continent are spewing hate to pander to the masses. Some Jews are Social Democrats or radical Liberals (both parties with a secular, full-equality agenda), but the majority of German haskilim are staunch patriots and monarchists.
 
Lueger wasn't that bad, nothing in comparison to the Deutschnationalen and others further to the right. There was an incident, when someone asked him how he, as an upright Antisemite, could regularly play chess with a Jew. (IIRC it was a Jewish schoolmaster, according to family legend my great-great-grandfather) His answer was: Wer a Jud ist, bestimm immer noch I! (I decide who's a Jew)
 
1905 Descensus ad Inferos

06 January 1905, Warsaw

Hershel Kanitzky liked Warsaw. He came through the town a lot on his travels through Poland, and he had always had a soft spot for for its modern, vibrant atmosphere, its dolls'-house prettiness and cultural scene. Today, though, the place took its breath away. At the bneginning of his stopover, he had wondered about the meaningless exhortation painted on house walls: “Patriotic Policemen!”. Later, as he walked away from the main thoroughfares, he learned the full text: “Patriotic policemen are blind, deaf, and mute!” Given the massive amount of illegal activity on display, they seemed to be. Polish constables walked idly by as houses displayed a riot of white and red, posters and handbills proclaimed a general strike, and young men sang patriotic songs in impromptu gatherings. The cynic in Hershel wondered how long they could keep it up, and what they would do once they tired of it. Still, the sight of the city in open, brazen revolt was stirring. Near the general post office, he spotted a group of gendarmerie, visibly nervous and clinging together tightly. The train station was guarded by apprehensive soldiers – Russians, from the look of it – but either there were not enough of them to check the passengers individually, or they had decided not to antagonise people. Hershel had even passed through without as much as a casual insult despite his visibly Jewish clothing. He wondered where the cossack cavalry was. There was a regiment stationed near the city, and they had often patrolled the streets, but today, they seemed to have melted away. It was hardly fair to the infantry pickets posted outside important buildings, for one thing.

As he approached his lodgings, the picture changed somewhat. The Wielkopolski barracks were locked down, the soldiers looking out from behind strong fences and walls at the people pointed ignoring their existence. In the less affluent side streets, grim-looking men in leather jackets and double-breasted greatcoats gathered on corners. Some of them openly carried rifles, wherever those had come from, and Hershel was almost certain the deep pockets of the leather-jacketed fellows also held unpleasant surprises for any gendarme that got too interested. There had been a demonstration three days ago, he was told, and the troops had not dared break it up. Of course, Hwershel suspected that this was less a matter of cowardice than the failure to communicate or formulate clear orders that seemed to characterise the Russian Empire. Still, the people were in a festive mood – except, it seemed, for the Russians. And that was a sight: Russians ducking around corners, changing the side of the street when knots of Polish men came along, and generally trying to be inconspicuous. As a Jew, Hershel was familiar enough with the behaviour. It was what kept you alive in tense times. He had just never expected to see it in others. “Well,” he thought to himself, “that's what a pogrom brewing up feels like. See how you like it.”
A big man in the thick greatcoat that seemed to be the informal uniform of Polish franc-tireurs stepped up to him. For a brief moment, Hershel felt panic rise. Then, a bottle was pressed into his hands. “Drink, Zydki!”, the man shouted. He seemed to have done a bit of that himself. “Celebrate! Poland is free today. I am free, you are free!” The vodka was rough, probably the product of some rural distillery, legal or not. The aftertaste was sweet, though. Kanitzky had never thought the unrest to be anything but a nuisance for his work. Travel had become harder, and he had stopped bringing over papers. The way the Polish rebels looked at him gave him pause, though. They did not seem to actively dislike him. In fact, they seemed downright fond of him. Of course that could change in a heartbeat if things turned sour, but being some revolutionary's Zydki – little Jew – was better than the treatment he was accustomed to from Russian officials. If you could manage to stay on their good side, things might not turn out too bad.
 
16 January 1905, Berlin

The Berlin art scene has acquired considerably greater charm and interest with the growing patronage of Emperor Wilhelm III. This was visible today again at the opening of an exhibition of young German exponents of the Munich liberé movement. Works of the highest artistic virtue were on display at the newly opened Galerie Cassirer, supported by the generosity of Oskar Tietz, a friend of his Majesty, along with daring architectural designs and, it must be said, some items that appear more designed to produce controversy than to elicit admiration or raise the spirit. Though the visitors from Munich apperared uncomfortable in the less congenial climate of the northern capital, they found ready admirers in many quarters both for their art and their famously pagan joie de vivre.

...

On the margins of the exhibition, the emperor himself was seen in animated conversation with artist and writer Fanny Gräfin zu Reventlow, a young lady who joined the Munich circle under the most scandalous of circumstances. Her own graphic work is, in the opinion of your correspondent, undistinguished, though her writing enjoys some popularity for her fine sense of irony. What royal attention may mean for the further career of this most un-Prussian of Prussian noblewomen, your correspondent dares not speculate.
(Die Jugend)

... And you must know of this – the most embarrassing thing you could possibly imagine. You know I was invited to the vernissage of the Cassirer exhibition where Kandinsky made such a splash. It was a rather boring thing, alogether, though Lessing held a wonderful speech to open it, and I have to tell you I was so bored and so exasperated with the Berliners, they are such horrible prigs. Then I spoke to a young man who had said the most ridiculous things about some of the pictures, the count of Ravensberg, can you imagine? I did not think, I do not know what came over me, how I could not recognise him, though he was out of uniform, of course. And still, I see his profile every day, if not as often as I wish, and it must have been some form of blindness, what else could it have been? And arguing, we were actually arguing about the virtues of this art he prefers. His taste is not bad, for Berlin, not anywhere as philistine as most Prussians are, but he has a liking for such coldness, such hard, rectangular, technical lines that are all masculine and military, all mathematics and no soul. Surely I expect they will haul me away to the fortress soon, but oh, what a lovely argument we had! And he is smart, that at least I can tell you, a smart and soulful boy, really. It makes you want to take him away from all the soldiers and officials that surround him, make him see the wider world, but ah, no, that cannot be. And then, once I understood who he was and felt so sure I would never be able to set foot in Berlin again, I was about to pack my bags and leave early. You cannot guess what happened then. A footman from the palace - oh, what a ridiculous uniform the wear! - delivered a letter from the Count of Ravensberg. He signed himself that, Wilhelm Graf zu Ravensberg, and he has asked me to meet him for tea, on Friday. I shall have to find lodgings for longer, but what a moment! You would not know me if you saw me today, I am breaking out in cold sweat, worrying like a debutante. But do not fear, this Prussian ogre will not eat me alive. I have said before that I shall be my own woman, and I will not knuckle under for the sake of some palace protocol. But I am so curious to know what he will want. It was such a charming conversation we had, though I doubt he saw it the same way. ...
(letter by Fanny zu Reventlow, 17 January 1905)
 
24 January 1905

MASSACRE IN ST PETERSBURG!

Demonstrators Demand Freedom for Prisoners. Hundreds Dead.

The streets of St Petersburg today run red with the blood of innocents as soldiers opened fire on tens of thousands of men come to protest the arrest of the Putilov factory workers' leaders in the St Peter and Paul fortress. The number of victioms is as yet unknown, but it is believed that several hundred have died and thousands more are injured.
Yesterday morning, at the instigation of the Assembly of Factory Workers and, it is claimed, the Socialist Party, working men of St Petersburg assembled peacably to petition for the release of the surviving leaders of the Putilov factory strike, held at St Peter and Paul fortress. Carrying crosses and icons and praying along the way, they hoped to move the government to mercy. Yet, betrayed by the clergy that misled them and the monarch who purports to rule Russia for its good, they were abandoned to the bullets of the Czar's Finnish regiments and the the sabres of his cossacks. At 11:30, the first demonstration arrived at the St Peter and Paul fortress to find the street closed by a cordon of riflemen. As men bared their breasts, imploring the soldiers not to shoot their fellow compatriots, cavalry closed the street, driving the crowds forward against the troops who opened fire into the mass of bodies. Another column of protesters was attacked by the guards dragoons on its way to the Winter Palace, a third fired on by infantry before cossack horse sabered the fleeing survivors. As evening settled on the city, the toll of these horrors is yet unknown, and no word has emerged from the palace how the Czar seeks to defend this outrage. As all humanity clamours for an end to the inhuman despotism that crushes the Russian people, the people of France in particular must demand of their government an account of this strange alliance that binds us to a common fate with a ruler whose hands are red with the blood of his own subjects.
(L'Aurore)
 
Seems that France and Russia are alienating themselves. And the emperor gets a very liberal and modern mistress - hopefully she gets some influence on him. Nice. Keep up the good work!

In any case, it seems that the Polish uprising could have a decent chance of succeeding. With Russia preoccupied with an internal revolt and the war in the East still ongoing (?), the tsar might have to let them go. It will be interesting to see how Austria-Hungary reacts to the Polish revolt and a possible Polish state. Will the Germans propose a Hapsburg king of a free Poland against secession of Galicia?
 
Seems that France and Russia are alienating themselves. And the emperor gets a very liberal and modern mistress - hopefully she gets some influence on him. Nice. Keep up the good work!

Not quite yet - l'Aurore is an opposition paper. But the relationship has always been a rocky one.

I'm afraid Fanny zu Reventlow is not very a modernising influence, though. She'll do wonders for Wilhelm's emotional stability (and with the shit coming his way, he'll need it).


In any case, it seems that the Polish uprising could have a decent chance of succeeding. With Russia preoccupied with an internal revolt and the war in the East still ongoing (?), the tsar might have to let them go. It will be interesting to see how Austria-Hungary reacts to the Polish revolt and a possible Polish state. Will the Germans propose a Hapsburg king of a free Poland against secession of Galicia?

Very interesting idea that, thanks! I wonder if the Austro-Hungarian government would go along with it.
 
I like this TL. Subscribed!
And the title is intriguing....:)
I know my comments here are very late but...

The new vessels were exhilarating, especially compared to the ageing Cormoran and Condor that had accompanied the Emperor on his grand tour. SMS Reval and Wismar were already at sea, and the launch of SMS Hamburg and Rostock were to follow soon.

Tiny nitpick although a bit late.
"Reval" is another name for Talinn, Estonia. Given that the Baltic states are part of the Russian Empire I don´t think the German navy would use that name.
Might complicate relations with Russia too.

Another thing I wonder: is the Anglo-Japanese alliance build ITTL? Because in this case it would be in the German interest to court the Japanese as well, as a counterweight to the Russians in the East. Maybe the Germans offer military assistance for the Japanese army, which could pay out in a future Russo-Japanese war? Bismarck tried to bind Britain indirectly to Germany - a German-Japanese alliance would do the same. ITTL Wilhelm II should like that.

If I remember correctly the Japanese got German military assistance for their army in OTL. They tried to learn from the "best". Navy modeled on the Royal Navy, army assisted by Germany.

Plus they bought quite a bit of other goods.
Remember Fukushima owned by Tepco? And the scarcity afterwards in some regions with electricity? It´s a remain from a century ago. Tepco back then bought Siemens and AEG equipment. Other electricity companies American equipment. Two different electrical norms. Meaning that they can transfer electricity from one net into another only at special points.

Unfortunately, the colonial charter is just Wilhelm being naive. ATL's German colonies (except Kiautschou) are run through chartered companies, and their record in treating natives is anything but stellar. Cameroon is worst because it is most profitable, and thus can afford the machinery of repression. Südwest is struggling to get its settler state going, but its handling of the Namas is extremely ruthless. Ostafrika and Togo are pretty much broke and can't afford to oppress people much, but the atrocities of the Maji Maji rising are remembered well there. It's just that the Emperor has no oidea these things are happening. He meets happy, dancing negroes at hagenbeck and an elite of coopted chiefs at his fake Berlin durbar, and he thinks that is his African empire.

Are you sure?
Just looked it up (Internet search and a history book "Colonial Empires since the 18th century") and both disagree?
Although Bismarck tried the approach with chartered companies in OTL it didn´t work. They never got enough capital from investors to really run the territories. Not to mention that none of them were profitable which is why they didn´t get capital. The chartered companies were (almost) broke so Germany was pretty much forced to take them over one after the other. Although with the chartered companies still privileged.
- Cameroon and Togo were administrated by the German government almost from the beginning (around 1885)
- German South West Africa (Südwest") follows 1888
- German East Africa in 1890
. Only the Pacific territories were run by chartered companies till 1899.

Your TL begins in 1888 so most of it had already happened.
Except:
- the Maji Maji rising happened in 1905/1906 in OTL. When you wrote this post we were in 1903 so how can they remember it?

And with the German government already involved I would assume that this Wilhelm - being a nerd and all - would almost certainly ask for a summary / review. And given the Congo situation, with special attention to problems.
 
It's around, annoying as hell. You'll notice all those Jews in powerful positions have real grievances. However, a central factor in the public proliferation of antisemitic and anti-Slavic political activism in the Wilhelmine era was its open protection by the imperrial government. The various nasties got open support from Wilhelm II, who considered them a vital expression of loyalty and largely agreed with them, too. Tens of thousands os subaltern public officials (many of them valuable multipliers like schoolteachers and police officers) joined their organisations, providing respectability, funding, and a broad base for mass events and media penetration. ATL Albert decided he'd have no truck with this (OTLs version was less decisive, but never had to make the choice as starkly). That means all those loyal little footsoldiers will refrain from voicing their opinions (or even forming them in the first place, given how much this was driven by social pressures to conform) since they displease their ruler. Vocal antisemitism in ATL Germany is very much a reality, there is even an antisemitic party. But by and large, it is felt that it's somewhat distasteful, an Austrian thing. I could well envision a guards officer telling a young ensign something along the lines of "Don't rag on the Yids too hard. They can't help being unmilitary and cowardly, it's their blood. They make great bankers, though, so be grateful we have them." The more concerted activism of the Ullstein press is also playing its part, painting Jews as deplorable victims of evil Russian oppression even to those who still consider them Other. A lot of German rioght-wing racists who would violently disagree with considering a jew their equal ATL believe that Jews are sad, depülorable people, reasonably civilised folk whom the nasty barbaric Slaves like to beat up on. Perhaps the closest you can come to that mindset is the Anglo-Indian view of the urban Hindu Babu as the mainstay of colonial administration, civilised and useful, but annoyingly politicised and forever in need of protection from more backwards martial races.

Meanwhile, without the Selbstregierung Germany's political scene is a lot more active as various groups hope to influence policy rather than just public opinion. The Centralverein is as vocal and influential as the Schutzbund, frex. And both Wilhelm III and Albert were sticklers for legal rights, with nasty memories of Bismarck (whom Albert strongly disliked) lingering. And a Reichstag much more conscious of its power (it has been allowed to suggest ministerial appointments and chancellors, and Albert rarely used his power in the Bundestag to bully it) means that liberal political parties feel more equal to conservative Kartellparteien. Your position on antisemitism is as much a marker of political identity in this Germany as your position on Civil Rights was in 1960s America.

Well....
Albert already made his opinion known in his letter to the Prussian Landtag (page 2) as you said. Maybe Wilhelm III has to remind his military (and the larger population) of the Napoleonic wars? Especially 1813? Seems they have forgotten quite a bit?

As far as I know the number (percentage-wise) of Prussian Jewish volunteers was higher than the overall percentage of the Jewish population in Prussia? That doesn´t sound like "unmilitary and cowardly". Sounds pretty patriotic in fact.
And I would assume that the Ullstein press would mention that too?

Given this Wilhelm´s reaction to the Lesche - Gernsdorf duel / murder (page 8) and his friendship to Rathenau I would expect him to mention this - to conservatives - inconvenient fact. :)
Conservatives in Prussia first want to forget the legacy of Frederick the Great and then the legacy of the "Freiheitskriege" (Liberation wars againist Napoleon 1813-1815)? :eek:

Not to mention that both France and Russia (as mentioned in countless posts) are a possible threat to Germany. Anyone inciting distrust or hate among loyal German citizens (because of religion, origin or language) is therefore pretty close to treason. :p
(Leak to the press from some anonymous senior administration official.)
 
25 January 1905, St Petersburg

“NO!” Nicholas II was not given to outbursts of rage – the volatile monarch more commonly vacillated between confidence and despairing disappointment – but on this topic, he would not budge. He had made his decision, and no amount of pleading would move him. “Uncle Nikolai, I have thought the decision through and I will and must remove myself from the city. It is not a matter of safety, it is a question of principle! The Czar cannot remain among the ingrate, disobedient rabble. I will go to where my people, my loyal people, can find me when they call me.”
Grand Prince Nikolai stood in silent shock. His nephew had long been given to silly notions of Russian tradition and liked to imagine himself the paternal ruler of a childishly obedient, simple people, but so far, he had never allowed this fancy to dominate his decisions to such an extent.
“Please, your Majesty, Nikolai Alexandrovich, I beg you!”, he pleaded. “The mob has risen, the country is on the brink of anarchy! A strong stand is required now, a show of force. When the sprting offensive drives the Japanese from Manchuria, the taste of victory will drive such notions from the heads of the people, but until then we must remain here, stand firm and face the revolution like men from the blood of Peter the Great must. If you leave now, all will collapse!”
Nicholas shook his head. “Uncle, you do not understand. I do not leave from fear. It is not weakness, but moral strength! When Czar Ivan Grozny faced the ingratitude and rebellion of his people, he abandoned them to teach them the lesson that the Rus cannot be without its Czar. There was darkness, anarchy and chaos, and the people learned. The loyal people recalled him to rule over them, and they visited such retaliation on the traitors that Russia stood strong for a generation. I will await my people at Moscow. Until then, Uncle Nikolai, I must trust the admin istration of the city and its chastisement to loyal men.”
Governor General Trepov stood, trembling with fear. To the knowledge of everyone in the room, this may well have been the first time he ever contradicted his emperor. You had to give him credit for being a good servant, Grand Prince Nikolay thought. “Your majesty, I fear that his Highness is right. The people will not understand. St Petersburg may become unmanageable. There are already barricades in the streets, and we have lost soldiers and officers in the working class neighbourhoods. Without the strong hand of the Emperor here, in his palace, ruling the country, I fear we may lose control altogether.”
Nicholas II looked saddened. “Dimitri Feodorovich, my loyal, true, trustworthy Trepov. You give yourself too little credit. And what if I lose St Petersburg? We will retake it, retake it and return it to its rightful allegiance. It is hjardly a Russian city at all, as it stands, too much Western filth in it. No, the city can do with a cleaning. Hold it for me, or try, and I will not hold it against you if you lose it for a time. But I must be the Czar of all Russia, not the Count of St Petersburg. I will go, and I will take my council and the general staff with me.”
Konstantin Pobedonostsev, standing in the background, nodded gravely. Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, commander of the Moscow military district, extended his hand. “Your Majesty, your train is ready. I will accompany you and your servants, and you need not fear a thing while you are under the protection of my troops. A regiment stands ready to guard your train, and the barracks in Moscow have been made ready to house your lifeguards.”
Governor Trepov bowed quietly. To say any more would have been treason to his mind. Come time, the emperor would return, and he would need a loyal man to reconquer his realm and root out revolution and disloyalty. Trepov would be ready then.
 
26 January 1905, Omsk

General Brusilov was a reasonable person, but waiting for his batman to return for over two hours from a trip to the railway station was enough to strain his patience. He looked over the newspapers and reports on his desk again and wondered briefly whether to get something else to read from his suitcases. His transit to St Petersburg was scheduled for 9:00h, but in winter, railways were never quite as reliable as they should be. Brusilov had fought in Manchuria and, even in the opinion of hostile superiors, had acquitted himself well. Why he was being recalled he did not know, but he had received his marching orders in winter quarters and made his way across the frozen breadth of Siberia to report to wherever he was wanted next.

The door opened and Corporal Yasimov entered, standing to attention nervously. “What is it?”, Brusilov demanded testily. “General, I am sorry. There are no trains.” The young soldier sounded nervous, and Brusilov regretted his tone. Yasimov was a good man with a future as an NCO, and you could hardly blame him for the state of Russia's railroad network. “Very well, then.” he tried to sound relaxed. “Have they been able to tell you when services will resume?”
Yasimov swallowed hard. “General, it's not an interruption of services. There are no trains. The railway workers are on strike. They have proclaimed that they intend to keep the system shut down until the Czar grants a constitution.I am sorry, Sir. There was nothing I could do.”
General Brusilov stood still for a long moment. His mind recapitulated the long lists and tables of figures he had gone over, freight for the troops, reinforcements and resupply for General Kuropatkin, ammunition, coats, boots, food, tents, guns and telegraph wire that he had shuttled through the railheads. He tried to shake off the horrible image of these thousands and thousands of tons piling up in warehouses and railyards, uselessly rotting in the spring rain as the army choked, its vital artery shut off. It was enough to bring a stronger man to tears.
“It's all right, Corporal. See if you can get us horses, and maybe some vehicle, if it's possible. I fear we will travel a good deal less comfortably from here.”
 
29 January 1905, Stockholm

Karl Weber's job was usually not exciting. As a representative for AEG, Sweden was a quiet posting. You could not expect much business in the country of Eriksson. Today, though, was more exciting than most – to be truthful, more exciting than Weber cared for. He had brought his guest to the port and boarded a lasunch to take him out to a ship waiting offshore, which was tricky business even if you had your sea legs. Weber had been in the infantry, twenty years ago, and the mysterious Mr Heikkinen did not seem any more comfortable. By the time they climbed to the schooner's deck, both looked slightly green and were grateful for the steaming mugs of tea the captain ordered brought up for them.
“Mr Weber,” the visitor spoke excellent Swedish, “I assume these are the tools you discussed with the patriotic club?”He pointed to the crates secured on the ship's deck.
“The tools we discussed are stowed below. These contain generators, just in case.” Weber felt extremely uncomfortable. One of the things he had not expected to be asked to do in his capacity as a commercial clerk was playing the secret agent. Heikkinen wenbt doen the hatchway to open a box, lifting out a Mauser rifle. He handled it far too competently for Weber's taste.
“These are excellent. Thank you, Mr Weber, and please convey my thanks to our unknown benefactors, too.”
 
12 February 1905, Berlin
...Yes, I am in love, I must admit it to myself. How impossible the thought, to love the representative of all I have grown to fear and despise, and yet, how true, how liberating, how right! Wilhelm, boy genius, the lord of this world – oh, what a stirring phrase, he IS the lord of this world in so many senses, the Lucifer of my soul! The heart of all things real. How could I not see this before, how not realise that as Apollo breathes where the arts dwell, so does Minerva animate the realm of all things that are and do? And how strange a thought, that the tender female anima should be so nobly represented by a male Godhead while the active, masculine principle thrives under the aegis, literally, of a Goddess! I must speak of this to Wilhelm, complex things are often so simple to him. Oh, to be in his company again – and how painfully sweet the wait! This promise is more precious than the dreary reality of a daily routine. Must I not count myself fortunate in that I will see him but rarely? Oh, calm is so hard to come by, what a day, what glorious days! How many more to come? I must not tempt fate, I must not! Should I die this instant, I must count myself fortunate to have lived this day! Oh, my dear Wilhelm, that you have chosen me! It must be fated, purposed by a higher power, how else? How can a woman be free when she feels this? No matter, I will be true AND I will be free. Free to be true! Poor Wilhelm, he will not have this freedom, constrained by tradition, obliged to marry for duty. Let him serve his duty, I will serve my love! Glorious liberty, not to be a queen!...
(diary of Fanny Gräfin zu Reventlow)


13 February 1905, Berlin
“You could have made a more – prudent choice.” Walther Rathenau was not judgmental, which was the main reason why Wilhelm had come to him for advice.
“I love her, Walther! It was not my choosing. But obviously, I cannot well follow her example and run off to become a painter in Munich. You haven't seen the garbage I produced in art class.”
The two men shared a chuckle. “You couldn't sell a painting if your life depended on it. But it's a good thing you can see that much. We can make arrangementsthat will suit you, I'm sure.”
Wilhelm hesitated. “The scandal...”
“Bah!” Rathenau dismissed the thought with a wave of the hand. “Scandals like that are the bread and butter of newspaper writers. Nobody cares! King Edward travels around with two mistresses in tow, and Leopold of Belgium carries on with a schoolgirl, at his age, now there's a scandal. Nobody will care, in the long run. Of course Gräfin zu Reventlow will be ostracised by polite society, but then... “
“She is used to that.” Wilhelm completed the uncharitable thought. As a divorcee, a single mother and a writer keeping company with artists and philosophers, Fanny zu Reventlow was only ever mentioned as a scandalous example of misconduct. Her writings had done little to alleviate the burden of public opprobrium. “What I am worried about is the right kind of people. Fanny lives for conversation. She would never agree to a retired, quiet life.”
Rathenau shrugged. “That's what I meant by a prudent choice. Ballerinas are just so much easier to maintain and replace, when the occcasion arises.” He quickly raised his hand. “No, I do not mean you should replace her.” With the practicality of a businessman, Rathenau had, of course, contemplated the notion. Fanny was ten years Wilhelm's senior. Now, she was a famous beauty, but ten years from now, the emperor might well be looking for an easy way out of his relationship, no matter how brilliant a conversationalist she might be.
“I think the best way would be to set up some kind of foundation. She can manage the funds, become a patroness of the arts and keep a literary salon. That way, she will have standing in the artistic world, and your meetings will not have to be furtive.”
Wilhelm nodded. “I think a house in Berlin should be manageable. The court holds some real estate that I have personal control over. But the funds for a foundation...”
“Don't worry about it. I'll set up something. And please, don't you give her the house. I can handle that end, too. It would feel like payment, and I doubt she would want that.”
the emperor nodded again. “You're right. Thank you, Walther. I do not know if I can ever repay you.”
“It's all right. And you are right, she is complicated. I hope she is worth it.”
Wilhelm looked up. “She is. She's even worth facing Uncle Albert's wrath over.”
 
19 February 1905, North of Mukden

Lieutenant Nagata Tetsuzan was proud. He had been told that he could be, to be entrusted with so important a mission so soon after his arrival at the front. He had been filled with a grave, quiet resolve to serve his Emperor with every fibre of his being when he had stood face to face with General Nogi, the victor of Port Arthur. However, above all, Lieutenant Nagata was cold, tired, and increasingly concerned he might also be lost. The old joke listing a lieutenant with a map as a legitimate battlefield hazard sounded increasingly unfunny. Reading the countryside in the middle of snowdrifts was hard work. One of his men was coming back from a reconnaissance, and Nagata desperately hoped for good news.
“Railroad tracks, Sir!” the exhausted Private Tanaka reported. Relief flooded through Nagata's mind. They were in the right place after all. “Railroad tracks, and an infantry picket.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don't think so, sir. They didn't react, and I was a fair way off.”
The lieutenant nodded. “Well done. Sergeant, you and the squad stay here, in the shadow of the hill.Corporal Hayashi, pick two men to go on lookout at the top, but carefully. Corporal Doi, prepare to report back to headquarters and guide more troops here. I will go forward myself to see who we are facing.”He had the training, he had the binoculars. It was only fair. Still, Lieutenant Nagata cursed himself as he crept through the snoqw, slowly rounding the hill through the brush, staying out of line of sight as much as he could. The railway tracks ran through the valley before him, straight to the north, eerily quiet under the pale winter light. A group of soldiers had taken up position beside the track, set up a small shelter, made a fire, and seemed to be waiting for something. Carefully, Nagata worked his way down the hillside until the was close enough to make out details. Wrapped up in their greatcoats and swaddled against the cold, the men looked more like stuffed dolls, but the uniform coats gave them away. They were Japanese. Lieutenant Nagata's heart leapt to his throat. He rose, raised his hand and walked towards the picket, signalling the lookout to relax. The pickets knelt behind the improvised berm they had built and lowered their rifles.
“Who goes there?”
“Friend!” He shouted. “Lieutenant Nagata!” they did not fire. He slowly approached until he was within speaking distance and could give the password. One of the men still aiming laid aside his weapon, rose and saluted.
“Sergeant Matsuki, Sir. First Army. Are you...”
“From General Nogi's Third Army. Yes, sergeant. We have them in the bag now!”
 
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