Karl Kraus, the editor of the "Fackel", took to the lectern in the Musikvereinssaal yesterday. According to his followers, Kraus is an unusual individuality who, with the weapon of his own, sharply defined language and an incorruptible love of truth, leads the fight against lies and pretence wherever they appear. Kraus is said to be the first and only person to have recognised war in its naked awfulness and inhumanity and to have fearlessly condemned it. What we heard from Karl Kraus yesterday sounded different. The masterly performance of individual scenes and monologues from Kraus' poem "The Last Days of Mankind" was captivating. We recognised the vivid power of the expression, which calls the war by name, which we ourselves often secretly recognise, but which hardly ever condenses into words. In the style of "Jugend", "Simplizissimus" and probably also "Muskete", Kraus took up piquant officer anecdotes, sharpened them to a sharp point and aroused much amusement with his excellent delivery, dialect and dialogue.

However, Kraus suddenly removed the mask of the satirist when, in one scene, he characterised Wilhelm II in his dealings with his generals. In a way that cannot be reproduced, Kraus created a distorted image of the German Emperor and his surroundings that was bound to arouse the disgust and revulsion of anyone with a healthy sensibility. The audience could no longer contain its indignation, several visitors left the hall during the lecture, and after the scene had been presented, loud and violent booing resounded from the hall and the gallery, preventing the speaker from continuing for several minutes. After a lull, Kraus concluded his evening with a dying soldier's cursing speech against the Emperor, delivered with heightened pathos.

We can have different opinions about the person of Wilhelm II, but we must be fair and fair-minded enough to recognise his honest will and not deny him human respect in his misfortune. Karl Kraus, however, has done no service to the truth in his portrayal, which unmistakably bears the brand of a certain intention on its forehead. Cultural work that begins with tearing down and enraging, that pours corrosive poison into the wounds of our time, cannot do us any favours. We firmly reject "enlightenment" that works with such means. Karl Kraus should not be surprised that his remarks did not go unchallenged in the German city of Innsbruck. To add to our misfortune, we do not want to be ridiculed and pelted with faeces. There would have to be no spark of healthy feeling, no German heartbeat left in us, if we did not resolutely oppose such behaviour. If Karl Kraus has nothing better and more profound to say to us, then we have no need of him.