The archduke spent a large sum of money, some years ago, in endeavoring to turn the gypsies from their nomadic life, and to induce them to settle down, in order to devote their time and energies to the practice of the wonderful art of working metal, which they possess to so marked a degree, instead of roaming aimlessly about, and sometimes thieving, as is unfortunately their habit.  He built a number of villages for them in the district surrounding Presburg, and organized gypsy settlements.  But the scheme proved a failure.  The Tziganes, true to the instincts that they have inherited from countless generations, abandoned the comfortable houses, the fields and blossoming gardens with which they had been provided by their imperial benefactor.  They refused to till the soil, and commenced once more their interminable wanderings.

In spite of this fiasco, the archduke still continues to consider himself as the protector of the Romanys, and remains proud of his title of “Gypsy Prince,” being sagacious enough to realize that it is impossible for a race to eradicate from their character, in a comparatively short space of time, traits that have been theirs for hundreds, nay thousands of years; for the origin of these gypsies is still shrouded in mystery and lost in the gloom of prehistoric ages, although it is probable that they are of Persian descent.

While Emperor William’s taste as regards music meets with very widespread approval, and his gifts as a composer are very generally recognized, he has been less fortunate with regard to other branches of art; notably in the matter of painting, where he finds himself in frequent conflict with his people, especially with the great painters of his empire.  Of all the muses there is none so truly democratic as that of pictorial art.  The pictorial muse displays a truly republican intolerance of control on the part of either king or government.  Hence it is only natural that Germany, which has produced in the past, and still possesses, so many world-famed painters and architectural designers, should strongly resent the kaiser’s assumption of the supreme arbitership in all matters relating to art.  His subjects submitted to his claim of “Regis voluntas suprema lex,” in matters connected with the administration of the government, in diplomacy, in the drama, in music, and in literature, but they deny his power to impose upon them his taste in pictorial art.

It is no exaggeration to state that the emperor is in almost perpetual conflict, and at open war with the great majority of German painters and designers—­a notable exception being the case of Professor von Menzel.  Indeed, their discontent occasionally breaks forth with an intensity altogether new in the annals of German loyalty to the throne.  A very remarkable instance thereof is the means which they adopted to show their disapproval of the emperor’s treatment of Wallot, the designer of the palace of the imperial parliament.  Wallot is universally