"It is rather amusing that the ultramontanes should be charged with receiving orders from Rome, for the voice of the Father of Christianity has not been heard for many years back, in the council of state."
"Hurrah for the Syllabus!" cried Spitzkopf, who was at the head of the rioters. "Hurrah for the Syllabus!" echoed his gang, yelling and stamping wildly.
The ultramontanes were aroused, eyes glared fiercely, and fists were clenched ready to make a summary clearing of the hall. But no scuffle ensued; the ultramontanes maintained a dignified bearing. The speaker calmly remained in his place, and when the tumult had ceased he again went on with his discourse.
"Such only," said he, "take offence at the Syllabus as know nothing about it. There is not a word in the Syllabus opposed to political liberty or the most untrammelled self-government of the German people. But it is opposed to the fiendish terrorism of infidelity. The Syllabus condemns the diabolical principles by which the foundations of the Christian state are sapped and a most disastrous tyranny over conscience is proclaimed."
"Hallo! listen to that," cried one of the liberals, and the yelling was renewed, louder, longer, and more furious than before.
The chairman rang his bell. The revellers relapsed into silence.
"Ours is not a public meeting, but a mere private gathering," explained the chairman. "None but men of Christian principles have been invited. If others have intruded violently, I request them to leave the room, or, at least, to refrain from conduct unbecoming men of good-breeding."
Spitzkopf laughed aloud, his comrades yelled and stamped.
"Let us go!" said Greifmann to Gerlach in an angry tone.
"Let us stay!" rejoined the latter with excitement. "The affair is becoming interesting. I want to see how this will end."
The banker noticed Gerlach's suppressed indignation; he observed it in the fire of his eyes and the expression of unutterable contempt that had spread over his features, and he began to consider the situation as alarming. He had not expected this exhibition of brutal impertinence. In his estimation an infringement of propriety like the one he had just witnessed was a far more heinous transgression than the grossest violations in the sphere of morals. He judged of Gerlach's impressions by this standard of appreciation, and feared the behavior of the progressionist mob would produce an effect in the young man's mind far from favorable to the cause which they represented. He execrated the disturbance of the liberals, and took Seraphin's arm to lead him away.
"Come away, I beg of you! I cannot imagine what interest the rudeness of that uncultivated horde can have for you."
"Do not scorn them, for they are honestly earning their pay," rejoined Gerlach.
"What do you mean?"
"Those fellows are whistling, bawling, stamping, and yelling in the employ of progress. You are trying to give me an insight into the nature of modern civilization: could there be a better opportunity than this?"
"There you make a mistake, my dear fellow! Enlightened progress is never rude."
CHAPTER VII
The tumult continued. As soon as the orator attempted to speak, his voice was drowned by cries and stamping.
"Commissary!" cried the chairman to that officer, "I demand that you extend to our assembly the protection of the law."
"I am here simply to watch the proceedings of your meeting," replied Parteiling with cool indifference. "Everybody is at liberty in meetings to signify his approval or disapproval by signs. No act forbidden by the law has been committed by your opponents, in my opinion."
"Bravo! bravo! Three cheers for the commissary!"
All at once the noise was subdued to a whisper of astonishment. A miracle was taking place under the very eyes of progress. Banker Greifmann, the moneyed prince and liberal, made his appearance upon the platform. The rioters saw with amazement how the mighty man before whom the necks of all such as were in want of money bowed-even the necks of the puissant leaders-stepped before the president of the assembly, how he politely bowed and spoke a few words in an undertone. They observed how the chairman nodded assent, and then how the banker, as if to excite their wonder to the highest pitch, mounted to the speaker's desk.
"Gentlemen," began Carl Greifmann, "although I have not the honor of sharing your political views, I feel myself nevertheless urged to address a few words to you. In the name of true progress, I ask this honorable assembly's pardon for the disturbance occasioned a moment ago by a band of uncultivated rioters, who dare to pretend that they are acting in the cause and with the sanction of progress. I solemnly protest against the assumption that their disgraceful and outrageous conduct is in accordance with the spirit of the party which they dishonor. Progress holds firmly to its principles, and defends them manfully in the struggle with its opposers, but it is far from making itself odious by rudely overstepping the bounds of decency set by humanity and civilization. In political contests, it may be perfectly lawful to employ earnest persuasion and even influences that partake of the rigor of compulsion, but rudeness, impertinence, is never justifiable in an age of civilization. Commissary Parteiling discovers no legally prohibited offence in the expression of vulgarity and lowness-may be. Nevertheless, a high misdemeanor has been perpetrated against decorum and against the deference which man owes to man. Should the slightest disturbance be again attempted, I shall use the whole weight of my influence in prosecuting the guilty parties, and convince them that even in the spirit of progress they are offenders and can be reached by punishment."
He spoke, and retired to the other end of the hall, followed by loud applause from the ultramontanes. Nor were the threats of the mighty man uttered in vain. Spitzkopf hung his head abashed. The other revellers were tamed, they listened demurely to the speakers, ceased their contemptuous hootings, and stood on their good behavior. Greifmann's proceeding had taken Seraphin also by surprise, and the power which the banker possessed over the rioters set him to speculating deeply. He saw plainly that Louise's brother commanded an extraordinary degree of respect in the camp of the enemies of religion, and the only cause that could sufficiently account for the fact was a community of principles of which they were well aware. Hence the opinion he had formed of Greifmann was utterly erroneous, concluded Gerlach, The banker was not a mere secluded business man-he was not indifferent about the great questions of the age. Then there was another circumstance that perplexed the ruddy-cheeked millionaire to no inconsiderable degree-Greifmann's unaccountable way of taking things. The tyrannical mode of electioneering which they had witnessed at the sign of the "Green Hat" had not at all disgusted Greifmann. Spitzkopf's threats had not excited his indignation. He had with a smiling countenance looked on whilst the most brutal species of terrorism was being enacted before him, he had not expressed a word of contempt at the constraint which they who held the power inhumanly placed on the political liberty of their dependents. On the other hand, his indignation was aroused by a mere breach of good behavior, an offence which in Gerlach's estimation was as nothing compared with the other instances of progressionist violence. The banker seemed to him to have strained out a gnat after having swallowed a whole drove of camels. The youth's suspicions being excited, he began to study the strainer of gnats and swallower of camels more closely, and soon the banker turned out in his estimation a hollow stickler for mere outward decency, devoid of all deeper merit. He now recollected also Greifmann's dealings with the leaders of progress, and those transactions only confirmed his present views. What he had considered as an extraordinary degree of shrewdness in the man of business, which enabled him to take advantage of the peculiar convictions and manner of thinking of other men, was now to his mind a real affinity with their principles, and he could not help being shocked at the discovery.
He hung his head in a melancholy mood, and his heart protested earnestly against the inference which was irresistibly forcing itself upon his mind, that the sister shared her brother's sentiments.
"This doubt must be cleared up, cost what it may," thought he. "My God, what if Louise also turned out to be a progressionist, a woman without any faith, an infidel! No, that cannot be! Yet suppose it really were the case-suppose she actually held principles in common with such vile beings as Schwefel, Sand, Erdblatt, and Shund? Suppose her moral nature did not harmonize with the beauty of her person-what then?" He experienced a spasmodic contraction in his heart at the question, he hesitated with the answer, but, his better self finally getting the victory, he said: "Then all is over. The impressions of a dream; however delightful, must not influence a waking man. My father's calculation was wrong, and I have wasted my kindness on an undeserving object."
So completely wrapt up was he in his meditations that he heard not a word of the speeches, not even the concluding remarks of the president. Greifmann's approach roused him, and they left the hall together.
"That was ruffianly conduct, of which progress would have for ever to be ashamed," said the banker indignantly, "They bayed and yelped like a pack of hounds. At their first volley I was as embarrassed and confused as a modest girl would be at the impertinence of some young scapegrace. Fierce rage then hurried me to the platform, and my words have never done better service, for they vindicated civilization."
"I cannot conceive how a trifle could thus exasperate you."
Greifmann stood still and looked at his companion in astonishment.
"A trifle!" echoed he reproachfully. "Do you call a piece of wanton impudence, a ruffianly outrage against several hundreds of men entitled to respect, a trifle?
"I do, compared with other crimes that you have suffered to pass unheeded and uncensured," answered Gerlach. "You had not an indignant word for the unutterable meanness of those three leaders, who were immoral and unprincipled enough to invest a notorious villain with office and honors. Nor did you show any exasperation at the brutal terrorism practised by men of power in this town over their weak and unfortunate dependents."
"Take my advice, and be on your guard against erroneous and narrow-minded judgments. The leaders merely had a view to their own ends, but they in no manner sinned against propriety. The raising a man of Shund's abilities to the office of mayor is an act of prudence-by no means an offence against humanity."
"Yet it was an outrage to moral sentiment," opposed Seraphin.
"See here, Gerlach, moral sentiment is a very elastic sort of thing. Sentiment goes for nothing in practical life, and such is the character of life in our century."
"Well, then, the mere sense of propriety is not worth a whit more."
"I ask your pardon! Propriety belongs to the realm of actualities or of practical experiences, and not to the shadowland of sentiment. Propriety is the rule that regulates the intercourse of men, it is therefore a necessity, nothing else will serve as a substitute for it, and it must continue to be so regarded as long as a difference is recognized between rational man and the irrational brute."
"The same may be said with much more reason of morality, for it also is a rule, it regulates our actions, it determines the ethic worth or worthlessness of a man. Mere outward decorum does not necessarily argue any interior excellence. The most abandoned wretch may be distinguished for easy manners and elegant deportment, yet he is none the less a criminal. A dog may be trained to many little arts, but for all that it continues to be a dog.
"It is delightful to see you breaking through that uniform patience of yours for once and showing a little of the fire of indignation," said the banker pleasantly. "I shall tell Louise of it, I know she will be glad to learn that Seraphin too is susceptible of a human passion. But this by the way. Now watch how I shall meet your arguments. That very moral sentiment of which you speak has caused and is still causing the most enormous crimes against humanity, and the laws of morality are as changeable as the wind. When an Indian who has not been raised from barbarism by civilization dies, the religious custom of the country requires that his wife should permit herself to be burned alive on the funeral pyre of her husband. Moral sentiment teaches the uncivilized woman that it is a horrible crime to refuse to devote herself to this cruel death. The pious Jews used to stone every woman to death who was taken in adultery-in our day, such a deed of blood would be revolting to moral sentiment, and would claim tears from the eyes of cultivated people. I could mention many other horrors that were practised more or less remotely in the past, and were sanctioned by the prevailing moral sentiment. Here is my last instance: according to laws of morality, the usurer was at one time a monster, an arch-villain-at present, he is merely a man of great enterprise. Propriety, on the other hand, enlightenment, and polish are absolute and unalterable. Whilst rudeness and impertinence will ever be looked upon as disgusting, good manners and politeness will be considered as commendable and beautiful."
Seraphin could not but admire the skill with which Greifmann jumbled together subjects of the most heterogeneous nature. But he could not, at the same time, divest himself of some alarm at the banker's declarations, for they betrayed a soul-life of little or absolutely no moral worth. Money, interest, and respectability constituted the only trinity in which the banker believed. Morality, binding the conscience of man, a true and only God, and divine revelation, were in his opinion so many worn-out and useless notions, which the progress of mankind had successfully got beyond.
"When those who hold power take advantage of it at elections, they in no manner offend against propriety," proceeded Carl. "Progress has convictions as well as ultramontanism. If the latter is active, why should not the former be so too? If, on the side of progress, the weak and dependent permit themselves to be cowed and driven, it is merely an advantage for the powerful, and for the others it is a weakness or cowardice. For this reason, the mode of electioneering pursued by Spitzkopf and his comrades amused but nowise shocked me, for they were not acting against propriety."
Seraphin saw it plainly: for Carl Greifmann there existed no distinction between good and evil; he recognized only a cold and empty system of formalities.
The two young men issued from a narrow street upon the market-place. This was occupied by a large public building. In the open space stood a group of men, among whom Flachsen appeared conspicuous. He was telling the others about Greifmann's speech at the meeting of the ultramontanes. They all manifested great astonishment that the influential moneyed prince should have appeared in such company, and, above all, should have made a speech in their behalf.
"He declared it was vulgar, impudent, ruffianly, to disturb a respectable assembly," reported Flachsen. "He said he knew some of us, and that he would have us put where the dogs would not bite us if we attempted to disturb them again. That's what he said; and I actually rubbed my eyes to be quite sure it was banker Greifmann that was speaking, and really it was he, the banker Greifmann himself, bodily, and not a mere apparition."
"I must say the banker was right, for it isn't exactly good manners to howl, stamp, and whistle to annoy one's neighbors," owned another.
"But we were paid for doing it, and we only carried out the orders given by certain gentlemen."
"To be sure! Men like us don't know what good breeding is-it's for gentlemen to understand that," maintained a third. "We do what men of good breeding hire us to do, and if it isn't proper, it matters nothing to us-let the gentlemen answer for it."
"Bravo, Stoffel, bravo!" applauded Flachsen. "Yours is the right sort of servility, Stoffel! You are a real human, servile, and genuine reactive kind of a fellow-so you are. I agree with you entirely. The gentlemen do the paying, and it is for them to answer for what happens. We are merely servants, we are hirelings, and what need a hireling care whether that which his master commands is right or not? The master is responsible, not the hireling. What I am telling you belongs to the exact sciences, and the exact sciences are at the pinnacle of modern acquisitions. Hence a hireling who without scruple carries out the orders of his master is up to the highest point of the age-such a fellow has taken his stand on servility. Hallo! the election has commenced. Be off, every man of you, to his post. But mind you don't look too deep into the beer-pots before the election is over. Keep your heads level, be cautious, do your best for the success of the green ticket. Once the election is carried, you may swill beer till you can no longer stand. The gentlemen will foot the bill, and assume all responsibilities."
They dispersed themselves through the various drinking-shops of the neighborhood.
Near the door of the building in which the voting was to take place stood a number of progressionist gentlemen. They all wore heavy beards, smoked cigars, and peered about restlessly. To those of their party who chanced to pass they nodded and smiled knowingly, upon doubtful voters they smiled still more blandly, added some pleasant words, and pressed the acceptance of the green ticket, but for ultramontane voters they had only jeers and coarse witticisms. As Greifmann approached they respectfully raised their hats. The banker drew Gerlach to one side, and stood to make observations.
"What swarms there are around the drinking-shops," remarked Greifmann. "It is there that the tickets are filled under the persuasive influence of beer. The committee provide the tickets which the voters have filled with the names of the candidates by clerks who sit round the tables at the beer-shops. It is quite an ingenious arrangement, for beer will reconcile a voter to the most objectionable kind of a candidate."
A crowd of drunken citizens coming out of the nearest tavern approached. Linked arm-in-arm, they swayed about and staggered along with an unsteady pace. Green tickets bearing the names of the candidates whom progress had chosen to watch over the common weal could be seen protruding from the pockets of their waistcoats. Gerlach, seeing the drunken mob and recollecting the solemn and important nature of the occasion, was seized with loathing and horror at the corruption of social life revealed in the low means to which the party of progress had recourse to secure for its ends the votes of these besotted and ignorant men.
Presently Schwefel stepped up and saluted the young men.
"Do you not belong to the committee in charge of the ballot-box?" inquired Greifmann.
"No, sir, I wished to remain entirely untrammelled this morning," answered the leader with a sly look and tone. "This is going to be an exciting election, the ultramontanes are astir, and it will be necessary for me to step in authoritatively now and then to decide a vote. Moreover, the committee is composed exclusively of men of our party. Not a single ultramontane holds a seat at the polls."
"In that case there can be no question of failure," said the banker. "Your office is closed to-day, no doubt?"
"Of course!" assented the manufacturer of straw hats. "This day is celebrated as a free day by the offices of all respectable houses. Our clerks are dispersed through the taverns and election districts to use their pens in filling up tickets."
"I am forced to return to my old assertion: an election is mere folly, useless jugglery," said the banker, turning to Seraphin. "Holding elections is no longer a rational way of doing, it is no longer a business way of proceeding, it is yielding to stupid timidity. Mr. Schwefel, don't you think elections are mere folly?"
"I confess I have never considered the subject from that point of view," answered the leader cautiously. "But meanwhile-what do you understand by that?"
"Be good enough to attend to my reasoning for a moment. Progress is in a state of complete organization. What progress wills, must be. Another party having authority and power cannot subsist side by side with progress. Just see those men staggering and blundering over the square with green tickets in their hands! To speak without circumlocution, look at the slaves doing the behests of their masters. What need of this silly masquerade of an election? Why squander all this money, waste all this beer and time? Why does not progress settle this business summarily? Why not simply nominate candidates fit for the office, and then send them directly to the legislature? This mode would do away with all this nonsensical ado, and would give the matter a prompt and business cast, conformable to the spirit of the age."
"This idea is a good one, but we have an election law that would stand in the way of carrying it out."
"Bosh-election law!" sneered the banker. "Your election law is a mere scarecrow, an antiquated, meaningless instrument. Do away with the election law, and follow my suggestion."
"That would occasion a charming row on the part of the ultramontanes," observed the leader laughing.
"Was the lion ever known to heed the bleating of a sheep? When did progress ever pay any attention to a row gotten up by the ultramontanes?" rejoined Greifmann. "Was not the fuss made in Bavaria against the progressionist school-law quite a prodigious one? Did not our own last legislature make heavy assaults on the church? Did not the entire episcopate protest against permitting Jews, Neo-pagans, and Freemasons to legislate, on matters of religion? But did progress suffer itself to be disconcerted by episcopal protests and the agonizing screams of the ultramontanes? Not at all. It calmly pursued the even tenor of its way. Be logical, Mr. Schwefel: progress reigns supreme and decrees with absolute authority-why should it not summarily relegate this election law among the things that were, but are no more?"
"You are right, Greifmann!" exclaimed Gerlach, in a feeling of utter disgust. "What need has the knout of Russian despotism of the sanction of constitutional forms? Progress is lord, the rest are slaves!"
"You have again misunderstood me, my good fellow. I am considering the actual state of things. Should ultramontanism at any time gain the ascendency, then it also will be justified in behaving in the same manner."
Upon more mature consideration, Gerlach found himself forced to admit that Greifmann's view, from the standpoint of modern culture, was entirely correct. Progress independently of God and of all positive religion could not logically be expected to recognize any moral obligations, for it had not a moral basis. Everything was determined by the force of circumstances; the autocracy of party rule made anything lawful. Laws proceeded not from the divine source of unalterable justice, but from the whim of a majority-fashioned and framed to suit peculiar interests and passions.
"We have yet considerable work to do to bring all to thinking as clearly and rationally as you, Mr. Greifmann," said the leader with a winning smile.
Schwefel accompanied the millionaires into a lengthy hall, across the lower end of which stood a table. There sat the commissary of elections surrounded by the committee, animated gentlemen with great beards, who were occupied in distributing tickets to voters or receiving tickets filled up. The extraordinary good-humor prevailing among these gentlemen was owing to the satisfactory course of the election, for rarely was any ultramontane paper seen mingling in the flood that poured in from the ranks of progress. The sides of the hall were hung with portraits of the sovereigns of the land, quite a goodly row. The last one of the series was youthful in appearance, and some audacious hand had scrawled on the broad gilt frame the following ominous words: "May he be the last in the succession of expensive bread-eaters." Down the middle of the hall ran a baize-covered table, on which were numerous inkstands. Scattered over the table lay a profusion of green bills; the yellow color of the ultramontane bills was nowhere to be seen. The table was lined by gentlemen who were writing. They were not writing for themselves, but for others, who merely sighed their names and then handed the tickets to the commissary. Several corpulent gentlemen also occupied seats at the table, but they were not engaged in writing. These gentlemen, apparently unoccupied, wore massive gold watch-chains and sparkling rings, and they had a commanding and stern expression of countenance. They were observing all who entered, to see whether any man would be bold enough to vote the yellow ticket. People of the humbler sort, mechanics and laborers, were constantly coming in and going out. Bowing reverently to the portly gentlemen, they seated themselves and filled out green tickets with the names of the liberal candidates. Most of them did not even trouble themselves to this degree, but simply laid their tickets before the penman appointed for this special service. All went off in the best order. The process of the election resembled the smooth working of an ingenious piece of machinery. And there was no tongue there to denounce the infamous terrorism that had crushed the freedom of the election or had bought the votes of vile and venal men with beer.
Seraphin stood with Greifmann in the recess of a window looking on.
"Who are the fat men at the table?" inquired he.
"The one with the very black beard is house-builder Sand, the second is Eisenhart, machine-builder, the third is Erdfloh, a landowner, the fourth and fifth are tobacco merchants. All those gentlemen are chieftains of the party of progress."
"They show it," observed Gerlach. "Their looks, in a manner, command every man that comes in to take the green ticket, and I imagine I can read on their brows: 'Woe to him who dares vote against us. He shall be under a ban, and shall have neither employment nor bread.' It is unmitigated tyranny! I imagine I see in those fat fellows so many cotton-planters voting their slaves."
"That is a one-sided conclusion, my most esteemed," rejoined the banker. "In country villages, the position here assumed by the magnates of progress is filled by the lords of ultramontanism, clerical gentlemen in cassocks, who keep a sharp eye on the fingers of their parishioners. This, too, is influencing."
"But not constraining," opposed the millionaire promptly. "The clergy exert a legitimate influence by convincing, by advancing solid grounds for their political creed. They never have recourse to compulsory measures, nor dare they do so, because it would be opposed to the Gospel which they preach. The autocrats of progress, on the contrary, do not hesitate about using threats and violence. Should a man refuse to bow to their dictates, they cruelly deprive him of the means of subsistence. This is not only inhuman, but it is also an accursed scheme for making slaves of the people and robbing them of principle."
"Ah! look yonder-there is Holt."
The land cultivator had walked into the hall head erect. He looked along the table and stood undecided. One of the ministering spirits of progress soon fluttered about him, offering him a green ticket. Holt glanced at it, and a contemptuous smile spread over his face. He next tore it to pieces, which he threw on the floor.
"What are you about?" asked the angel of progress reproachfully.
"I have reduced Shund and his colleagues to fragments," answered Holt dryly, then approaching the commissary he demanded a yellow ticket.
"Glorious!" applauded Gerlach. "I have half a mind to present this true German man with another thousand as a reward for his spirit."
The fat men had observed with astonishment the action of the land cultivator. Their astonishment turned to rage when Holt, leisurely seating himself at the table, took a pen in his mighty fist and began filling out the ticket with the names of the ultramontane candidates. Whilst he wrote, whisperings could be heard all through the hall, and every eye was directed upon him. After no inconsiderable exertion, the task of filling out the ticket was successfully accomplished, and Holt arose, leaving the ticket lying upon the table. In the twinkling of an eye a hand reached forward to take it up.
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Holt sternly.
"That yellow paper defiles the table," hissed the fellow viciously.
"Hand back that ticket," commanded Holt roughly. "I want it to be here. The yellow ticket has as good a right on this table as the green one-do you hear me?"
"Slave of the priests!" sputtered his antagonist.
"If I am a slave of the priests, then you are a slave of that villain Shund," retorted Holt. "I am not to be browbeaten-by such a fellow as you particularly-least of all by a vile slave of Shund's." He spoke, and then reached his ticket to the commissary.
"That is an impudent dog," growled leader Sand. "Who is he?"
"He is a countryman of the name of Holt," answered he to whom the query was addressed.
"We must spot the boor," said Erdfloh. "His swaggering shall not avail him anything."
Holt was not the only voter that proved refractory. Mr. Schwefel, also, had a disagreeable surprise. He was standing near the entrance, observing with great self-complacency how the workmen in his employ submissively cast their votes for Shund and his associates. Schwefel regarded himself as of signal importance in the commonwealth, for he controlled not less than four hundred votes, and the side which it was his pleasure to favor could not fail of victory. The head of the great leader seemed in a manner encircled with the halo of progress: whilst his retainers passed and saluted him, he experienced something akin to the pride of a field-marshal reviewing a column of his victorious army.