AN INFLAMMATORY SPEECH
In the Spineder home Christmas Eve had been celebrated in the usual
patriarchal manner. But the atmosphere was not entirely cheerful. The
Hofrat was beginning to have grave financial worries because of the
depreciation of his fortune; Frau Spineder had not yet recovered from
the shock of having had to pay a quarter million for her Christmas
carp and three million for the Christmas goose; and Lotte was worried
because she had received no news of Leo although she had hoped that he
would at least remember her with a Christmas card.
As they were reverentially consuming the costly fish, the doorbell
rang and the maid announced that a man had come to deliver something
personally to the young lady. Lotte hurried out, and the fur-coated man
who had something to deliver to her kissed her madly in the dark hall
before he pressed a tiny package into her hand and hurried away.
In the dining room Lotte unwrapped the little package and, from a
leather case, drew out a ring set with a magnificent pearl the size of
a hazelnut.
“A Christmas present from M. Henry Dufresne,” said Lotte, blushing
furiously; and as she drew the ring on her finger her young heart was
filled with infinite happiness.
The Hofrat, however, was quite taken aback, and declared categorically:
“But now, Lotte, this M. Dufresne must present himself at last, and ask
for your hand. For if such a ring is given to a girl it’s nothing less
than an engagement ring.”
Lotte laughed as she kissed her father.
“Only a little more patience! Leo--Henry says he’ll come to see you
very soon.”
But the mother shook her head again and thought:
“Queer times, queer children! She loves a man, forgets him, and then
confuses his name with that of his successor!”
In January a number of large consumers’ organizations united to hold
a mass meeting in the public auditorium of the City Hall with the
slogan: “We cannot go on!” Tens of thousands of people attended the
meeting, and in spite of the extraordinary cold, there stood before
the building enormous crowds for whom there was no room within.
The assembly presented a remarkable appearance. Leo Strakosch, who had
also come there, observed an unprecedented number of men with full
beards, and of cries of “Hail!” With a slightly different background he
could have supposed himself at an assembly of Tyrolese peasants in the
days of Andreas Hofer. The gentle sex was also very well represented,
but not by the most beautiful of its members in Vienna. Amid general
cheering the druggist, Dr. Njedestjenski, opened the meeting with
the declaration that things could go on thus no longer. He carefully
avoided any connection of the widespread poverty and high cost of
living with the expulsion of the Jews, but spoke in the most approved
Pan-German manner, averring that the cause of the pitiable ruin of
Vienna lay solely in the fact that Austria could not be annexed to
Germany. Whereupon a working-man interrupted, amid great hilarity:
“We can’t annex ourselves any more! Or do you think the Germans are as
silly as we, and will throw out their Jews?”
This wrecked the druggist’s train of thought; he stammered a little
more of German unity and national consciousness, shouted “Hail!” and
gave over the floor to the speakers of the evening. Whereupon the Jews
became almost the sole topic of discussion. And they were spoken of in
such a way that an uninitiated auditor would have believed Vienna to be
the most philo-Semitic city in the world. When a wine-dealer began to
speak in an anti-Jewish tone he was actually howled off the stage, and
when someone called: “We’d be better off if we’d learned from the Jews
instead of driving ’em out!” there was much applause. Leo could control
himself no longer. His heart beating wildly, he designated his wish
to speak, saying to himself as he mounted the platform: “Impudence,
stand by me!” He pretended to have an imperfect command of the German
language, emphasized over and over again that, as a Frenchman, he was
really not entitled to meddle in Austrian affairs; but, he said, his
love for this incomparably beautiful and charming city, a close second
to--if not the peer of--Paris, forced him to express his views. At
this the bearded portion of the audience felt flattered, while the
women were delighted by the slender young man, handsome in spite of his
imperial beard; and everybody shouted: “Hail!” Thereupon Leo continued
with his French accent:
“In Paris, too, we have very many Jews, good and bad, useful and
noxious. In any case, many of them deserve all respect, and are of
great value to the country. But it would never occur to any of us
to exile the Jews; instead, we all try to make use of their good
points. As this is not my home, I don’t know all the qualities of the
Viennese Jews. But I can say that in Paris I met very many exiles from
Vienna who made a splendid impression and who doubtless will be good
Frenchmen very soon. It is possible that there is a greater difference
between the Austrian Christians and the Jews than between the latter
and the more emotional and temperamental Frenchmen. But in that case
they should complement each other all the better. I hear that in
this country the Jews were reproached with controlling capital and
possessing more money, proportionately, than the Christian citizens.
Very good, ladies and gentlemen. But this merely goes to prove that
they think and act more quickly--and from such qualities a wise
government should be able to derive benefit for the community.”
Loud interjections from all sides: “Yes, indeed, a wise government--but
ours is stupid! He’s right! Hail! Hail!”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” continued Leo, smiling, “it really makes no
difference whether one likes the Jews or not. The yeast that is used
in the making of bread has a horrible taste--but bread cannot be made
without it. We must look at the Jews in a similar light. Yeast--not
very pleasant by itself, and harmful in excessive quantities--but
indispensable, in the right proportion, for our daily bread. And I
think your bread is refusing to rise for lack of yeast.
“Now, however, is not the time for arguments or for crying over spilled
milk, but for seeing what can be done about it. I don’t know what can
be done in Austria. Were such a contingency to arise in France the
people would insist on new elections, to show whether the country
is satisfied with conditions as they are, or whether they should be
changed.”
With these words Leo left the platform, and quickly became lost in the
crowd. The assembly, however, became fearfully excited. The words “new
elections” had struck the human mass as a spark might strike a keg of
dynamite; the huge auditorium shook, as thirty thousand throats shouted
these words, which found their way out on the street and became the
catch-word of the day.
In the editorial offices of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_ a conference of
the chief editors and confidential agents of the party was held
the next day; and for the first time in years it was resolved to
inaugurate again an active, energetic political campaign, and to
take this campaign out of the closed chamber and into the street.
The editor-in-chief of the _Arbeiter-Zeitung_, a former pen-cutter,
Wunderlich by name, who managed the heritage of Viktor Adler as best he
could, made the following pronouncement:
“We must adopt the slogan of this remarkable French painter, whose name
cannot possibly be Diefress, as the idiotic chairman had it. Beginning
right now we will voice incessantly a demand for new elections through
our papers, assemblies, and councils. And now we will put to work our
friends in France, Holland, Czechoslovakia, England, and America, and
induce them to do their utmost to have large amounts of kronen thrown
on the market. For if there is another appreciable fall of the krone,
and another rise of the now stationary cost of living--then the time is
ripe for us, and we will be able, if necessary, to use force to bring
about the dissolution of the National Assembly.”