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.
Just then a spare little man appeared in the door. His yellowish,
sickly complexion gave evidence that he was employed in the
sulphurating of straw. At sight of the commander the sulphur-hued
little man shrank back, but his startled look did not escape the
restless eye of Mr. Schwefel. He beckoned to the laborer.
"Have you selected your ticket, Leicht?"
"Yes, sir."
"Let me see the ticket."
The man obeyed reluctantly. Scarcely had Schwefel got a glimpse of the
paper when his brows gathered darkly.
"What means this? Have you selected the yellow ticket and not the green
one?"
Leicht hung his head. He thought of the consequences of this detection,
of his four small children, of want of employment, of hunger and bitter
need--he was almost beside himself.
"If you vote for the priests, you may get your bread from the priests,"
said Schwefel. "The moment you hand that ticket to the commissary, you
may consider yourself discharged from my employ." With this he angrily
turned his back upon the man. Leicht did not reach in his ticket to the
commissary. Staggering out of the hall, he stood bewildered hear the
railing of the steps, and stared vaguely upon the men who were coming
and going. Spitzkopf slipped up to him.
"What were you thinking about, man?" asked he reproachfully. "Mr.
Schwefel is furious--you are ruined. Sheer stupidity, nothing but
stupidity in you to wish to vote in opposition to the pleasure of the
man from whom you get your bread and meat! Not only that, but you have
insulted the whole community, for you have chosen to vote against
progress when all the town is in favor of progress. You will be put on
the spotted list, and the upshot will be that you will not get
employment in any factory in town. Do you want to die of hunger,
man--do you want your children to die of hunger?"
"You are right--I am ruined," said the laborer listlessly. "I couldn't
bring myself to write Shund's name because he reduced my brother-in-law
to beggary--this is what made me select the yellow ticket."
"You are a fool. Were Mr. Schwefel to recommend the devil, your duty
would be to vote for the devil. What need you care who is on the
ticket? You have only to write the names on the ticket--nothing more
than that. Do you think progress would nominate men that are unfit--men
who would not promote the interests of the state, who would not further
the cause of humanity, civilization, and liberty? You are a fool for
not voting for what is best for yourself."
"I am sorry now, but it's too late." sighed Leicht. "I wouldn't have
thought, either, that Mr. Schwefel would get angry because a man wanted
to vote to the best of his judgment."
"There you are prating sillily again. Best of your judgment!--you
mustn't have any judgment. Leave it to others to judge; they have more
brains, more sense, more knowledge than you. Progress does the
thinking: our place is to blindly follow its directions."
"But, Mr. Spitzkopf, mine is only the vote of a poor man; and what
matters such a vote?"
"There is your want of sense again. We are living in a state that
enjoys liberty. We are living in an age of intelligence, of moral
advancement, of civilization and knowledge, in a word, we are living in
an age of progress; and in an age of this sort the vote of a poor man
is worth as much as that of a rich man."
"If only I had it to do over! I would give my right hand to have it to
do over!"
"You can repair the mischief if you want."
"Instruct me how, Mr. Spitzkopf; please tell me how!"
"Very well, I will do my best. As you acted from thoughtlessness and no
bad intention, doubtless Mr. Schwefel will suffer himself to be
propitiated. Go down into the court, and wait till I come. I shall get
you another ticket; you will then vote for progress, and all will be
satisfactory."
"I am a thousand times obliged to you, Mr. Spitzkopf--a thousand times
obliged!"
The agent went back to the hall. Leicht descended to the courtyard,
where he found a ring of timid operators like himself surrounding the
sturdy Holt. They were talking in an undertone. As often as a
progressionist drew near, their conversation was hushed altogether.
Holt's voice alone resounded loudly through the court, and his huge
strong hands were cutting the air in animated gesticulations.
"This is not a free election; it is one of compulsion and violence,"
cried he. "Every factoryman is compelled to vote as his employer
dictates, and should he refuse the employer discharges him from the
work. Is not this most despicable tyranny! And these very tyrants of
progress are perpetually prating about liberty, independence,
civilization! That's a precious sort of liberty indeed!"
"A man belonging to the ultramontane party cannot walk the streets
to-day without being hooted and insulted," said another. "Even up
yonder in the hall, those gentlemen who are considered so cultivated
stick their heads together and laugh scornfully when one of us draws
near."
"That's so--that's so, I have myself seen it," cried Holt. "Those
well-bred gentlemen show their teeth like ferocious dogs whenever they
see a yellow ticket or an ultramontane. I say, Leicht, has anything
happened you? You look wretched!" Leicht drew near and related what had
occurred. The honest Holt's eyes gleamed like coals of fire.
"There's another piece of tyranny for you," cried he. "Leicht, my poor
fellow, I fancy I see in you a slave of Schwefel's. From dawn till late
you are compelled to toil for the curmudgeon, Sundays not excepted.
Your church is the factory, your religion working in straw, and your
God is your sovereign master Schwefel. You are ruining your health amid
the stench of brimstone, and not so much as the liberty of voting as
you think fit is allowed you. It's just as I tell you--you factorymen
are slaves. How strangely things go on in the world! In America slavery
has been abolished; but lo! here in Europe it is blooming as freshly as
trees in the month of May. But mark my word, friends, the fruit is
deadly; and when once it will have ripened, the great God of heaven
will shake it from the trees, and the generation that planted the trees
will have to eat the bitter fruit."
Leicht shunned the society of the ultramontanes and stole away.
Presently Spitzkopf appeared with the ticket.
"Your ticket is filled out. Come and sign your name to it." Schwefel
was again standing near the entrance, and he again beckoned the laborer
to approach. "I am pacified. You may now continue working for me."
Carl and Seraphin returned to the Palais Greifmann. Louise received
them with numerous questions. The banker related what had passed;
Gerlach strode restlessly through the apartment.
"The most curious spectacle must have been yourself," said the young
lady. "Just fancy you on the rostrum at the 'Key of Heaven'! And very
likely the ungrateful ultramontanes would not so much as applaud."
"Beg pardon, they did, miss!" assured Seraphin. "They applauded and
cried bravo."
"Really? Then I am proud of a brother whose maiden speech produced such
marvellous effects. May be we shall read of it in the daily paper.
Everybody will be surprised to hear of the banker Greifmann making a
speech at the 'Key of Heaven.'" Carl perceived the irony and stroked
his forehead.
"But what can you be pondering over, Mr. Seraphin?" cried she to him.
"Since returning from the turmoil of the election, you seem unable to
keep quiet." He seated himself at her side, and was soon under the
spell of her magical attractions.
"My head is dizzy and my brain confused," said he. "On every hand I see
nothing but revolt against moral obligation, sacrilegious disregard of
the most sacred rights of man. The hubbub still resounds in my ears,
and my imagination still sees those fat men at the table with their
slaveholder look--the white slaves doing their masters' bidding--the
completest subjugation in an age of enlightenment--all this presents
itself to me in the most repulsive and lamentable guise."
"You must drive those horrible phantoms from your mind," replied
Louise.
"They are not phantoms, but the most fearful reality."
"They are phantoms, Mr. Seraphin, so far as your feelings exaggerate
the evils. Those factory serfs have no reason to complain. There is
nothing to be done but to put up with a situation that has
spontaneously developed itself. It is useless to grow impatient because
difference of rank between masters and servants is an unavoidable evil
upon earth." A servant entered to call them to dinner.
At her side he gradually became more cheerful. The brightness of her
eyes dispelled his depression, and her delicate arts put a spell upon
his young, inexperienced heart. And when, at the end of the meal, they
were sipping delicious wine, and her beautiful lips lisped the
customary health, the subdued tenderness he had been feeling suddenly
expanded into a strong passion.
"After you will have done justice to your diary," said she at parting,
"we shall take a drive, and then go to the opera."
Instead of going to his room, Seraphin went into the garden. He almost
forgot the occurrences of the day in musing on the inexplicable
behavior of Louise. Again she had not uttered a word of condemnation of
the execrable doings of progress, and it grieved him deeply. A
suspicion flitted across his mind that perhaps Louise was infected with
the frivolous and pernicious spirit of the age, but he immediately
stifled the terrible suggestion as he would have hastened to crush a
viper that he might have seen on the path of the beautiful lady. He
preferred to believe that she suppressed her feelings of disgust out of
regard for his presence, that she wisely avoided pouring oil upon the
flames of his own indignation. Had she not exerted herself to dispel
his sombre reflections? He was thus espousing the side of passion
against the appalling truth that was beginning faintly to dawn upon his
anxious mind.
But soon the spell was to be broken, and duty was to confront him with
the alternative of either giving up Louise, or defying the stern
demands of his conscience.
The brother and sister, thinking their guest engaged with his diary,
walked into the garden. They directed their steps towards the arbor
where Gerlach had seated himself.
He was only roused to consciousness of their proximity by the unusually
loud and excited tone in which Louise spoke. He could not be mistaken;
it was the young lady's voice--but oh! the import of her words. He
looked through an opening in the foliage, and sat thunderstruck.
"You have been attempting to guide Gerlach's overexalted spirit into a
more rational way of thinking, but the very opposite seems to be the
result. Intercourse with the son of a strait-laced mother is infecting
you with sympathy for ultramontanism. Your speech to-day," continued
she caustically, "in yon obscure meeting is the subject of the talk of
the town. I am afraid you have made yourself ridiculous in the minds of
all cultivated people. The respectability of our family has suffered."
"Of our family?" echoed he, perplexed.
"We are compromitted," continued she with excitement. "You have given
our enemies occasion to set us down for members of a party who stupidly
oppose the onward march of civilization."
"Cease your philippic," broke in the brother angrily. "Bitterness is an
unmerited return for my efforts to serve you."
"To serve me?"
"Yes, to serve you. The disturbing of that meeting made a very
unfavorable impression on your intended. He scorned the noisy mob, and
was roused by what, from his point of view, could not pass for anything
better than unpardonable impudence. To me it might have been a matter
of indifference whether your intended was pleased or displeased with
the fearless conduct of progress. But as I knew both you and the family
felt disposed to base the happiness of your life on his couple of
millions, as moreover I feared my silence might be interpreted by the
shortsighted young gentleman for complicity in progressionist ideas, I
was forced to disown the disorderly proceeding. In so doing I have not
derogated one iota from the spirit of the times; on the contrary, I
have bound a heavy wreath about the brow of glorious humanity."
"But you have pardoned yourself too easily," proceeded she, unappeased.
"The very first word uttered by a Greifmann in that benighted assembly
was a stain on the fair fame of our family. We shall be an object of
contempt in every circle. 'The Greifmanns have turned ultramontanes
because Gerlach would have refused the young lady's hand had they not
changed their creed,' is what will be prated in society. A flood of
derision and sarcasm will be let loose upon us. I an ultramontane?"
cried she, growing more fierce; "I caught in the meshes of religious
fanaticism? I accept the Syllabus--believe in the Prophet of Nazareth?
Oh! I could sink into the earth on account of this disgrace! Did I for
an instant doubt that Seraphin may be redeemed from superstition and
fanaticism, I would renounce my union with him--I would spurn the
tempting enjoyments of wealth, so much do I hate silly credulity."
Seraphin glanced at her through the gap in the foliage. Not six paces
from him, with her face turned in his direction, stood the infuriate
beauty. How changed her countenance! The features, habitually so
delicate and bright, now looked absolutely hideous, the brows were
fiercely knit, and hatred poured like streams of fire from her eyes.
Sentiments hitherto skilfully concealed had taken visible shape, ugly
and repulsive to the view of the innocent youth. His noble spirit
revolted at so much hypocrisy and falsehood. What occurred before him
was at once so monstrous and so overwhelming that he did not for an
instant consider that in case they entered the arbor he would be
discovered. He was not discovered, however. Louise and Carl retraced
their steps. For a short while the voice of Louise was still audible,
then silence reigned in the garden.
Seraphin rose from his seat. There was a sad earnestness in his face,
and the vanishing traces of deep pain, which however were soon
superseded by a noble indignation.
"I have beheld the genuine Louise, and I thank God for it. It is as I
feared, Louise is a progressionist, an infidel that considers it
disgraceful to believe in the Redeemer. Out upon such degeneracy! She
hates light, and how hideous this hatred makes her. Not a feature was
left of the charming, smiling, winning Louise. Good God! how horrible
had her real character remained unknown until after we were married!
Chained for life to the bitter enemy of everything that I hold dear and
venerate as holy--think of it! With eyes bandaged, I was but two paces
from an abyss that resembles hell--thank God! the bandage has fallen--I
see the abyss, and shudder.
"'The ultramontane Seraphin'--'the fanatical Gerlach'--'the
shortsighted Gerlach,' whose fortune the young lady covets that she may
pass her life in enjoyment--a heartless girl, in whom there is not a
spark of love for her intended husband--how base!
"'Ultramontane'?--'fanatical'?--yes! 'Shortsighted?' by no means. One
would need the suspicious eyes of progress to see through the hypocrisy
of this lady and her brother--a simple, trusting spirit like mine
cannot penetrate such darkness. At any rate, they shall not find me
weak. The little flame that was beginning to burn within my heart has
been for ever extinguished by her unhallowed lips. She might now
present herself in the garb of an angel, and muster up every seductive
art of womanhood, 'twould not avail; I have had an insight into her
real character, and giving her up costs me not a pang. It is not hollow
appearances that determine the worth of woman, but moral excellence,
beautiful virtues springing from a heart vivified by faith. No, giving
her up shall not cost me one regretful throb."
He hastened from the garden to his room and rang the bell.
"Pack my trunks this very day, John," said he to his servant. "Tomorrow
we shall be off."
He then entered in his diary a circumstantial account of the unmasked
beauty. He also dwelt at length upon the painful shock his heart
experienced when the bright and beautiful creature he had considered
Louise to be suddenly vanished before his soul. As he was finishing the
last line, John reappeared with a telegraphic despatch. He read it, and
was stunned.
"Meet your father at the train this evening." He looked at the concise
despatch, and fancied he saw his father's stern and threatening
countenance.
The contemplated match had for several years been regarded by the
families of Gerlach and Greifmann as a fixed fact. Seraphin was aware
how stubbornly his father adhered to a project that he had once set his
mind upon. Here now, just as the union had became impossible and as the
youth was about to free himself for ever from an engagement that was
destructive of his happiness, the uncompromising sire had to appear to
enforce unconditional obedience to his will. A fearful contest awaited
Seraphin, unequal and painful; for a son, accustomed from childhood to
revere and obey his parents, was to maintain this contest against his
own father. Seraphin paced the room and wrung his hands in anguish.