FAITH AND SCIENCE OF PROGRESS.
Seraphin usually look an early ride with Carl. The banker was overjoyed
at the wager, about the winning of which he now felt absolute
certainty. He expressed himself confident that before long he would
have the pleasure of going over the road on the back of the best racer
in the country. "The noble animals," said he, "shall not be brought by
the railway; it might injure them. I shall send my groom for them to
Chateau Hallberg. He can ride the distance in two days."
Seraphin could not help smiling at his friend's solicitude for the
horses.
"Do not sell the bear's skin before killing the bear," answered he. "I
may not lose the horses, but may, on the contrary, acquire a pleasant
claim to twenty thousand florins."
"That is beyond all possibility," returned the banker. "Hans Shund is
now chief-magistrate, has been nominated to the legislature, and in a
few days will be elected. Mr. Hans will appear as a shining light
to-morrow, when he is to state his political creed in a speech to his
constituents. Of course, you and I shall go to hear him. Next will
follow his election, then my groom will hasten to Chateau Hallberg to
fetch the horses. Are you sorry you made the bet?"
"Not at all! I should regret very much to lose my span of bays. Still,
the bet will be of incalculable benefit to me. I will have learned
concerning men and manners what otherwise I could never have dreamed
of. In any event, the experience gained will be of vast service to me
during life.
"I am exceedingly glad to know it, my dear fellow," assured Greifmann.
"Your acquaintance with the present has been very superficial. You have
learned a great deal in a few days, and it is gratifying to hear you
acknowledge the fact."
The banker had not, however, caught Gerlach's meaning.
But for the wager, Seraphin would not have become acquainted with
Louise's intellectual standpoint. He would probably have married her
for the sake of her beauty, would have discovered his mistake when it
could not be corrected, and would have found himself condemned to spend
his life with a woman whose principles and character could only annoy
and give him pain. As it was, he was tormented by the fear that his
father might not coincide in his opinion of the young lady. What if the
old gentleman considered her hostility to religion as a mere
fashionable mania unsupported by inner conviction, a girlish whim
changeable like the wind, which with little effort might be made to
veer round to the point or the most unimpeachable orthodoxy? He had not
uttered a word condemning Louise's infatuation about Renan. On taking
leave he had parted with her in a friendly, almost hearty, manner,
proof sufficient that the young lady's doubtful utterances at tea had
not deceived him.
Upon reaching home, Gerlach sat in his room with his eyes thoughtfully
fixed upon a luminous square cast by the sun upon the floor. Quite
naturally his thoughts ran upon the marriage, and to the prospect of
having to maintain his liberty by hard contest with his inflexible
parent. He was unshaken in his resolution not to accede to the
projected alliance, and, when a will morally severe conceives
resolutions of this sort, they usually stand the hardest tests. So
absorbing were his reflections that he did not hear John announcing a
visitor. He nodded mechanically in reply to the words that seemed to
come out of the distance, and the servant disappeared.
Soon after a country girl appeared entrance of the room. In both hands
she was carrying a small basket made of peeled willows, quite new. A
snow-white napkin was spread over the basket. The girl's dress was
neat, her figure was slender and graceful. Her hair, which was wound
about the head in heavy plaits, was golden and encircled her forehead
as with a _nimbus_. Her features were delicate and beautiful, and she
looked upon the young gentleman with a pair of deep-blue eyes. Thus
stood she for an instant in the door of the apartment. There was a
smile about her mouth and a faint flush upon her cheeks.
"Good-morning, Mr. Seraphin!" said a sweet voice.
The youth started at this salutation and looked at the stranger with
surprise. She was just then standing on the sunlit square, her hair
gleamed like the purest gold, and a flood of light streamed upon her
youthful form. He did not return the greeting. He looked at her as if
frightened, rose slowly, and bowed in silence.
"My father sends some early grapes which he begs you to have the
goodness to accept."
She drew nearer, and he received the basket from her hand.
"I am very thankful!" said he. And, raising the napkin, the delicious
fruit smiled in his face. "These are a rarity this season. To whom am I
indebted for this friendly attention?"
"The obligation is all on our side, Mr. Seraphin," she replied
trustfully to the generous benefactor of her family. "Father is sorry
that he cannot offer you something better."
"Ah! you are Holt's daughter?"
"Yes, Mr. Seraphin."
"Your name is Johanna, is it not?"
"Mechtild, Mr. Seraphin."
"Will you be so good as to sit down?" And he pointed her to a sofa.
Mechtild, however, drew a chair and seated herself.
He had noted her deportment, and could not but marvel at the graceful
action, the confiding simplicity, and well-bred self-possession of the
extraordinary country girl. As she sat opposite to him, she looked so
pure, so trusting and sincere, that his astonishment went on
increasing. He acknowledged to himself never to have beheld eyes whose
expression came so directly from the heart--a heart whose interior must
be equally as sunny and pure.
"How are your good parents?"
"They are very well, Mr. Seraphin. Father has gone to work with renewed
confidence. The sad--ah! the terrible period is past. You cannot
imagine, Mr. Seraphin, how many tears you have dried, how much misery
you have relieved!"
The recollection of the ruin that had been hanging over her home
affected her painfully; her eyes glistened, and tears began to roll
down her cheeks. But she instantly repressed the emotion, and exhibited
a beautiful smile on her face. Seraphin's quick eye had observed both
the momentary feeling, and that she had resolutely checked it in order
not to annoy him by touching sorrowful chords. This trait of delicacy
also excited the admiration of the gentleman.
"Your father is not in want of employment?" he inquired with interest.
"No, sir! Father is much sought on account of his knowledge of farming.
Persons who have ground, but no team of their own, employ him to put in
crops for them."
"No doubt the good man has to toil hard?"
"That is true, sir; but father seems to like working, and we children
strive to help him as much as we can."
"And do you like working?"
"I do, indeed, Mr. Seraphin. Life would be worthless if one did not
labor. Man's life on earth is so ordered as to show him that he must
labor. Doing nothing is abominable, and idleness is the parent of many
vices."
Another cause of astonishment for the millionaire. She did not converse
like an uneducated girl from the country. Her accurate, almost choice
use of words indicated some culture, and her concise observations
revealed both mind and reflection. He felt a strong desire to fathom
the mystery--to cast a glance into Mechtild's past history.
"Have you always lived at home, or have you ever been away at school?"
She must have detected something ludicrous in the question, for
suddenly a degree of archness might be observed in her amiable smile.
"You mean, whether I have received a city education? No, sir! Father
used to speak highly of the clearness of my mind, and thought I might
even be made a teacher. But he had not the means to give me the
necessary amount of schooling. Until I was fourteen years old, I went
to school to the nuns here in town. I used to come in of mornings and
go back in the evening. I studied hard, and father and mother always
had the satisfaction of seeing me rewarded with a prize at the
examinations. I am very fond of books, and make good use of the convent
library. On Sundays, after vespers, I wait till the door of the
book-room is opened. I still spend my leisure time in reading, and on
Sundays and holidays I know no greater pleasure than to read nice
instructive books. At my work I think over what I have read, and I
continue practising composition according to the directions of the good
ladies of the convent."
"And were you always head at school?"
"Yes," she admitted, with a blush.
"You have profited immensely by your opportunities," he said
approvingly. "And the desire for learning has not yet left you?"
"This inordinate craving still continues to torment me," she
acknowledged frankly.
"Inordinate--why inordinate?"
"Because, my station and calling do not require a high degree of
culture. But it is so nice to know, and it is so nice to have refined
intercourse with each others. For seven years I admired the elegant
manners of the convent ladies, and I learned many a lesson from them."
"How old are you now?"
"Seventeen, Mr. Seraphin."
"What a pity you did not enter some higher educational institution!"
said he.
A pause followed. He looked with reverence upon the artless girl whom
God had so richly endowed, both in body and mind, Mechtild rose.
"Please accept, also, my most heartfelt thanks for your generous aid,"
she said, with emotion, "All my life long I shall remember you before
God, Mr. Seraphin. The Almighty will surely repay you what alas! we
cannot."
She made a courtesy, and he accompanied her through all the apartments
as far as the front door. Here the girl, turning, bowed to him once
more and went away.
Returning to his room, Seraphin stood and contemplated the grapes.
Strongly did the delicious fruit tempt him, but he touched not one. He
then pulled out a drawer, and hid the gifts as though it were a costly
treasure. For the rest of the day, Mechtild's bright form hovered near
him, and the sweet charm of her eyes, so full of soul, continually
worked on his imagination. When he again went into Louise's company,
the grace and innocence of the country girl gained ground in his
esteem. Compared with Mechtild's charming naturalness, Louise's manner
appeared affected, spoiled; through evil influences. The difference in
the expression of their eyes struck him especially. In Louise's eyes
there burned a fierce glow at times, which roused passion and stirred
the senses. Mechtild's neither glowed nor flashed; but from their
limpid depths beamed goodness so genuine and serenity so unclouded,
that Seraphin could compare them to nothing but two heralds of peace
and innocence. Louise's eyes, thought he, flash like two meteors of the
night; Mechtild's beam like two mild suns in a cloudless sky of spring.
As often as he entered the room where the grapes lay concealed, he
would unlock the drawer, examine the fragrant fruit, and handle the
basket which had been carried by her hands. He could not himself help
smiling at this childish action, and yet both great delicacy and deep
earnestness are manifested in honoring objects that have been touched
by pure hands, and in revering places hallowed by the presence of the
good.
Next morning the banker asked his guest to accompany him to the church
of S. Peter, where Hans Shund was to address a large gathering.
"In a church?" Gerlach exclaimed, with amazement.
"Don't get frightened, my good fellow. The church is no longer in the
service of religion. It has been _secularized_ by the state, and is
customarily used as a hall for dancing. There will be quite a crowd,
for several able speakers are to discuss the question of common
schools. The church has been chosen for the meeting on account of the
crowd."
The millionaires drove to the desecrated church. A tumultuous mass
swarmed about the portal. "Let us permit them to push us; we shall get
in most easily by letting them do so," said the banker merrily. Two
officious progressionists, recognizing the banker, opened a passage for
them through the throng. They reached the interior of the church, which
was now an empty space, stripped of every ornament proper to a house of
God. In the sanctuary could yet be seen, as if in mournful abandonment,
a large quadrangular slab, that had been the altar, and attached to one
of the side walls was an exquisite Gothic pulpit, which on occasions
like the present was used for a rostrum. Everywhere else reigned
silence and desolation.
The nave was filled by a motley mass. The chieftains of progress, some
elegantly dressed, others exhibiting frivolous miens and huge beards,
crowded upon the elevation of the chancel. All the candidates for the
legislature were present, not for the purpose of proving their
qualifications for the office--progress never troubled itself about
those--but to air their views on the subject of education. There were
speakers on hand of acknowledged ability in the discussion of the
doctrines of progress, who were to lay the result of their
investigations before the people.
Seraphia also noted some anxious faces in the crowd. They were
citizens, whose sons were alarmed at the thought of yielding up the
training of their children into the hands of infidelity. And near the
pulpit stood two priests, irreverently crowded against the wall,
targets for the scornful pleasantries of the wits of the mob. Leader
Schwefel was voted into the chair by acclamation. He thanked the
assembly in a short speech for the honor conferred, and then announced
that Mr. Till, member of the former assembly, would address the
meeting. Amid murmurs of expectation a short, fat gentleman climbed
into the pulpit. First a red face with a copper-tipped nose bobbed
above the ledge of the pulpit, next came a pair of broad shoulders,
upon which a huge head rested without the intermediary of a neck,
two puffy hands were laid upon the desk, and the commencement of a
well-rounded pauch could just be detected by the eye. Mr. Till, taking
two handfuls of his shaggy beard, drew them slowly through his fingers,
looked composedly upon the audience, and breathed hotly through mouth
and nostrils.
"Gentlemen," he began, with a voice that struggled out from a mass of
flesh and fat, "I am not given to many words, you know. What need is
there of many words and long speeches? We know what we want, and what
we want we will have in spite of the machinations of Jesuits and the
whinings of an ultramontane horde. You all know how I acquitted myself
at the last legislature, and if you will again favor me with your
suffrages, I will endeavor once more to give satisfaction. You know my
record, and I shall remain staunch to the last."
Cries of "Good!" from various directions.
"Gentlemen! if you know my record, you must also be aware that I am
passionately fond of the chase. I even follow this amusement in the
legislative hall. Our country abounds in a sort of black game, and for
me it is rare sport to pursue this species of game in the assembly."
A wild tumult of applause burst forth. Jeers and coarse witticisms were
bandied about on every side of the two clergymen, who looked meekly
upon these orgies of progress.
"Gentlemen!" Till continued, "the _blacks_ are a dangerous kind of wild
beast. They have heretofore been ranging in a preserve, feeding on the
fat of the land. That is an abuse that challenges the wrath of heaven.
It must be done away with. The beasts of prey that in the dark ages
dwelt in castles have long since been exterminated, and their rocky
lairs have been reduced to ruins. Well, now, let us keep up the chase
in both houses of the legislature until the last of these _black_
beasts is destroyed. Should you entrust to me again your interests, I
shall return to the seat of government, to aid with renewed energy in
ridding the land of these creatures that are enemies both of education
and liberty."
Amid prolonged applause the fat man descended. The chieftains shook him
warmly by the hand, assuring him that the cause absolutely demanded his
being reelected.
Gerlach was aghast at Till's speech. He hardly knew which deserved most
scorn, the vulgarity of the speaker or the abjectness of those who had
applauded him. Their wild enthusiasm was still surging through the
building, when Hans Shund mounted the pulpit. The chairman rang for
order; the tumult ceased. In mute suspense the multitude awaited the
great speech of the notorious usurer, thief, and debauchee. And indeed,
progress might well entertain great expectations, for Hans Shund had
read a pile of progressionist pamphlets, had extracted the strong
passages, and out of them had concocted a right racy speech. His speech
might with propriety have been designated the Gospel of Progress, for
Hans Shund had made capital of whatever freethinkers had lucubrated in
behalf of so-called enlightenment, and in opposition to Christianity.
The very appearance of the speaker gave great promise. His were not
coarse features and goggle eyes like Till's; his piercing feline eyes
looked intellectual. His face was rather pale, the result, no doubt, of
unusual application, and he had skilfully dyed his sandy hair. His
position as mayor of the city seemed also to entitle him to special
attention, and these several claims were enhanced by a white necktie,
white vest, and black cloth swallowtail coat.
"Gentlemen," began the mayor with solemnity, "my honorable predecessor
in this place has told you with admirable sagacity that the kernel of
every political question is of a religious character. Indeed, religion
is linked with every important question of the day, it is the _ratio
ultima_ of the intellectual movement of our times. Men of thought and
of learning are all agreed as to the condition to which our social life
should be and must be brought. The friends of the people are actively
and earnestly at work trying to further a healthy development of our
social and political status. Nor have their efforts been utterly
fruitless. Progress has made great conquests; yet, gentlemen, these
conquests are far from being complete. What is it that is most hostile
to liberalism in morals, to enlightenment, and to humanity? It is the
antiquated faith of departed days. Have we not heard the language of
the Holy Father in the Syllabus? But the Holy Father at Rome,
gentlemen, is no father of ours--happily he is the father only of
stupid and credulous men."
"Bravo! Well said!" resounded from the audience. Flaschen nudged
Spitzkopf, who sat next to him. "Shund is no mean speaker. Even that
fellow Voelk, of Bavaria, cannot compete with Shund."
"Gentlemen, our good sense teaches us to smile with pity at the
infallible declarations of yon Holy Father. We are firmly convinced
that papal decrees can no more stop the onward march of civilization
than they can arrest the heavenly bodies in their journeys about the
sun. 'Tis true, an [oe]cumenical council is lowering like a black
storm-cloud. But let the council meet; let it declare the Syllabus an
article of faith; it will never succeed in destroying the treasures of
independent thought which creative intellects have been hoarding up for
centuries among every people. Since men of culture have ceased to yield
unquestioning submission, like dumb sheep, to the church, they have
begun to discover that nowhere are so many falsehoods uttered as in
pulpits."
Tremendous applause, clapping, and swinging of hats, followed this
eloquent period. A distinguished gentleman, laying his hand upon Till's
shoulder, asked: "What calibre of ammunition do you use in hunting
_black_ game?"
"Conical balls of two centimetres," replied Till, with no great wit.
"Yon fellow in the pulpit fires shells of a hundredweight, I should
say. And if in the legislative assembly his shells all explode, not a
man of them will be left alive."
Till thought this witticism so good that he set up a loud roar of
laughter, that could be heard above the general uproar.
Stimulated by these marks of appreciation, Shund waxed still more
eloquent. "Gentlemen," cried he, "no body of men is more savagely
opposed to science and culture than a conventicle of so-called servants
of God. Were you to repeat the multiplication table several times over,
there would be as much prayer and sense in it as in what is designated
the Apostles' Creed."
More cheering and boundless enthusiasm. "Gentlemen!" exclaimed the
speaker, with thundering emphasis and a hideous expression of hatred on
his face, "the significance of religious dogmas is simply a sort of
hom[oe]opathic concoction to which every succeeding age contributes
some drops of fanaticism. Subjected to the microscope of science, the
whole basis of the Christian church evaporates into thin mist. We must
shield our children against religious fables. Away with dogmas and saws
from the Bible; away with the Trinity; the divinity and humanity of
Jesus, and other such stuff! Away with apothegms such as this: _Christ
is my life, my death, and my gain._ Such things are opposed to nature.
Children's minds are thereby warped to untruthfulness and hyprocrisy.
In this manner the child is deprived of the power of thinking; loses
all interest in intellectual pursuits, and ceases to feel the need of
further culture. The times are favorable for a reformation. Our
imperial and royal rulers have at length realized that minds must be
set free. For this end it was as unavoidable for them to break with the
church and priesthood as it is necessary for us. If we cherish our
fatherland and the people, we must take the initiative. We are not
striving to effect a revolution; we want intellectual development,
profounder knowledge, and healthier morality.
"Shall peace be seen beneath our skies,
The spirit's freedom first must rise,"
concluded the orator poetically, and he came down amidst a very
hurricane of applause.
There followed a lull. In the audience, heads protruded and necks were
stretched that their possessors might obtain a glimpse of the great
Shund. In the chancel, the chiefs and leaders crowded around him,
smiling, bowing, and shaking his hand in admiration.
"You have won the laurels," smirked a fellow from amidst a wilderness
of beard.
"Your election to the Assembly is a certainty," declared another.
"You carry deadly weapons against Christ," said a professor.
Mr. Hans smiled, and nodded so often that he was seized with a pain in
the muscles of the face and neck. At length, the chairman's bell came
to the rescue.
"The Rev. Mr. Morgenroth will now address the meeting."
The clergyman mounted the rostrum, but scarcely had he appeared there,
when the crowd became possessed by a legion of hissing demons.
"Gentlemen," began the fearless priest, "the duty of my calling as well
as personal conviction demands that I should enter a solemn protest
against the sundering of school and church."
Further the priest was not allowed to proceed. Loud howling, hissing,
and whistling drowned his voice. The president called for order.
"In the name of good-breeding, I beg this most honorable assembly to
hear the speaker out in patience," cried Mr. Schwefel.
The mob relaxed into unwilling silence like a growling beast.
"Not all the citizens of this town are affected with infidelity," the
reverend gentleman went on to say. "Many honorable gentlemen believe in
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and in his church. These citizens wish
their children to receive a religious education; it would, therefore,
be unmitigated terrorism, tyrannical constraint of conscience, to force
Christian parents to bring up their children in the spirit of
unbelief."
This palpable truth progress could not bear to listen to. A mad yell
was set up. Clenched fists were shaken at the clergyman, and fierce
threats thundered from all sides of the church. "Down with the priest!"
"Down with the accursed blackcoat!" "Down with the dog of a Jesuit!"
and similar exclamations resounded from all sides. The chairman rang
his bell in vain. The mob grew still more furious and noisy. The
clergyman was compelled to come down.
"Such is the liberty, the education, the tolerance, the humanity of
progress," said he sadly to his colleague.
Once more the bell of the chairman was heard amid the tumult.
"Mr. Seicht, officer of the crown, will now address the meeting,"
Schwefel announced.
The audience were seized with amazement, and not without a cause. A
dignitary of a higher order, a member of the administration, ascended
the pulpit for the purpose of making an assault upon Christian
education. He was about to make war upon morals and faith, the true
supports of every solid government, the sources of the moral sentiment
and of the prosperity of human society. A remnant of honesty and a
lingering sense of justice may have raised a protest in Seicht's
mind against his undertaking; for his bearing was anything but
self-possessed, and he had the appearance of a wretch that was being
goaded on by an evil spirit. Besides, he had the habit peculiar to
bureaucrats of speaking in harsh, snarling tones. Seicht was conscious
of these peculiarities of his bureaucratic nature, and labored to
overcome them. The effort imparted to his delivery an air of constraint
and a sickening sweetness which were climaxed by the fearfully involved
style in which his speech was clothed.
"Gentlemen," said Seicht, "in view of present circumstances, and in
consideration of the requirements of culture whose spirit is
incompatible with antiquated conditions, popular education, which in
connection with domestic training is the foundation of the future
citizen, must also undergo such changes as will bring it into harmony
with modern enlightened sentiment; and this is the more necessary as
the provisions of the law, which progress in its enlightenment and
clearness of perception cannot refuse to recognize as a fit model for
the imitation of a party dangerous to the state--I mean the party of
Jesuitism and ultramontranism--allow untrammelled scope for the
reformation of the school system, provided the proper clauses of the
law and the ordinances relating to this matter are not left out of
consideration. Accordingly, it is my duty to refer this honorable
meeting especially to the ministerial decree referring to common
schools, in accordance with which said common schools may be
established, after a vote of the citizens entitled to the elective
franchise, as soon as the need of this is felt; which in the present
instance cannot be contested, since public opinion has taken a decided
stand against denominational schools, in which youth is trained after
unbending forms of religion, and in doctrines that evidently conflict
with the triumph of the present, and with those exact sciences which
make up the only true gospel--the gospel of progress, which scarcely in
any respect resembles the narrow gospel of dubious dogmas--dubious for
the reason that they lack the spirit of advancement, and are
prejudicial to the investigation of the problems of a God, of material
nature, and of man."
Here leader Sand thrust his fingers in his ears.
"Thunder and lightning!" exclaimed he wrathfully, "what a shallow
babbler! What is he driving at? His periods are a yard long; and when
he has done, a man is no wiser than when he began. Gospel--gospel of
progress--fool--numskull--down! down!"
"Quite a remarkable instance, this!" said Gerlach to the banker.
"Evidently this man is trying might and main to please, yet he only
succeeds in torturing his hearers."
"I will explain this man to you," replied the banker. "Heretofore Mr.
Seicht has been a most complete exemplar of absolute bureaucracy. The
only divinity he knew were the statutes, the only heaven the bureau,
and the only safe way of reaching supreme felicity was, in his opinion,
to render unquestioning obedience to ministerial rescripts. Suddenly
Mr. Seicht heard the card-house of bureaucracy start in all its joints.
His divinity lost its worshippers, and his heaven lost all charms for
those who were seeking salvation. He felt the ground moving under him,
he realized the colossal might of progress, and hastened to commend
himself to this party by adopting liberal ideas. He is now aiming to
secure a seat in the house of delegates, which is subsequently to serve
him as a stepping-stone to a place in the cabinet. Just listen how the
man is agonizing! He is wasting his strength, however, and the attitude
of the audience is beginning to get alarming."
For some time past, the chieftains in the chancel had been shaking
their heads at the efforts of this official advocate of progress. To
avoid being tortured by hearing, they had engaged in conversation. The
auditors in the nave of the church were also growing restive. The
speaker, however, continued blind to every hint and insinuation. At
last a tall fellow in the crowd swung his hat and cried, "Three cheers
for Mr. Seicht!" The whole nave joined in a deafening cheer. Seicht,
imagining the cheering to be a tribute to the excellence of his effort,
stopped for a moment to permit the uproar to subside, intending then to
go on with his speech; but no sooner had he resumed than the cheering
burst forth anew, and was so vigorously sustained that the man, at
length perceiving the meaning of the audience, came down amid peals of
derisive laughter.
"Serves the gabbler right!" said Sand. "He's a precious kind of a
fellow! The booby thinks he can hoist himself into the chamber of
deputies by means of the shoulders of progress, and thence to climb up
higher. But it happens that we know whom we have to deal with, and we
are not going to serve as stirrups for a turn-coat official."
The chairman wound up with a speech in which he announced that the vote
on the question of common schools would soon come off, and then
adjourned the meeting.
The millionaires drew back to allow the crowd to disperse. Near them
stood Mr. Seicht, alone and dejected. The countenances of the
chieftains had yielded him no evidence on which to base a hope that his
speech had told, and that he might expect to occupy a seat in the
assembly. Moreover, Sand had rudely insulted the ambitious official to
his face. This he took exceedingly hard. All of a sudden, he spied the
banker in the chancel, and went over to greet him. Greifmann introduced
Gerlach.
"I am proud," Mr. Seicht asseverated, "of the acquaintance of the
wealthiest proprietor of the country."
"Pardon the correction, sir; my father is the proprietor."
"No matter, you are his only son," rejoined Seicht. "Your presence
proves that you take an interest in the great questions of the day.
This is very laudable."
"My presence, however, by no means proves that I concur in the object
of this meeting. Curiosity has led me hither."
The official directed a look of inquiry at the banker.
"Sheer curiosity," repeated this gentleman coldly.
"Can you not, then, become reconciled to the spirit of progress?" asked
Seicht, with a smile revealing astonishment.
"The value of my convictions consists in this, that I worship genuine
progress," replied the millionaire gravely. "The progress of this
community, in particular, looks to me like retrogression."
"I am astonished at what you say," returned the official; "for surely
Shund's masterly speech has demonstrated that we are keeping pace with
the age."
"I cannot see, sir, how fiendish hatred of religion can be taken for
progress. This horrible, bloodthirsty monster existed even in the days
of Nero and Tiberius, as we all know. Can the resurrection of it, now
that it has been mouldering for centuries, be seriously looked upon as
a step in advance? Rather a step backward, I should think, of eighteen
hundred years. Especially horrible and revolting is this latest
instance of tyranny, forcing parents who entertain religious sentiments
to send their children to irreligious schools. Not even Nero and
Tiberius went so far. On this point, I agree, there has been progress,
but it consists in putting a most unnatural constraint upon
conscience."
Gerlach's language aroused the official. He was face to face with an
ultramontane. The mere sight of such an one caused a nervous twitching
in his person. He resorted at once to bureaucratic weapons in making
his onslaught.
"You are mistaken, my dear sir--you are very much mistaken. The spirit
of the modern state demands that the schools of the multitude,
particularly public institutions, should be accessible to the children
of every class of citizens, without distinction of religious
profession. Consequently, the schools must be taken from under the
authority, direction, and influence of the church, and put entirely
under civil and political control. Such, too, is now the mind of our
rulers, besides that public sentiment calls for the change."
"But, Mr. Seicht, in making such a change, the state despotically
infringes on the province of religion."
"Not despotically, Mr. Gerlach, but legally; for the state is the
fountain-head of all right, and consequently possessed of unlimited
right."
"You enunciate principles, sir, which differ vastly from what morality
and religion teach."
"What signify morals--what signifies religion? Mere antiquated forms,
sir, with no living significance," explained Seicht, lavishly
displaying the treasures of the storehouse of progressionist wisdom.
"The past submitted quietly to the authority of religion, because there
existed then a low degree of intellectual culture. At present there is
only one authority--it is the preponderance of numbers and of material
forces. Consequently, the only real authority is the majority in power.
On the other hand, authorities based upon the supposed existence of a
supersensible world have lost their cause of being, for the reason that
exact science plainly demonstrates the nonexistence of an immaterial
world. _Cessante causa, cessat effectus_, the supersensible world, the
basis of religious authority, being gone, it logically results that
religious authority itself is gone. Hence the only real authority
existing in a state is the majority, and to this every citizen is
obliged to submit. You marvel, Mr. Gerlach. What I have said is not my
own personal view, but the expression of the principles which alone
pass current at the present day."
"I agree in what you say," said the banker. "You have spoken from the
standpoint of the times. The controlling power is the majority."
"Shund, then, accurately summed up the creed of the present age when he
said, 'Progress conquers death, destroys hell, rejects heaven, and
finds its god in the sweet enjoyment of life.' It is to be hoped that
all-powerful progress will next decree that there are no death and no
suffering upon earth, that all the hostile forces of nature have
ceased, that want and misery are no more, and that earth is a paradise
of sweet enjoyment for all."
Mr. Seicht was rather taken aback by this satire.
"Besides, gentlemen," proceeded Gerlach, "you will please observe that
the doctrine of state supremacy is a step backward of nearly two
thousand years. In Nero's day, but one source of right, namely, the
state, was recognized. In the head of the state, the emperor, were
centred all power, all authority, and all right. In his person, the
state was exalted into a divinity. Temples and altars were reared to
the emperor; sacrifices were offered to him; he was worshipped as a
deity. Even human sacrifices were not denied him if the imperial
divinity thought proper to demand them. And, now, to what condition did
these monstrous errors bring the world of that period? It became one
vast theatre of crime, immorality, and despotism. Slavery coiled itself
about men and things, and strangled their liberty. Matrimonial life
sank into the most loathsome corruption. Infanticide was permitted to
pass unpunished. The licentiousness of women was even greater than that
of men. Life and property became mere playthings for the whims of the
emperor and of his courtiers. Did the divine Caesar wish to amuse his
deeply sunken subjects, he had only to order the gladiators to butcher
one another, or some prisoners or slaves or Christians to be thrown to
tigers and panthers; this made a Roman holiday. Such, gentlemen, was
human society when it recognized no supersensible world, no God above,
no moral law. If our own progress proceeds much further in the path on
which it is marching, it will soon reach a similar fearful stage. We
already see in our midst the commencement of social corruption. We have
the only source of right proclaimed to be the divine state. Conscience
is being tyrannized over by a majority that rejects God and denies
future rewards and punishments. All the rest, even to the divine
despot, has already followed, or inevitably will follow. Therefore, Mr.
Seicht, the progress you so loudly boast of is mere stupid
retrogression, blind superstition, which falls prostrate before the
majority of a mob, and worships the omnipotence of the state."
"Don't you think my friend has been uttering some very bitter truths?"
asked the banker, with a smile.
"Pretty nearly so," replied the official demurely. "However, one can
detect the design, and cannot help getting out of humor."
"What design?" asked Seraphin.
"Of creating alarm against progress."
"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken. I, too, am enthusiastic about progress,
but genuine progress. And because I am an advocate of real progress I
cannot help detesting the monstrosity which the age would wish to palm
off on men instead."
The church was now cleared. Greifmann's carriage was at the door. The
millionaires drove off.
"Pity for this Gerlach!" thought the official, as he strode through the
street. "He is lost to progress, for he is too solidly rooted in
superstition to be reclaimed. War against nature's claims; deny healthy
physical nature its rights; re-establish terror of the seven capital
sins; permit the priesthood to tyrannize over conscience; restore the
worship of an unmathematical triune God--no! no!" cried he fiercely, "I
shall all go to the devil!"
A carriage whirled past him. He caste a glance into the vehicle, and
raised his hat to Mr. Hans Shund.
The chief magistrate was on his way home from the town-hall. He could
not rest under the weight of his laurels; the inebriation of his
triumph drove him into the room where sat his lonely and careworn wife.
"My election to the assembly is assured, wife." And he went on with a
minute account of the proceedings of the day.
The pale, emaciated lady sat bowed in silence over her work, and did
not look up.
"Well, wife, don't you take any interest in the honors won by your
husband? I should think you ought to feel pleased."
"All my joys are swallowed up in an abyss of unutterable wretchedness,"
replied she. "And my husband is daily deepening the gulf. Yesterday you
were again at a disreputable house. Your abominable deeds are heaped
mountain high--and am I to rejoice?"
"A thousand demons, wife, I'm beginning to believe you have spies on
foot!"
"I have not. But you are at the head of this city--your steps cannot
possibly remain unobserved."
"Very well!" cried he, "it shall be my effort in the assembly to bring
about such a change that there shall no longer be any houses of
disrepute. Narrow-minded moralists shall not be allowed to howl any
longer. The time is at hand, old lady--so-called disreputable houses
are to become places of amusement authorized by law."
He spoke and disappeared.