PROGRESS GROWS JOLLY.
The agitators of progress were again hurrying through the streets and
alleys of the town. They knocked at every door and entered every house
to solicit votes in favor of common schools. Thanks to the overwhelming
might of the party in power, they again carried their measure.
Dependent, utterly enslaved, many yielded up their votes without
opposition. It is true conscience tortured many a parent for voting
against his convictions, for sacrificing his children to a system with
which he could not sympathize; but not a man in a dependent position
had the courage to vindicate for his child the religious training which
was being so ruthlessly swept away. Even men in high office gave way
before the encroaching despotism, for in the very uppermost ranks of
society also progress domineered.
One man only, fearless and firm, dared to put himself in the path of
the dominant power--the Rev. F. Morgenroth. From the pulpit, he
unmasked and scathed the unchristian design of debarring youth from
religious instruction, and of rearing a generation ignorant of God and
of his commandments. He warned parents against the evil, entreated them
to stand up conscientiously for the spiritual welfare of their
children, to reject the common schools, and to rescue the little ones
for the maternal guardianship of the church.
His sermon roused the entire progressionist camp. The local press
fiercely assailed the intrepid clergyman. Lies, calumnies, and
scurrility were vomited against him and his profession. Hans Shund
seized the pen, and indited newspaper articles of such a character as
one would naturally look for from a thief, usurer, and debauchee.
Morgenroth paid no attention to their disgraceful clamor, but continued
his opposition undismayed. By means of placards, he invited the
Catholic citizens to assemble at his own residence, for the purpose of
consulting about the best mode of thwarting the designs of the
liberals. This unexpected fearlessness put the men of culture,
humanity, and freedom beside themselves with rage. They at once decided
upon making a public demonstration. The chieftains issued orders to
their bands, and these at the hour appointed for the meeting mustered
before the residence of the priest. A noisy multitude, uttering
threats, took possession of the churchyard. If a citizen attempted to
make his way through the mob to the house, he was loaded with vile
epithets, at times even with kicks and blows. But a small number had
gathered around the priest, and these showed much alarm; for outside
the billows of progress were surging and every moment rising higher.
Stones were thrown at the house, and the windows were broken.
Parteiling, the commissary of police, came to remonstrate with the
clergyman.
"Dismiss the meeting," said he. "The excitement is assuming alarming
proportions."
"Commissary, we are under the protection of the law and of civil rule,"
replied Morgenroth. "We are not slaves and helots of progress. Are we
to be denied the liberty of discussing subjects of great importance in
our own houses?"
A boulder coming through the window crushed the inkstand on the table,
and rolled on over the floor. The men pressed to one side in terror.
"Your calling upon the law to protect you is utterly unreasonable under
present circumstances," said Parteiling. "Listen to the howling. Do you
want your house demolished? Do you wish to be maltreated? Will you have
open revolution? This all will surely follow if you persist in refusing
to dismiss the meeting. I will not answer for results."
Stones began to rain more densely, and the howling grew louder and more
menacing.
"Gentlemen," said Morgenroth to the men assembled, "since we are not
permitted to proceed with our deliberations, we will separate, with a
protest against this brutal terrorism."
"But, commissary," said a much frightened man, "how are we to get away?
These people are infuriated; they will tear us in pieces."
"Fear nothing, gentlemen; follow me," spoke the commissary, leading the
way.
The ultramontanes were hailed with a loud burst of scornful laughter.
The commissary, advancing to the gate, beckoned silence.
"In the name of the law, clear the place!" cried he.
The mob scoffed and yelled.
"Fetch out the slaves of the priest--make them run the gauntlet--down
with the Jesuits!"
At this moment, a man was noticed elbowing his way through the crowd;
presently Hans Shund stepped before the embarrassed guardian of public
order.
"Three cheers for the magistrate!" vociferated the mob.
Shund made a signal. Profound silence followed.
"Gentlemen," spoke the chief magistrate, in a tone of entreaty, "have
goodness to disperse."
Repeated cheers were raised, then the accumulation of corrupt elements
began to dissolve and flow off into every direction.
"I deeply regret this commotion of which I but a moment ago received
intelligence," said Shund. "The excitement of the people is
attributable solely to the imprudent conduct of Morgenroth."
"To be sure--to be sure!" assented Parteiling.
The place was cleared. The Catholics hurried home pursued and hooted by
straggling groups of rioters.
The signs of the approaching celebration began to be noticeable on the
town-common. Booths were being erected, tables were being disposed in
rows which reached further than the eye could see, wagon-loads of
chairs and benches were being brought from all parts of town, men were
busy sinking holes for climbing-poles and treacherous turnstiles; but
the most attractive feature of all the festival was yet invisible--free
beer and sausages furnished at public cost. The rumor alone, however,
of such cheer gladdened the heart of every thirsty voter, and
contributed greatly to the establishment of the system of common
schools. Bands of music paraded the town, gathered up voters, and
escorted them to the polls. As often as they passed before the
residence of a progressionist chieftain, the bands struck up an air,
and the crowd cheered lustily. They halted in front of the priest's
residence also. The band played, "Today we'll taste the parson's
cheer," the mob roaring the words, and then winding up with whistling
and guffaws of laughter. This sort of disorderly work was kept up
during three days. Then was announced in the papers in huge type: "An
overwhelming majority of the enlightened citizens of this city have
decided in favor of common schools. Herewith the existence of these
schools is secured and legalized."
On the fourth day, the celebration came off. The same morning Gerlach
senior arrived at the Palais Greifmann on his way home from the
Exposition.
"I am so glad!" cried Louise. "I was beginning to fear you would not
come, and getting provoked at your indifference to the interests of our
people. We have been having stirring times, but we have come off
victorious. The narrow-minded enemies of enlightenment are defeated.
Modern views now prevail, and education is to be remodelled and put in
harmony with the wants of our century."
"Times must have been stirring, for you seem almost frenzied, Louise,"
said Conrad.
"Had you witnessed the struggle and read the newspapers, you, too,
would have grown enthusiastic," declared the young lady.
"Even quotations advanced," said the banker. "It astonished me, and
I can account for it only by assuming that the triumph of the
common-school system is of general significance and an imperative
desideratum of the times."
"How can you have any doubt about it?" cried his sister. "Our town has
pioneered the way: the rest of Germany will soon adopt the same
system."
Seraphin greeted his father.
"Well, my son, you very likely have heard nothing whatever of this
hubbub about schools?"
"Indeed, I have, father. Carl and I were in the midst of the commotion
at the desecrated church of S. Peter. We saw and heard what it would
have been difficult to imagine." He then proceeded to give his father a
minute account of the meeting. His powerful memory enabled him to
repeat Shund's speech almost verbatim. The father listened attentively,
and occasionally directed a glance of observation at the young lady.
When Shund's coarse ridicule of Christian morals and dogmas was
rehearsed, Mr. Conrad lowered his eyes, and a frown flitted over his
brow. For the rest, his countenance was, as usual, cold and stern.
"This Mr. Shund made quite a strong speech," said he, in a nonchalant
way.
"He rather intensified the colors of truth, 'tis true," remarked
Louise. "The masses, however, like high coloring and vigorous
language."
A servant brought the banker a note.
"Good! Shund is elected to the assembly! The span of bays belongs to
me," exulted Carl Greifmann.
"Your bays Seraphin?" inquired the father. "How is this?"
Mr. Conrad had twice been informed of the wager; he had learned it
first from Seraphin's own lips, then also he had read of it in his
diary; still he asked again, and his son detailed the story a third
time.
"I should sooner have expected to see the heavens fall than to lose
that bet," added Seraphin.
"When a notorious thief and usurer is elected to the chief magistracy
and to the legislative assembly, the victory gained is hardly a
creditable one to the spirit of progress, my dear Carl. Don't you think
so, Louise?" said the landholder.
"You mustn't be too rigorous," replied the lady, with composure. "Rumor
whispers many a bit of scandal respecting Shund which does, indeed,
offend one's sense of propriety; for all that, however, Shund will play
his part brilliantly both in the assembly and in the town council. The
greatest of statesmen have had their foibles, as everybody knows."
"Very true," said Gerlach dryly. "Viewed from the standpoint of very
humane tolerance, Shund's disgusting habits may be considered
justifiable."
Seraphin left the parlor, and retired to his room. Here he wrestled
with violent feelings. His father's conduct was a mystery to him.
Opinions which conflicted with his own most sacred convictions, and
principles which brought an indignant flush to his cheek, were listened
to and apparently acquiesced in by his father. Shund's abominable
diatribe had not roused the old gentleman's anger; Louise's avowed
concurrence with the irreligious principles of the chieftain had not
even provoked his disapprobation.
"My God, my God! can it be possible?" cried he in an agony of despair.
"Has the love of gain so utterly blinded my father? Can he have sunk so
low as to be willing to immolate me, his only child, to a base
speculation? Can he be willing for the sake of a million florins to
bind me for life to this erring creature, this infidel Louise? Can a
paltry million tempt him to be so reckless and cruel? No! no! a
thousand times no!" exclaimed he. "I never will be the husband of this
woman, never--I swear it by the great God of heaven! Get angry with me,
father, banish me from your sight--it would be more tolerable than the
consciousness of being the husband of a woman who believes not in the
Redeemer of the world. I have sworn--the matter is for ever settled."
He threw himself into an arm-chair, and moodily stared at the opposite
wall. By degrees, his excitement subsided, and he became quiet.
In fancy, he beheld beside Louise's form another lovely one rise
up--that of the girl with the golden hair, the bright eyes, and the
winning smile. She had stood before him on this very floor, in her neat
and simple country garb, radiant with innocence and purity, adorned
with innate grace and uncommon beauty. And the lapse of days, far from
weakening, had deepened the impression of her first apparition. The
storm that had been raging in his interior was allayed by the
recollection of Mechtild, as the fury of the great deep subsides upon
the reappearance of the sun. Scarcely an hour had passed during which
he had not thought of the girl, rehearsed every word she had uttered,
and viewed the basket of grapes she had brought him. Again he pulled
out the drawer, and looked upon the gift with a friendly smile; then,
locking up the precious treasure, he returned to the parlor.
He found the company on the balcony. The sound of trumpets and drums
came from a distance, and presently a motley procession was seen coming
up the nearest street.
"You have just arrived in time to see the procession," cried Louise to
him. "It is going to defile past here, so we will be able to have a
good look at it."
A dusky swarm of boys and half-grown youths came winding round the
nearest street-corner, followed immediately by the head of a mock
procession. In the lead marched a fellow dressed in a brown cloak, the
hood of which was drawn over his head. His waist was encircled with a
girdle from which dangled a string of pebbles representing a rosary. To
complete the caricature of a Capuchin, his feet were bare, excepting a
pair of soles which were strapped to them with thongs of leather.
In his hands he bore a tall cross rudely contrived with a couple
of sticks. The image of the cross was represented by a broken
mineral-water bottle. Behind the cross-bearer followed the procession
in a double line, consisting of boys, young men, factory-hands, drunken
mechanics, and such other begrimed and besotted beings as progress
alone can count in its ranks. The members of the procession were
chanting a litany; at the same time they folded their hands, made
grimaces, turned their eyes upwards, or played unseemly pranks with
genuine rosary beads.
Next in the procession came a low car drawn by a watery-eyed mare which
a lad bedizened like a clown was leading by the bridle. In the car sat
a fat fellow whose face was painted red, and eyebrows dyed, and who
wore a long artificial beard. Over a prodigious paunch, also
artificial, he had drawn a long white gown, over which again he wore a
many-colored rag shaped like a cope. On his head he wore a high paper
cap, brimless; around the cap were three crowns of gilt paper to
represent the tiara of the pope. A sorry-looking donkey walked after
the car, to which it was attached by a rope. It was the _role_ of the
fellow in the car to address the donkey, make a sign of blessing over
it, and occasionally reach it straw drawn from his artificial paunch.
As often as he went through this man[oe]uvre, the crowd set up a
tremendous roar of laughter. The fat man in the car represented the
pope, and the donkey was intended to symbolize the credulity of the
faithful.
This mock pope was not a suggestion of Shund's or of any other
inventive progressionist. The whole idea was copied from a caricature
which had appeared in a widely circulating pictorial whose only aim and
pleasure it has been for years to destroy the innate religious
nobleness of the German people by means of shallow wit and vulgar
caricatures. And this very sheet, leagued with a daily organ equally
degraded, can boast of no inconsiderable success. The rude and vulgar
applaud its witticisms, the low and infamous regale themselves with its
pictures, and its demoralizing influence is infecting the land.
The principal feature of the procession was a wagon, hung with garlands
and bestuck with small flags, drawn by six splendid horses. In it sat a
youthful woman, plump and bold. Her shoulders were bare, the dress
being an exaggerated sample of the style _decollete_; above her head
was a wreath of oak leaves. She was attended by a number of young men
in masks. They carried drinking-horns, which they filled from time to
time from a barrel, and presented to the _bacchante_, who sipped from
them; then these gentlemen in waiting drank themselves, and poured what
was left upon the crowd. A band of music, walking in front of this
triumphal car, played airs and marches. Not even the mock pope was as
great an object of admiration as this shameless woman. Old and young
thronged about the wagon, feasting their lascivious eyes on this
beastly spectacle which represented that most disgusting of all
abominable achievements of progress--the emancipated woman. And perhaps
not even progress could have dared, in less excited times, so grossly
to insult the chaste spirit of the German people; but the social
atmosphere had been made so foul by the abominations of the election,
and the spirits of impurity had reigned so absolutely during the
canvass in behalf of common schools, that this immoral show was
suffered to parade without opposition.
The very commencement of this sacrilegious mockery of religion had
roused Seraphin's indignation, and he had retired from the balcony. His
father, however, had remained, coolly watching the procession as it
passed, and carefully noting Louise's remarks and behavior.
"What does that woman represent?" he asked. "A goddess of liberty, I
suppose?"
"Only in one sense, I think," replied the progressionist young lady.
"The woman wearing the crown symbolizes, to my mind, the enjoyment of
life. She typifies heaven upon earth, now that exact science has done
away with the heaven of the next world."
"I should think yon creature rather reminds one of hell," said Mr.
Conrad.
"Of hell!" exclaimed Louise, in alarm. "You are jesting, sir, are you
not?"
"Never more serious in my life, Louise. Notice the shameless
effrontery, the baseness and infamy of the creature, and you will be
forced to form conclusions which, far from justifying the expectation
of peace and happiness in the family circle, the true sphere of woman,
will suggest only wrangling, discord, and hell upon earth."
The young lady did not venture to reply. A gentleman made his way
through the crowd, and waved his hat to the company on the balcony. The
banker returned the salutation.
"Official Seicht," said he.
"What! an officer of the government in this disreputable crowd!"
exclaimed Gerlach, with surprise.
"He is on hand to maintain order," explained Greifmann. "You see some
policemen, too. Mr. Seicht sympathizes with progress. At the last
meeting, he made a speech in favor of common schools; he sounded the
praises of the gospel of progress, gave a toast at the banquet to the
gospel of progress, and has won for himself the title of evangelist of
progress. He once declared, too, that the very sight of a priest rouses
his blood, and they now pleasantly call him the parson-eater. He is
very popular."
"I am amazed!" said Gerlach. "Mr. Seicht dishonors his office. He
advocates common schools, insults all the believing citizens of his
district, and runs with mock processions--a happy state of things,
indeed!"
"His conduct is the result of careful calculation," returned Greifmann.
"By showing hostility to ultramontanism, he commends himself to
progress, which is in power."
"But the government should not tolerate such disgraceful behavior on
the part of one of its officials," said Gerlach. "The entire official
corps is disgraced so long as this shallow evangelist of progress is
permitted to continue wearing the uniform."
"You should not be so exacting," cried Louise. "Why will you not allow
officials also to float along with the current of progress until they
will have reached the Eldorado of the position to which they are
aspiring?"
"The corruption of the state must be fearful indeed, when such
deportment in an officer is regarded as a recommendation," rejoined Mr.
Conrad curtly.
A servant appeared to call them to table.
"Would you not like to see the celebration?" inquired Louise.
"By all means," answered Gerlach. "The excitement is of so unusual a
character that it claims attention. You will have to accompany us,
Louise."
"I shall do so with pleasure. When sound popular sentiment thus
proclaims itself, I cannot but feel a strong desire to be present."
The procession had turned the corner of a street where stood Holt and
two more countrymen looking on. The religious sentiment of these honest
men was deeply wounded by the profanation of the cross; and when,
besides, they heard the singing of the mock litany, their anger
kindled, their eyes gleamed, and they mingled fierce maledictions with
the tumult of the mob. Next appeared the mock pope, dispensing
blessings with his right hand, reaching straw to the donkey with his
left, and distorting his painted face into all sorts of farcical
grimaces.
The peasants at once caught the significance of this burlesque. Their
countenances glowed with indignation. Avenging spirits took possession
of Mechtild's father; his strong, stalwart frame seemed suddenly to
have become herculean. His fist of iron doubled itself; there was
lightning in his eyes; like an infuriated lion, he burst into the
crowd, broke the line of the procession, and, directing a tremendous
blow at the head of the mock pope, precipitated him from the car. The
paper cap flew far away under the feet of the bystanders, and the false
beard got into the donkey's mouth. When the mock pope was down. Holt's
comrades immediately set upon him, and tore the many-colored rag from
his shoulders. Then commenced a great tumult. A host of furious
progressionists surrounded the sturdy countrymen, brandishing their
fists and filling the air with mad imprecations.
"Kill the dogs! Down with the accursed ultramontanes!"
Some of the policemen hurried up to prevent bloodshed. Mr. Seicht also
hurried to the scene of action, and his shrill voice could be heard
high above the noise and confusion.
"Gentlemen, I implore you, let the law have its course, gentlemen!"
cried he. "Gentlemen, friends, do not, I beg you, violate the law!
Trust me, fellow-citizens--I shall see that the impertinence of these
ultramontanes is duly punished."
They understood his meaning. Sticks and fists were immediately lowered.
"Brigadier Forchhaem," cried Mr. Seicht, in a tone of
command--"Forchhaem, hither! Put handcuffs on these ultramontanes,
these disturbers of the peace--put irons on these revolutionists."
Handcuffs were forthwith produced by the policemen. The towering,
broad-shouldered Holt stood quiet as a lamb, looked with an air of
astonishment at the confusion, and suffered himself to be handcuffed.
His comrades, however, behaved like anything but lambs. They laid about
them with hands and feet, knocking down the policemen, and giving
bloody mouths and noses to all who came within their reach.
"Handcuff us!" they screamed, grinding their teeth, bleeding and
cursing. "Are we cutthroats?" The bystanders drew back in apprehension.
The confusion seemed to be past remedying. A thousand voices were
screaming, bawling, and crying at the same time; the circle around the
struggling countrymen was getting wider and wider; and when finally
they attempted to break through, the crowd took to flight, as if a
couple of tigers were after them.
Many of the spectators found a pleasurable excitement in watching the
battle between the policemen and the peasants; but they would not move
a finger to aid the officers of the law in arresting the culprits. They
admired the agility and strength of the countrymen, and the more fierce
the struggle became, the greater grew their delight, and the louder
their merriment.
Holt had been carried on with the motion of the crowd. When he dealt
the blow to the fellow in the car, he was beside himself with rage. The
genuine _furor teutonicus_ had taken possession of him so irresistibly
and so bewilderingly as to leave him utterly without any of the calm
judgment necessary to measure the situation. After his first adventure,
he had submitted to be handcuffed, and had watched the struggle between
Forchhaem and his own comrades in a sort of absence of mind. He had
stood perfectly quiet, his face had become pale, and his eyes looked
about strangely. The excitement of passion was now beginning to wear
off. He felt the cold iron of the manacles around his wrists, his eyes
glared, his face became crimson, the sinews of his powerful arm
stiffened, and with one great muscular convulsion he wrenched off the
handcuffs. Nobody had observed this sudden action, all eyes being
directed to the combatants. Shoving the part of the handcuff which
still hung to his wrist under the sleeve of his jacket, Holt
disappeared through the crowd.
The resistance of the peasants was gradually becoming fainter. At
length they succumbed to overpowering force, and were handcuffed.
"Where is the third one?" cried Seicht. "There were three of them."
"Where is the third one? There were three of them," was echoed on every
hand, and all eyes sought for the missing one in the crowd.
"The third one has run away, sir," reported Forchhaem.
"What's his name?" asked Seicht.
Nobody knew.
A street boy, looking up at the official, ingenuously cried, "'Twas a
Tartar."
Seicht looked down upon the obstreperous little informant.
"A Tartar--do you know him?"
"No; but these here know him," pointing to the captives.
"What is the name of your comrade?"
"We don't know him," was the surly reply.
"Never mind, he will become known in the judicial examination. Off to
jail with these rebellious ultramontanes," the official commanded.
Bound in chains, and guarded by a posse of police, these honest men,
whose religious sense had been so wantonly outraged as to have
occasioned an outburst of noble indignation, were marched through the
streets of the town and imprisoned. They were treated as criminals for
a crime, however, the guilt of which was justly chargeable to those
very rioters who were enjoying official protection.
The procession moved on to the ground selected for the barbecue. A
motley mass, especially of factory-men, were hard at work upon the
scene. The booths, spread far and wide over the common, were thrown
open, and around them moved a swarm of thirsty beings drawing rations
of beer and sausages, with which, when they had received them, they
staggered away to the tables. Degraded-looking women were also to be
seen moving about unsteadily with brimming mugs of beer in their hands.
There were several bands of music stationed at different points around
the place.
The chieftains of progress, perambulating the ground with an air of
triumph, bestowed friendly nods of recognition on all sides, and
condescendingly engaged in conversation with some of the rank and file.
Hans Shund approached the awning where the woman with the bare
shoulders and indecent costume had taken a seat. She had captivated the
gallant chief magistrate, who hovered about her as a raven hovers over
a dead carcass. Moving off, he halted within hearing distance, and,
casting frequent glances back, addressed immodest jokes to those who
occupied the other side of the table, at which they laughed and
applauded immoderately.
The men whom Seraphin had met in the subterranean den, on the memorable
night before the election, were also present: Flachsen, Graeulich,
Koenig, and a host of others. They were regaling themselves with
sausages which omitted an unmistakable odor of garlic, and were of a
very dubious appearance; interrupting the process of eating with
frequent and copious draughts from their beer-mugs.
"Drink, old woman!" cried Graeulich to his wife. "Drink, I tell you! It
doesn't cost us anything to-day."
The woman put the jug to her lips and drained it manfully. Other women
who were present screamed in chorus, and the men laughed boisterously.
"Your old woman does that handsomely," applauded Koth. "Hell and
thunder! But she must be a real spitfire."
Again they laughed uproariously.
"I wish there were an election every day, what a jolly life this would
be!" said Koenig. "Nothing to do, eating and drinking gratis--what more
would you wish?"
"That's the way the bigbugs live all the year round. They may eat and
drink what they like best, and needn't do a hand's turn. Isn't it
glorious to be rich?" cried Graeulich.
"So drink, boys, drink till you can't stand! We are all of us big-bugs
to-day."
"And if things were regulated as they should be," said Koth, "there
would come a day when we poor devils would also see glorious times. We
have been torturing ourselves about long enough for the sake of others.
I maintain that things will have to be differently regulated."
"What game is that you are wishing to come at? Show your hand, old
fellow!" cried several voices.
"Here's what I mean: Coffers which are full will have to pour some of
their superfluity into coffers which are empty. You take me, don't
you?"
"'Pon my soul, I can't make you out. You are talking conundrums,"
declared Koenig.
"You blockhead, I mean there will soon have to be a partition. They who
have plenty will have to give some to those who have nothing."
"Bravo! Long live Koth!"
"That sort of doctrine is dangerous to the state," said Flachsen. "Such
principles bring about revolutions, and corrupt society."
"What of society! You're an ass, Flachsen! Koth is right--partition,
partition!" was the cry all round the table.
"As you will! I have nothing against it if only it were practicable,"
expostulated Flachsen; "for I, too, am a radical."
"It is practicable! All things are practicable," exclaimed Koth. "Our
age can do anything, and so can we. Haven't we driven religion out of
the schools? Haven't we elected Shund for mayor? It is the majority who
rule; and, were we to vote in favor of partition to-morrow, partition
would have to take place. Any measure can be carried by a majority,
and, since we poor devils are in the majority, as soon as we will have
voted for partition it will come without fail."
"That's sensible!" agreed they all. "But then, such a thing has never
yet been done. Do you think it possible?"
"Anything is possible," maintained Koth. "Didn't Shund preach that
there isn't any God, or hell, or devil? Was that ever taught before? If
the God of old has to submit to being deposed, the rich will have to
submit to it. I tell you, the majority will settle the business for the
rich. And if there's no God, no devil, and no life beyond, well then,
you see, I'm capable of laying my hand to anything. If voting won't do,
violence will. Do you understand?"
"Bravo! Hurrah for Koth!"
"There must be progress," cried Graeulich, "among us as well as others.
We are not going to continue all our lives in wretchedness. We must
advance from labor to comfort without labor, from poverty to wealth,
from want to abundance. Three cheers for progress--hurrah! hurrah!",
And the whole company joined in frantically.
"There comes Evangelist Seicht," cried Koenig. "Though I didn't
understand one word of his speech, I believe he meant well. Although he
is an officer of the government, he cordially hates priests. A man may
say what he pleases against religion, and the church, and the Pope, and
the Jesuits, it rather pleases Seicht. He is a free and enlightened
man, is he. Up with your glasses, boys; if he comes near, let's give
him three rousing cheers."
They did as directed. Men and women cheered lustily. Seicht very
condescendingly raised his hat and smiled as he passed the table. The
ovation put him in fine humor. Though he had failed in securing a
place in the assembly, perhaps the slight would be repaired in the
future. Such was the tenor of his thoughts whilst he advanced to the
climbing-pole, around which was assembled a crowd of boys. Quite a
variety of prizes, especially tobacco-pipes, was hanging from the
cross-pieces at the top of the mast. The pole was so smooth that more
than ordinary strength and activity were required to get to the top.
The greater number of those who attempted the feat gave out and slid
back without having gained a prize. There were also grown persons
standing around watching the efforts of the boys and young men.
"It's my turn now," cried the fellow who had carried the cross in the
procession.
"But, first, let me have one more drink--it'll improve the sliding." He
swallowed the drink hastily, then swaying about as he looked and
pointed upward, "Do you see that pipe with tassels to it?" he said.
"That's the one I'm going after."
Throwing aside his mantle, he began to climb.
"He'll not get up, he's drunk," cried a lad among the bystanders.
"Belladonna has given him two pints of double beer for carrying the
cross in the procession--that's what ails him."
"Wait till I come down, I'll slap your jaws," cried the climber.
The spectators were watching him with interest. He was obliged to pause
frequently to rest himself, which he did by winding his legs tightly
round the pole. At last he reached the top. Extending his arm to take
the pipe, it was too short. Climbing still higher, he stretched his
body to its greatest length, lost his hold, and fell to the ground. The
bystanders raised a great cry. The unfortunate youth's head had
embedded itself in the earth, streams of blood gushed from his mouth
and nostrils--he was lifeless.
"He's dead! It's all over with him," was whispered around.
"Carry him off," commanded Seicht, and then walked on.
One of the bystanders loosed the cross-piece of the mock crucifix; the
corpse was then stretched across the two pieces of wood and carried off
the scene. As the body was carried past, the noise and revelry
everywhere ceased.
"Wasn't that the one who carried the cross?" was asked. "Is he dead?
Did he fall from the pole? How terrible!"
Even the progressionist revellers were struck thoughtful, so deeply is
the sense of religion rooted in the heart of man. Many a one among
them, seeing the pale, rigid face of the dead man, understood his fate
to be a solemn warning, and fled from the scene in terror.
The progressionist element of the town was much flattered by the
presence at its orgies of the wealthiest property owner of the country.
The women had already made the discovery that the millionaire's only
son, Mr. Seraphin Gerlach, was on the eve of marrying a member of the
highly respectable house of Greifmann, bankers. But it occasioned them
no small amount of surprise that the young gentleman was not in
attendance on the beautiful lady at the celebration. Louise's radiant
countenance gave no indication, however, that any untoward occurrence
had caused the absence of her prospective husband. The wives and
daughters of the chieftains were sitting under an awning sipping coffee
and eating cake. When Louise approached leaning on her brother's arm,
they welcomed her to a place in the circle of loveliness with many
courtesies and marks of respect.
Mr. Conrad strolled about the place, studying the spirit which animated
the gathering.