The Breaking of the Storm

character into another, and today proclaims universal suffrage, tomorrow thunders against Socialism, the day after again reprimands the puffed-up middle classes like so many ill-behaved schoolboys? He is and will always remain the majordomo of the Hohenzollern, though he may strive against it in moments of impatience at the occasional prudent hesitation of his gracious master, of anger at the intrigues of the courtiers, or whatever else may chafe his proud spirit. Believe me, your Excellency, this man, in spite of his perpetual display of liberalism, is an aristocrat from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, and in spite of his vaunted enlightenment is full of the romantic fancier of the middle ages, and never can and never will from his heart wish for anything but a kingdom by the grace of God. But while he wishes for a kingdom by the grace of God, he works for one by the grace of the people. What else is it, when he uproots from the people all reverence for the priesthood, not the Catholic alone? the interests of all orders of the priesthood have always been identical, and the sympathy which the ill-used Catholic clergy obtain from the Protestant priesthood will soon be seen. Without priests, however, there can be no God, and no kingdom by the grace of God; in other words, he is sawing off the branch on which he sits. Or if he does not take the matter so seriously, if he is, what I do not believe, so narrow-minded and frivolous that he only sees the whole matter in the light of a dispute about etiquette, a quarrel for the precedence which he wishes to claim by the power he has arrogated to himself as head and chief over the priests, the affair will again lead him ad absurdum, as there is no doubt that the priests will never accept this subordination, will at least only endure it if they cannot help themselves. We are what we always were and always shall be. And, your Excellency, his vulnerable point is that he does not grasp this, that he believes that he can frighten us by threatenings and terrors and make us the creatures of his will. As soon as he perceives that he cannot succeed by this means⁠—and I hope he will not perceive it yet⁠—he will try to temporise with us, and step by step will be drawn into the reaction; will be forced ever more and more openly to expose the contradiction between his aim⁠—the kingdom by the grace of God⁠—and his means which he has borrowed from the armoury of the revolution; and this contradiction into which he is being hopelessly driven, and from which must proceed the revolution⁠—for no people will endure the long continuance of so contradicting a rule⁠—is the pebble that is already rolling, and which will loosen the avalanche and shatter the Colossus.”

“Serve him right! and good luck go with him,” said his little Excellency, with his sarcastic laugh; and then, after a short pause, “I only sometimes fear that we shall make the salto mortale with him, and⁠—”

“Shall stand firmer than ever on our feet,” interrupted Giraldi quickly. “What have we to fear from the revolution or from the people?⁠—nothing, absolutely nothing. If today they dance round the golden calf, tomorrow they will prostrate themselves the deeper in the dust before Jehovah; if today they place the Goddess of Reason on the throne, tomorrow like frightened children they will fly back again into the bosom of Mother Church. And if in reality, as you said yesterday, Darwinism is to be for Germany the religion of the future, so be it; we will be the Darwinians par excellence, and with holy zeal will teach the new faith from the chairs of the universities. We know that nature draws her veil the closer, the more impatiently the too-forward scholar tries to lift it. And when he has gazed into the hollow eyes of Nothing, and lies shattered on the ground, we will come, will raise up the poor fool, and comfort him with the words⁠—‘Go, and sin no more.’ And he will go, and will sin no more in the foolish thirst for knowledge, for the burden of ignorance is lighter and her yoke is easier⁠—quod erat demonstrandum.”

The corners of his Excellency’s mouth were drawn as far apart as possible; even Giraldi smiled.

“I wish I had you always here,” said his Excellency.

“To tell your Excellency things which you have long ago proclaimed from the tribune.”

“I generally speak from my place.”

“And always in the right place.”

“It is often nothing but empty sound, and no one knows that better than myself; one counts upon the echo.”

“And not in vain; for us beyond the mountains the little silver bell is the great bell of a cathedral, whose iron clang reminds loiterers of their duty and spurs the brave to fiercer struggles.”

“And that reminds me that at this moment I am a loiterer myself, and that a fiercer struggle awaits me in the Chamber today.”

His Excellency, who had some time before seated himself on a chair near the door⁠—Giraldi remained standing⁠—rose again.

“Your Excellency will not forget my little request,” said Giraldi.

“How could I?” answered his Excellency; “in fact, I hope soon to have an opportunity of setting the affair in motion. Of course, it cannot be done without a small douceur. Nobody does anything there for nothing. Happily we have the means always ready. The promise to give one turn less to the screw in Alsace-Lorraine, not to disturb the childish pleasure of the old Catholics in Cologne too rudely, not to sound the alarm too loud in the impending debate on the courageous Bishop of Ermeland, any one of these small favours is worth a General, particularly when the latter has such unpractical antediluvian ideas of State, society and family.”

“And it can be done without scandal?”

“Quite without scandal. Ah!