The Progressionists, and Angela. Conrad von Bolanden
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Название: The Progressionists, and Angela

Автор: Conrad von Bolanden

Издательство: Bookwire

Жанр: Языкознание

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isbn: 4064066173920

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СКАЧАТЬ you exaggerate!" said Seraphin with a shake of the head. "Your illustration beats the enchanted horn of the fable. Do not you think so. Miss Louise?"

      "Brother's trumpet story is rather odd, 'tis true, yet I believe that at bottom such is really the state of things."

      "The instrument in question is objectionable in your opinion, my friend, only because you still bear about you the narrow conscience of an age long since buried. As you never spend more than two short winter months in the city, where alone the life-pulse of our century can be felt beating, you remain unacquainted with the present and its spirit. The rest of the year you pass in riding about on your lands, suffering yourself to be impressed by the stern rigor of nature's laws, and concluding that human society harmonizes in the same manner with the behests of fixed principles. I shall have to brush you up a little. I shall have to let you into the mysteries of progress, so that you may cease groping like a blind man in the noonday of enlightenment. Above all, let us have no narrow-mindedness, no scrupulosity, I beg of you. Whosoever nowadays walks the grass-grown paths of rigorism is a doomed man."

      Whilst he was saying this, a smile was on the banker's countenance. Seraph in mused in silence on the meaning and purpose of his extraordinary language.

      "Look down the street, if you please," continued Carl Greifmann. "Do you observe yon dark mass just passing under the gas-lamp?"

      "I notice a pretty corpulent gentleman," answered Seraphin.

      "The corpulent gentleman is Mr. Hans Shund, formerly treasurer of this city," explained Greifmann. "Many years ago, Mr. Shund put his hand into the public treasury, was detected, removed for dishonesty, and imprisoned for five years. When set at liberty, the ex-treasurer made the loaning of money on interest a source of revenue. He conducted this business with shrewdness, ruined many a family that needed money and in its necessity applied to him, and became rich. Shund the usurer is known to all the town, despised and hated by everybody. Even the dogs cannot endure the odor of usury that hangs about him; just see--all the dogs bark at him. Shund is moreover an extravagant admirer of the gentler sex. All the town is aware that this Jack Falstaff contributes largely to the scandal that is afloat. The pious go so far as to declare that the gallant Shund will be burned and roasted in hell for all eternity for not respecting the sixth commandment. Considered in the light of the time honored morality of Old Franconia, Shund, the thief, the usurer and adulterer, is a low, good-for-nothing scoundrel, no question about it. But in the light of the indulgent spirit of the times, no more can be said than that he has his foibles. He is about to pass by on the other side, and, as a well-bred man, will salute us."

      Seraphin had attentively observed the man thus characterized, but with the feelings with which one views an ugly blotch, a dirty page in the record of humanity.

      Mr. Shund lowered his hat, his neck and back, with oriental ceremoniousness in presence of the millions on the balcony. Carl acknowledged the salute, and even Louise returned it with a friendly inclination of the head.

      The landholder, on the contrary, was cold, and felt hurt at Greifmann's bowing to a fellow whom he had just described as a scoundrel. That Louise, too, should condescend to smile to a thief, swindler, usurer, and immoral wretch! In his opinion, Louise should have followed the dictates of a noble womanhood, and have looked with honest pity on the scapegrace. She, on the contrary, greeted the bad man as though he were respectable, and this conduct wounded the young man's feelings.

      "Apropos of Hans Shund, I will take occasion to convince you of the correctness of my statements," said Carl Greifmann. "Three days hence, the municipal election is to come off. Mr. Shund is to be elected mayor. And when the election of deputies takes place, this same Shund will command enough of the confidence and esteem of his fellow-citizens to be elected to the legislative assembly, thief and usurer though he be. You will then, I trust, learn to understand that the might of progress is far removed from the bigotry that would subject a man's qualifications to a microscopic examination. The enlarged and liberal principles prevailing in secular concerns are opposed to the intolerance that would insist on knowing something of an able man's antecedents before consenting to make use of him. All that Shund will have to do will be to fall in under the glorious banner of the spirit of the age; his voting trumpet will be given him; and forthwith he will turn out a finished mayor and deputy. Do you not admire the power and stretch of liberalism?"

      "I certainly do admire your faculty for making up plausible stories," answered Seraphin.

      "Plausible stories? Not at all! Downright earnest, every word of it. Hans Shund, take my word for it, will be elected mayor and member of the assembly."

      "In that event," replied the landholder, "Shund's disreputable antecedents and disgusting conduct at present must be altogether a secret to his constituents."

      "Again you are mistaken, my dear friend. This remark proceeds from your want of acquaintance with the genius of our times. This city has thirty thousand inhabitants. Every adult among them has heard of Hans Shund the thief, usurer, and companion of harlots. And I assure you that not a voter, not a progressive member of our community, thinks himself doing what is at all reprehensible by conferring dignity and trust on Hans Shund. You have no idea how comprehensive is the soul of liberalism."

      "Let us quit a subject that appears to me impossible, nay, even unnatural," said Gerlach.

      "No, no; for this very reason you need to be convinced," insisted the banker with earnestness. "My prospective--but hold--I was almost guilty of a want of delicacy. No matter, my actual friend, landholder and millionaire, must be made see with his eyes and touch with his fingers what marvels progress can effect. Let us make a bet: Eighteen days from now Hans Shund will be mayor and member for this city. I shall stake ten thousand florins. You may put in the pair of bays that won the best prizes at the last races."

      Seraphin hesitated.

      "Come on!" urged the banker. "Since you refuse to believe my assertions, let us make a bet. May be you consider my stakes too small against yours? Very well, I will say twenty thousand florins."

      "You will be the loser, Greifmann! Your statements are too unreasonable."

      "Never mind; if I lose, you will be the winner. Do you take me up?"

      "Pshaw, Carl! you are too sure," said Louise reproachfully.

      "My feeling so sure is what makes me eager to win the finest pair of horses I ever saw. Is it possible that you are a coward?"

      The landholder's face reddened. He put his right hand in the banker's. "My dear fellow," exclaimed he jubilantly, "I have just driven a splendid bargain. To convince you of the entire fairness of the transaction, you are to be present at the manipulation that is to decide. Even though you lose the horses, your gain is incalculable, for it consists in nothing less than being convinced of the wonderful nature and of the omnipotence of progress. I repeat, then, that, wherever progress reigns, the elections are the supreme folly of the nineteenth century; for in reality there is no electing; but what progress decrees, that is fulfilled."

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