The Breaking of the Storm, Vol. II.

by Friedrich Spielhagen

CHAPTER III.

It had not been Giraldi's intention to remain away go long. He had expected the visit to be only one of civility, in return for that which he had paid his Excellency the day before; but the clever, loquacious gentleman had still so much to say, so much to add with regard to the business that they had apparently concluded the day before, even when he stood at the door with his hand on the lock, sometimes putting the hat which he held in the other hand before his half-blind eyes, hidden behind large grey spectacles, to protect them from the light that streamed too dazzlingly through the window opposite.

"It seems foolish to warn the most prudent of men," he said, with a sarcastic smile which looked like a tearful grimace on his odd face.

"Particularly when the warning comes from the bravest of men," answered Giraldi.

"And yet," continued his Excellency, "he is wise too; you undervalue his wisdom. He too is brave, even to rashness; he gives proof of it daily. I do not think men like him can be understood at a distance; at least half the magical power that they exercise over their contemporaries lies in their personality. One must know such people personally, quarrel with them in the Chambers, see them enter at a court reception, to understand why the beasts grovel in the dust before this lion, and even where they mean to oppose him, only get so far as to wag their tails. Believe me, my honoured friend, distance in space is as unfavourable to the estimation of such real historical greatness as distance in time. You in Rome think you can explain by the logic of facts all that depends solely on the overwhelming personality of the man, exactly as all-wise philosophers of history quite calmly construe the wonderful deeds of an Alexander or a Cæsar even to the minutest details by the necessity of the circumstances of the time, as if circumstances were a machine which completes its task all the same, whether set in motion by the master or by a workman." Giraldi smiled: "I thank your Excellency in the name of his Holiness, for whose ears this witty little lecture was doubtless meant. And it is no doubt as well that his Holiness should occasionally be shown the reverse side of the medal, in order that he may not forget the fear which is the beginning of all wisdom, and may be mindful of the necessity of our counsels and of our support. Only at this moment, when the shadows of the clouds which threaten our horizon on all sides lie dark on his soul, I would not willingly represent to him the situation as more difficult, or the man of the situation as more dangerous, than we ourselves see them to be who have learnt to see. Therefore I purposely took advantage of my farewell audience to raise his failing courage a little. May I give your Excellency a proof of the necessity of this? Well, then, his Holiness spoke in almost identically the same words of the demoniacal power of the arch-enemy of our Holy Church; he called him in turns a robber, a giant with a hundred arms, a murderer, a Colossus whose feet trod the two hemispheres, as that of Rhodes did the two sides of the harbour. Can your Excellency guess what I answered him? 'I see already the pebble falling from the skies, which will shatter the feet of the Colossus.' His eyes gleamed, his lips moved; he repeated to himself the words; before long he will proclaim them, urbi et orbi, as he does everything that we whisper to him. Our enemies will laugh, but it will comfort the feeble spirits amongst us, as it evidently sufficed to comfort the poor old man."

"I wish it were as true as it is comforting," said his Excellency.

"And is it not true?" exclaimed Giraldi. "Does not the Colossus in reality stand on feet of clay? Of what avail are all the boasting speeches about the power and splendour and civilising historic mission of the German Empire? The end of the song, which he purposely suppresses, or at least only allows to be heard quite faintly, is always and only the powerful kingdom of Prussia. What avails him that he restlessly throws himself from one character into another, and to-day proclaims universal suffrage, to-morrow thunders against Socialism, the day after again reprimands the puffed-up middle classes like so many ill-behaved school-boys? 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 to-day they dance round the golden calf, to-morrow they will prostrate themselves the deeper in the dust before Jehovah; if to-day 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 to-day." 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! my worthy friend, you must not consider us any longer as the honest barbarians described by Tacitus; we have really learnt something since then. Good-bye!"

"Will your Excellency allow me to escort you to your carriage?"

"On no account. My servant waits in the anteroom. Will you let him come in?"

"Will your Excellency permit me to be for the moment, as ever, your devoted servant?" Giraldi was in the act of offering his arm to the half-blind man, when a fresh visitor was announced.

"Who is it?" asked his Excellency, with some anxiety; "you know I must not be seen here by everybody."

"It is Councillor Schieler, your Excellency."

"Oh! only him. However, do not trust the sneaking fellow more than you can help! He has got some very useful qualities, but must be handled with care. Above all, do not trust him in the matter in question; it would be quite useless. His great protector can do nothing in the matter."

"And therefore it was that I took the liberty of applying to your Excellency."

"Advice to you always comes too late. One thing more. For the little family war which you have to wage here with these North German barbarians you require three times as much of the needful as for the great war. Are you fully provided?"

"I have always considered that war should maintain itself. However, I can draw on Brussels to any extent if it should be necessary."

"Perhaps it may be necessary. At any rate, keep the game in your own hands. In spite of your sanguine hopes for the future, in which I fully concur, there are a series of lean years impending; we shall have to live like marmots, and the prudence of the marmot is more than ever necessary to us. You will keep me au courant?"

"It will be for my own interest, your Excellency." The Councillor had entered. His Excellency held out his hand: "You come just as I am going--that is unfair. You know there is nobody I like better to talk with than you. How blows the wind to-day in the Wilhelmstrasse? Have they slept well? Did they get out of bed on the right side? Nerves down, or steady? Country air asked for, or no demand? For heaven's sake do not let me die of unsatisfied curiosity." His Excellency did not wait for the answer of the smiling Councillor, but again pressed the hands of both gentlemen, and, leaning on the arm of the servant who had entered meanwhile, left the room.

"Is it not wonderful!" said the Councillor; "such incredible elasticity, such marvellous promptitude, such quickness of attack, such sureness in retreat! The Moltke of guerilla warfare! What an enviable treasure does your party possess in that man!"

"Our party, Councillor? Pardon me, I always have to remind myself that you do not belong to us. Will you not sit down?"

"Many thanks, but I have not a minute to spare. I can only hastily tell you what is most important. In the first place, they are furious at the Ministry of Commerce at a vote just passed by the General Staff on the harbour question, which, as I am told by a colleague--I have not yet seen it myself,--is as good as a veto. The report is by a certain Captain von Schönau, but the actual author--did you ever hear of such a thing?--is himself a member of the War Office, and is of course no other than our friend the General. This throws us back I do not know how far or for how long. I am furious, and the more so that I can see no way of getting over this difficulty. To be sure, a man has influence, and could, if necessary, bring this influence to bear even against an old friend; but one would not like to do it except in the direst necessity. What do you advise?"

"That we should not tarnish the purity of our cause by mixing in it such odious personalities," answered Giraldi. "If you think yourself bound to spare an old friend, you know that there exists between the General and me an enmity of long standing; and everything that I should do or allow to be done against him would appear justly in the eyes of all as an act of common revenge, which God forbid! If it is His will He will surely bring about an event which will make our opponent harmless, and that need not be an accident because men call it so."

"You mean if he were to die?" asked the Councillor, with a hesitating glance.

"I mean nothing positive, and certainly not his death. As far as I am concerned, may he live long!"

"That is a noble and Christian-like wish," answered the Councillor, rubbing his long nose, "and no doubt spoken from your heart; still his opposition is and remains a stumbling-block to us, and I wish that were our only hindrance. But now, Count Golm tells me--I have just come from him; he will have the honour almost immediately; I only hurried on before him because I have something to say about him presently--Count Golm tells me that his efforts--he went over there in his present semi-official capacity as future chairman of the board--that his efforts with the President in Sundin have been quite useless. He had made up his mind and could not alter it, however willingly he would give way to the Count, for a thousand reasons of neighbourly feeling and personal good-will, and so forth. Golm, who between ourselves is clever enough and certainly not bashful, naturally allowed the great sacrifice to be perceived that we have determined to make--all in vain. In fact Golm thinks that he has rather done harm than good in the matter."

"As is the case with all half measures," said Giraldi.

"With half measures, my dear sir. How do you mean?"

"What was he offered?"

"Fifty thousand thalers down and the first directorship of the new railway, with six thousand a year fixed salary, besides an official residence, travelling expenses, and so forth."

"Then about half what he demands?"

"He demands nothing."

"A man does not demand under those circumstances; he lets it be offered to him. Authorise the Count to double it, and I bet you anything the business is done."

"We cannot go so far as that," answered the Councillor, rubbing his closely-cropped head; "our means do not allow it. Besides the rest of us--and then Count Golm himself is satisfied with fifty thousand for the present, we cannot offer the President twice as much without offending Golm. He is not particularly pleased with us as it is, and that is the point I want to talk to you about before he comes. Is it really impossible for you--I mean for the Warnow trustees--to sell the property directly to us, the provisional board?"

"Over the Count's head!" exclaimed Giraldi. "Why I fancy, Councillor, that you are bound to the Count in that matter by the most positive promises."

"True, true, unfortunately! But Lübbener, our financial adviser and----"

"The Count's banker--I know."

"You know everything! Lübbener thinks we might find some pretext in the case of a gentleman who, like the Count, is always getting into fresh difficulties and is always inclined or forced to sell his birthright for a mess of pottage. At the same time we do not wish or intend to act contrary to your intentions, and if you insist----"

"I insist upon nothing, Councillor," answered Giraldi; "I simply obey the wishes of my client, which are on this point identical with those of Herr von Wallbach."

"Good heavens!" said the Councillor impatiently. "I can quite understand that for the sake of appearances you would prefer to sell to a man of position rather than to a provisional board, although the man of position in question is a member of that very board; but you must not forget that we should pay you as much, or nearly as much, directly as we must afterwards pay to the Count."

"The Count will not get off so cheaply either as you seem to think."

"Then he will sell so much the dearer to us," said the Councillor; "and it will be so much the worse for us."

"Nevertheless I must refuse my support in this matter, to my great regret," answered Giraldi decidedly. The Councillor looked very much disgusted. "The best of it is," he said sulkily, "that he cannot find the money--not even a hundred thousand, and still less the million or whatever sum we decide upon as the price of the land. He must come to us then; I know nobody else who would advance him so much at once, or even in instalments. I can tell him, however, beforehand, without being Merlin the Wise, that we shall not let him have the money cheap, so it will come to the same thing in the end. But now, my honoured patron, I must make room for the Count and take leave of you. Give my best regards to the lady, whom unfortunately I have not yet the honour of knowing, but for whom I have always had the deepest respect, and for whom I have broken many a lance in knightly fashion. And not in vain, for this family visit--I met Fräulein Sidonie in the hall, Fräulein Elsa had hastened on in front--is a concession which I may, without vanity, look upon as the result of my powers of persuasion. Apropos of my dear old friend Sidonie, you wished to know yesterday what it was that had actually decided the matter of the betrothal and put an end to Ottomar's obstinate resistance."

"Well!" asked Giraldi, with unfeigned curiosity.

"I do not know," said the Councillor, with his finger on his long nose; "that is to say, my dear friend does not know, or she was sure to have told me. According to the servant's evidence--that was all she could tell me--an interview took place the night before between the father and son; but I have every reason to suspect that the subject was no romantic one, but on the contrary, the equally prosaic and inexhaustible one of Ottomar's debts. Farewell, my dear and honoured patron!--You will keep me informed?"

"Be assured of it." The Councillor was gone. Giraldi's dark eyes were still fixed on the door; a smile of the deepest contempt played upon his lips. "Buffone!" he murmured.