CHAPTER XII.
[IN THE CITIZEN ASSEMBLY.]
A dense throng was crowding through the unpretending entrances of the old-fashioned city garden; the citizens of Königsberg had there found a central point for their political and intellectual interests. Although excluded from the programme of these meetings, politics really formed the most vital artery of their life; for it was a period in which every matter in hand became converted into politics; the strongest material began suddenly to assume a political tinge of colour when it was held towards the light. The kernel of the Königsberg citizenship was present at these assemblies, and Blanden was perfectly right when he desired, by means of his lecture, to introduce himself in more extensive circles as the political agitator for the elections of the future.
At the entrance to the gallery which led into the room, there was much animation; there the claims were examined, for the assembly was a closed society. Any one who did not possess a card was rejected.
"Corpo di bacco," echoed a violent voice, "of what use are biglietti when the people assembles?"
"No one is admitted without a card."
"Corpo del diavolo," cried the impatient man, "then I must first return to my friend, Che Seccatura!"
Blanden, who had just arrived, recognised the amber-merchant, who, in a violent manner, forced a passage through the thronging people, so as to obtain egress again.
In the room itself a large concourse of people was already gathered, forming an impenetrable wall. The large mirror, which was placed against the one side, reflected, head after head, mostly well-to-do respectable faces, a few ruddy with the northern climate, tingling in the hot room after the cold out of doors, all gazing out beneath the brims of their hats, because here John Bull's custom had, from necessity, become a silent law; nowhere, excepting upon the heads, could space be found for the hats.
That no Jacobin-club, however, was assembled here was betokened by the steady composure that was unmistakable in all present, and the dense clouds of tobacco which floated above their heads.
Any one wishing to force his way through, must let himself be carried on farther by a suddenly formed wave, or with nervous haste follow the ticket-taker who enjoyed an undisputed right of passage.
Blanden, at the first rush, could not attain the chief table; a subsiding wave, which came from the opposite direction, drove him back.
Upon looking around he perceived near to him several faces that he knew, also that of the ombre player, Milbe, who again was not in Kulwangen, but was here prosecuting his political efforts.
Milbe possessed an evil conscience, because he had not given his vote to Blanden, and tried not to perceive the latter. Sengen von Larchen, however, who stood close by, delighted him with shaking hands cordially.
Gradually Blanden succeeded in reaching the vicinity of the platform, where he espied several leaders of the political movement. There stood a little man, with lofty, thoughtful brow and the soft gaze of a large eye, the only person in the assembly who had appeared in a black frock-coat, with white cuffs. His opponents might, perhaps, compare him, the most feared of all the politicians in the town on the East Sea, with Robespierre, on account of that cleanliness; his beardless face made a thoroughly frank impression. His firm figure was not possessed of any quicksilver flexibility; everything about him was precision--certainly clearness. Although he had made himself renowned by his questions, he appeared much more like a man who is ready to, and capable of answering; all sparkling wit was foreign to him; he loved plain inferences from given premises; his logic was pure as his cuffs. As the doctor does his patient's, so did he feel the pulse of the State, and prescribed his remedies to the invalid. He possessed the indomitable equanimity of a stoic, and looked upon the necessary combination of affairs of this world with the eyes of a Spinoza. He was one of the most insignificant in the Assembly, but, like the homunculus in the bottle, he drew the fiery trail of a great reputation after him, and wherever he appeared he was greeted with special respect.
Beside him stood another agitator, whose entire appearance denoted him to be devoted to colour; he was artistically draped in a cloak with a velvet collar, while every possible gaudiness of waistcoat and necktie peeped forth between the folds; his head, as the Brussels citizen says in "Egmont," would be a real delight to an executioner, so splendidly it contrasted with the average heads of the throng, so brilliant is its colouring, so luxuriant the well-cared-for beard. He was the humourist of the party, a flourishing author; by some compared with Jean Paul, by others with Börne, and his satirical bees fluttered around a flowery abundance of pictures. No greater contrast could exist than that between this overflowing humourist and the staid political medical man by his side--the former revelling in the luxuriant complacency of an enthusiasm for freedom, which poured flowers, fruit and briars out of its horn of plenty; the latter, the man of dry formulas, of determined demands.
Near them stood other men of the party, teachers at girls' schools, pedagogues of great oratorical fluency, and some worthy citizens of intellectual pursuits. The master chimney-sweep, who passes his snuff-box round yonder, speaks of Kant and Feuerbach, as if they were customers for whom he sweeps soot out of their chimnies; he knows the construction of the philosophical systems as accurately as the construction of coke stoves, and at home possesses a library which many a professor might envy.
Now the President's hammer is heard; an amateur orchestra, consisting of members of the union, sends forth its mighty sounds from the platform, then patriotic songs are sung. All betokens warm participation; it is a society that betrays internal life. Thus also thinks that renowned author, a tall figure, with a wreath of hair round the crown of his head, an idealist of the purest water, who is making studies here of superior sociability, and, amidst the din of the present, seeks to solve a problem of the future. The young doctor, who now ascends the platform, is well-known to Blanden--it is the poet Schöner; he pushes his long black hair from his brow, and, with flashing eyes, and fiery pathos, recites a poem which lauds the Baltic country as the new home of political freedom. During the recital he was quivering from head to foot like a Shaker who is moved by his religious enthusiasm, but it was this peculiarity that acted with such electricity upon the crowd. Tempestuous applause rewards these poetical efforts. The Robespierre in the frock-coat addresses a warm laconic eulogium to the poet after he had descended from the platform; the humourist, with good-natured blue eyes, looks pleasantly at him through spectacles, and lauds his grand talent. The master chimney-sweep closes his snuff-box vigorously, a species of applause that he loves, and does the poet the honour of inviting him to a game of chess, a peculiar distinction which is only vouchsafed to favourites. Blanden, however, could not but say to himself that political lyrics had already reached that ominous turning point where phrases compensate for thoughts, and every variety of detonating rockets and fireworks have superseded the steady flame of pure enthusiasm.
Now his turn came; he knew that his appearance in the Citizen Assembly would be looked upon with suspicion by many of his equals, but he kept his object firmly before his eyes. His equals had dropped him, he turned to the great Liberal party, that was not bound to one district or circle of Government.
He possessed no stentorian voice, but his organ did not lack power and warmth, and a certain elegance of delivery kept people's interest awake. Many considered it greatly in favour of so respected a representative of the nobility of the country that he not merely mixed in the circle of the Königsberg citizens, but also participated in their intellectual guidance. His lecture presented a picture of the charters of 1830, and the development of the French constitution under the July Dynasty; he then pointed out the advantages which advanced States like France possessed over Prussia by means of their constitutions, and alluded to the development of public life which with us still is numbered amongst our sacred wishes. But then he showed how the provisions of the French charters were circumvented by the Government, and cast no favourable horoscope for the latter in the existing state of dull, mental fermentation; he criticised the limited right of election and the system of two chambers with acumen, daring which public opinion at that time did not venture to follow. All the same, his speech reaped stormy approval. Blanden could not but admit that this applause rewarded every speaker, who spoke in the spirit of the Assembly, and that when the good master sweep opened his lips and snuff-box simultaneously, so as to launch from the platform a few telling sentences in which his pinches of snuff formed the punctuation, he was greeted with similar applause. Still Blanden believed he had by means of this speech opened for himself a road to political consideration; at last he felt himself to be exalted and calmed; his glance into the future appeared freer, he saw an attainable goal before him. Torn from his solitary brooding in the echo of similar sentiments which met him, he at the same time greeted the certainty that his political convictions would also find a farther soil ready to receive them, that the path to statesman-like importance lay open before him.
Blanden's lecture was followed by a debate which commenced with the tickets of the box of questions; the first one concerned political discourses, should they be entirely excluded from these sittings? The committee pointed out that the object of these meetings was not political but social; that these discourses, however, might touch upon politics.
"Who could exclude politics?" cried an energetic timber merchant, "the State is the principal interest for a citizen; I am such a thorough citizen, that I am overgrown with politics; I exhale politics and I inhale them, I wake and dream politics; I think politics aloud when I speak, and think politics mutely when I am silent; I feel politics, I teach and learn them; in short I may do what I will or others may do with me what they will, politics cannot be expelled from me. Whereof the heart is full, the mouth speaketh. Of that which one loves, one likes to speak; we all love our fatherland and like to talk of it. Thus we all think and feel, and therefore here in the gemeinde garten a short hour of politics, cannot be omitted."
That short hour of politics roused great exultation. Blanden, too, rejoiced at the citizens' warm interest in the Government's life, which had already become a matter that lay near their hearts.
The box of questions kept the debate on foot for a long time, then followed the conversazione. Choruses groaned through the old town hall; thereupon groups were formed, in the centre of which individual leaders were found who now exercised greater, now lesser powers of attraction; the political doctor had his little circle, the humourist his; poet Schöner recited a political dithyramb in a subdued voice; the master sweep related anecdotes, songs in sociable chorus resounded from several tables.
One little bit of by-play did not escape Blanden, who went from one group to another and with satisfaction--now here, now there--joined the open fight that had succeeded the closed conflict.
The Italian was leaning in a corner near the stove, and overwhelmed the ticket-taker, who neglected him, with terms of abuse whose melodious sound, as their sense was perfectly unintelligible to the other, did not in the least exercise the desired effect, until several honest German oaths hastened the man's tardy attention.
Blanden noticed how Böller the merchant, whom he had seen with Giulia, circled round the Italian as a hawk does round its prey. Now here, now there, the long, cadaverous figure rose amidst the crowd, and his eyes were fixed watchfully upon the amber merchant. The latter became uneasy; it had not escaped him that he had seriously aroused the merchant's attention, who was well-known to him, and he knew the cause too. Suddenly Böller disappeared towards one side of the city gardens, which possessed two entrances. Baluzzi followed the tall form with his eyes, and, without waiting for the refreshment ordered from the ticket-taker, hastened to leave the garden by the opposite door.
After some time Böller reappeared, and briskly traversed the groups, but far forward as he might extend his nose, he could not succeed in espying his victim. Disappointment was depicted on his pale small-pox-marked face as at the door he gave an order to an officer of justice who had come with him.
When the chairman's hammer, with three resounding blows, announced the conclusion of the sitting, Blanden resolved to seek half-witted Kätchen, at mother Hecht's, and to convince himself if she were really in possession of a few lines from Eva.