It was a singular coincidence that in the same moment that Ivan said to himself, "How long will this game last?" Prince Waldemar, meeting Felix Kaulmann, beaming with triumph, at the exchange, put to him the question, "How long, do you think, will this comedy last?"
"The third act is still wanting," replied the banker.
"Yes, the third instalment. Then I shall hoist you on your own petard."
"We will see about that."
The bears could not imagine what Kaulmann had in his head. That he had a plan was certain; what it was no one knew but the Abbé Samuel and Prince Theobald.
The third act was not the instalment; it was the Bondavara Railway. This question bristled with difficulties. The government was irritated against Hungary, and in their irritation would not listen to any proposals as to railways and the like. Even the country party was sulky. Let the country go to the devil; what did they care? And no doubt they had justification for their righteous indignation. Every Hungarian who wore "broadcloth" was against them. The body of officials, the middle class, the intelligence of the country, preferred to lay down place and to give up government patronage sooner than submit to the chimeras which the cabinet at Vienna indulged in by way of government. Good! So far as officials went, men were easily got to fill the places the others had resigned, for when a good table is spread, needless to say, guests are not hard to find. The hired troop pocketed their salary, took the oath, stuffed their pockets, but did nothing to promote the government measures. Between the men who had resigned and the newly appointed officials there was only this difference: that one set openly declared they would do nothing; the others pretended to do something, but found it impossible to accomplish anything. They tried to shove, but the cart would not move an inch. From those who wore cloth among the middle classes the government had to expect nothing, that was evident. Formerly those who wore silk and satin acted as a sort of counterpoise—the high and mighty, and the magnates, the lawyers, and the priests—but now all these held aloof. The primate remonstrated, the bishops advised the nobility, the higher classes collected in Pesth and talked treason.
Flectere si nequeo superos—
Let us turn now to the Halina cloth. Halina cloth is, as every one knows, the commonest description of cloth, only worn by the poorer classes. This cloth was suddenly adopted in the capital of the Austrian empire. This was no capricious freak of fashion set in motion by some high lady who "imagined" her elegance could give dignity to the roughest material; this was another affair altogether, inaugurated by the legislative body of the kingdom, who were all clothed in Halina. Well, what has any one to say against this? Why not? Are we not democrats? It is true that these right-minded men hardly understood a word of the language in which the legislative debates were carried on, but this had the inestimable advantage that they could make no long speeches, and therefore could in no way impede the course of business. Neither did they possess any knowledge of the laws of nations, the rights of citizens, the complicated details of finance, nor the construction of budgets; and this pastoral innocence entitled them to universal respect and confidence, for it placed them above suspicion. No one could suspect these honorable deputies of siding with the government because they held government appointments.
We repeat that the introducer of Halina cloth to be worn by the legislative assembly was a man of talent. But in Hungary, also, the fashion should be adopted. Were there not one hundred and eight seats in the legislative assembly ready for so many excellent men? These should not be left vacant. To fill these seats, however, there was one lever necessary, and that was the influence of the clerical party.
The clergy in Hungary were such poor creatures, so ignorant and uneducated, that they actually preferred to remain faithful to the traditions of Rakoczy than to adopt the new-fangled ideas promulgated at Vienna. Even such an insignificant pastor as Herr Mahok returned the decree which had been sent to him from headquarters, with directions to read it on Sundays to his flock, saying that it was a mistake; he was not the village crier. If the government wished to issue a protocol, let it be done in the market-place, by order of the judge of the district, and accompanied by the drum and trumpet. The pulpit was not the place for government protocols. The like refusal came from every pastor in Hungary, and in face of this flat rebellion the ministers resolved that the power of the clerical party should be broken.