“Right enough, Mr. Spitzkopf,” explained a timid coppersmith. “Shund is a clever, well-informed man. Nobody denies this. But do you know that it is a question whether, besides his clever head, he also possesses a conscience in behalf of the commonwealth?”
“The most enlarged sort of a conscience, gentlemen—the warmest kind of a heart!” exclaimed the bald man in a convincing tone. “Don’t listen to stories that circulate concerning Shund. There is not a word of truth in them. They are sheer misconstructions—inventions of the priests and of their helots.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Spitzkopf, they are not all inventions,” opposed the coppersmith. “In the street where I live, Shund keeps up a certain connection that would not be proper for any decent person, not to say for a married man.”
“And does that scandalize you?” exclaimed the bald-headed agent merrily. “Mr. Shund is a jovial fellow, he enjoys life, and is rich. Mr. Shund will not permit religious rigorism to put restraints upon his enjoyments. His liberal and independent spirit scorns to lead a miserable existence under the rod of priestly bigotry. And, mark ye, gentlemen, this is just what recommends him to all who are not priest-ridden or leagued with the hirelings of Rome,” concluded the electioneer, casting a sharp look upon the coppersmith.
“But I am a Lutheran, Mr. Spitzkopf,” protested the coppersmith.
“There are hypocrites among the Lutherans who are even worse than the Romish Jesuits,” retorted the man with the bald head. “Consider, gentlemen, that the leading men of our city have, in consideration of his abilities, concluded to place Mr. Shund in the position which he ought to occupy. Are you going, on to-morrow, to vote against the decision of the leading men? Are you actually going to make yourselves guilty of such an absurdity? You may, of course, if you wish, for every citizen is free to do as he pleases. But the men of influence are also at liberty to do as they please. I will explain my meaning more fully. You, gentlemen, are, all of you, mechanics—shoemakers, tailors, blacksmiths, carpenters, etc. From whom do you get your living? Do you get it from the handful of hypocrites and men of darkness? No; you get your living from the liberals, for they are the moneyed men, the men of power and authority. It is they who scatter money among the people. You obtain employment, you get bread and meat, from the liberals. And now to whom, do you think, will the liberals give employment? They will give it to such as hold their views, and not—mark my word—to such as are opposed to them. The man, therefore, that is prepared recklessly to ruin his business has only to vote against Mr. Shund.”
“That will do the business, that will fetch them,” said Greifmann. “Just look how dumfounded the poor savages appear!”
“It is brutal terrorism!” protested Seraphin indignantly.
“But don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Spitzkopf! I am neither a hypocritical devotee nor a Jesuit!” exclaimed the coppersmith deprecatingly. “If Shund is good enough for them,” pointing to the leaders under the rotunda, “he is good enough for me.”
“For me, too!” exclaimed a tailor.