“Nothing new in it. All I can do is agree. From progress. And where does that come from? That comes from our having this system for voting for everything and that huge building with four towers. And as far as I go, if they can’t get along without that huge building, because in the end money for the state does have to be approved – and without money, gentlemen, nothing’s going to work” (Agreement: “Without money the good times stop”) – “well then, if it absolutely has to be, which I admit it does, what are we supposed to do, even with the concessions we’ve gladly made – with an election law, where it’s Herr von Stechlin who’s supposed to be elected and where it’s his coachman Martin, who’s driven him to the election, who actually gets elected, or at least might be able to get himself elected? And our Herr von Stechlin’s coachman Martin is still far more preferable to me than this Torgelow fellow. And all of this is what they call freedom. Nonsense’s what I call it. And a lot of others do too. But I imagine that this very election, in a county where the old Prussia is still alive, this election in particular, will do its part to open the eyes of those up above. I won’t say whose eyes.”
“Finish, finish!”
“I’m coming to the finish. They say back in seventy the French called themselves ‘the gloriously vanquished.’ A proud remark, a remark worthy of emulation. And for us too, gentlemen. And just as we, without having to excuse ourselves for doing so, accept this champagne from France, so too, I believe, can we also adopt that justquoted proud phrase of grieving from France. We have been vanquished, but we are the gloriously vanquished. We will have our revanche. We will take it. And until that day, in every way, To Herr von Stechlin of Castle Stechlin, long life to him!”
All rose and touched glasses with Dubslav. A few, it must be admitted, laughed and von Molchow, as he was ordering a new wine bucket said to Katzler who was sitting beside him, “Heaven knows, this Gundermann always was and still is a jackass. What are we supposed to do with people like that? First off he describes that woman with a goiter for us, then he wants to get rid of the Reichstag. Monstrous stupidity. If we don’t have that huge building, we won’t have anything; it’s still our salvation, practically the only place where we can, to a certain extent, open our mouth (mouth, I say) and get something through. We’ve got to come to some sort of an agreement with the Center Party. Then we’re in the clear. And now comes this Gundermann and wants to take that from us too. It’s really true, y’know, that the parties and the upper class ruin themselves every time. Which is to say, you really can’t talk about upper class in this case. This Gundermann fellow doesn’t belong to it. His mother was a midwife in Wrietzen. That’s why he’s always so pushy.”
Soon after Gundermann’s speech, which had been sort of an epilogue, Baron Beetz whispered to the old Alten-Friesacker that it was time to bring the meal to its conclusion. The old fellow, however, did not yet really want to do so, for once they got him sitting, he was sitting. But since immediately thereafter several chairs were pushed back, he had no other recourse but to join in. Thus with the tones of the Hohenfriedberger March resounding – considering the overall situation, the Prague March, in which it says, “Schwerin has fallen” might have been more appropriate – they returned to the ground floor rooms where most of them wished to have at the coffee. At the same time a small party of the most courageous stepped out to the street, there, under the trees of the Triangle, to continue enjoying themselves with champagne and cognac.
[ . . . ]
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