—Oh, those ossified conceptions that have long lost their significance!
“And again, for whom does he write? For our bourgeois! And they are every inch of them practical people! If they are going to give six kreuzers for that book, they want to have something for it! The praise of ancient, good days, prophecies that better times are coming,—such things the bourgeois like to read. Then hymns of humanity, justice, sympathy, light, virtue, and goodness,—only sing these ideals to them,—it is like scratching their backs,—that pleases them, and they like it so much, that they are willing to stretch out their hands for a small volume of these verses from time to time! Do you suppose all that finds an echo in their souls, their hearts, and their blood? No, no, no! They have only been inoculated at school with the idea that this is beautiful, that this is good, that it will not hurt them, their sons, or their daughters, as long as it is all quiet! Only no militant
