The noise grew louder, and then a new speaker appeared on the platform, this time evidently a cultivated, thoughtful man and an adroit speaker.  The organizers of the evening were unwilling to allow the meeting to retain the impression of Wilhelm’s speech, and had placed a clever opponent to follow him, who said clearly and concisely that the speaker before him might be a friend of mankind, but he was certainly an enemy of culture, because the progress of civilization was always the result of new requirements and the seeking of their fulfillment, and if men limited their wants or denied them altogether, mankind would be brought back to the condition of savages or wild beasts.  The progress of culture depended on the awakening of requirements and their satisfaction, and not in limiting or renouncing them.  The love of mankind might be a very beautiful thing, but the speaker ought not to come and preach to the poor, who held together and helped each other without his advice.  Let him go and preach to the rich, for whom he seemed to feel so much pity and tenderness.  Why should the minority attract to itself the existing means of life, and leave the majority to starve, as the capitalists did now? why should the provisions not be divided between all, so that the whole community should have a part?

Paul had wished to leave when Wilhelm had finished, but the latter waited out of politeness to hear his opponent speak, and when the speaker had ended in a storm of applause, the three friends left the meeting.  When they were outside, Dr. Schrotter said to Wilhelm: 

“Do you know that you are a first-rate speaker?  You have everything that is necessary for moving a crowd in the highest degree.”

“Hardly that, I think.”

“Certainly, I mean it:  a noble appearance, a voice which goes to the heart, remarkable calmness and assurance, uncommon command of language, and an idealistic earnestness which would move all the better spirits among your audience.  You have shown us to-night the road you ought to take.  You must devote your gift to speaking in public, you must endeavor to become a deputy.  If you fail in this, you will sin against our people.”

“Bravo!  I had already thought of that,” cried Paul.

“A deputy—­never,” said Wilhelm.  “If I spoke well to-day it was because I was sorry for the poor, ignorant men who listened to the silly talk of a fool as if it were a revelation from Mount Sinai, but I could never presume to have any influence in Parliament or in the fate of governments.”

“And so you call what is every citizen’s duty ‘presumption,’”

“Forgive me, doctor, if I say I do not believe that.  Only those who are acquainted with the laws and their development should have anything to do with the nation’s destiny.  But only a few isolated individuals know these laws, and I am not one of them.”

“Do you think that the government know them?”

“Oh, no.”