The Merchant of Berlin Part 29

The general's countenance brightened up considerably. "Not into the king's treasury?" said he; "where, then, does it go?"

"The money, your excellency, which is earned at the gold and silver factories and at the warehouse is devoted to a praiseworthy and touching purpose. Perhaps you are a father--have children; and when you go into battle you think of them, and utter a silent prayer, intrusting them to G.o.d's care, and praying that they may not be left orphans."

Count Tottleben muttered some untelligible words, and stretched out his hand deprecatingly. His lips trembled, and to conceal his agitation he turned away.

Gotzkowsky cried out joyously: "Oh, I see in your eyes that you are vainly trying to compel yourself to look at me in anger. Yes, you are a father. Well, then, father, spare the orphans! From the proceeds of the gold and silver factories, and the warehouse, the new, large orphan-house in Potsdam is supported. Oh, you cannot be so cruel as to deprive the poor children, whom the pitiless war has rendered fatherless, of their last support, of their last refuge!"

The general stepped up to him, and grasped his hand. "G.o.d be my witness that I will not! But is this so certainly? Do you speak the truth?"

"Yes, it is the truth!"

"Can you swear to it?"

"Yes, with the most sacred oath."

The general paced the room in silence several times, and then, pausing before Gotzkowsky, laid his hand on his shoulder. "Listen," said he.

"I have often been reproached at home for being too soft and pitiful.

But never mind! I will once more follow my own inclination, and act in spite of the orders which I have received. You must help me. Put all that you have just stated down on paper. Write down that these buildings are not the property of the king, but of the orphan-house.

Swear to it with a sacred oath, and affix your signature and seal.

Will you do this?"

"Gladly will I do it," cried Gotzkowsky, his face radiant. "Never have I signed my name with a happier heart than I will have when I sign it to this affidavit, which will procure for us both the heart-felt blessings of so many children."

He stepped to the general's writing-table, and, following his direction, seated himself and wrote.

Tottleben in the mean while walked up and down pensively, his arms folded. His features wore a thoughtful and mild expression. No trace of the late angry storm was visible. Once he stopped, and murmured in a low voice: "Orphans one dare not plunder. Elizabeth has a tender heart, and if she learns the reason of my disobedience, she will be content. Yes, my course is the right one."

"I have finished, sir," said Gotzkowsky, standing up and handing him the paper on which he had written.

Tottleben read it over carefully, and laid it alongside of the dispatches to his empress. He then called to his adjutant and ordered him immediately to place strong safeguards over the gold and silver manufactories and the warehouse, and to protect these against any attack.

Gotzkowsky clasped his hands, and directed his eyes to heaven with joyful grat.i.tude, and in the deep emotion of his heart he did not perceive that the general again stood before him, and was looking at him with inquiring sympathy. His voice first awakened him from his reverie. "Are you contented now?" asked Tottleben, in a friendly tone.

"Content, general," said Gotzkowsky, shaking his head, "only belongs to him who lies in his coffin."

Again the general's brow grew dark. "What is troubling you now? Don't hesitate--"

"To speak on, your excellency?" inquired Gotzkowsky, with a gentle smile.

"No--to put yourself in your coffin," answered the other, rudely.

"I have not time for that, as yet," replied Gotzkowsky, sadly. "Both of us, general, have still too much to do. You have to add fresh laurels to your old ones--I have to clear thistles and thorns from the path of my fellow-men."

"Ah! there are more thorns, then?" asked Tottleben, as he sank down into a chair, and regarded Gotzkowsky with evident benevolence.

"A great many yet, sir," answered Gotzkowsky, sighing. "Our whole body is b.l.o.o.d.y from them."

"Then call on the regimental surgeon to cure you," said Tottleben, with a coa.r.s.e laugh.

"You only can cure us," said Gotzkowsky, seriously, "for only you are able to inflict such severe wounds. You are not satisfied with having conquered and humiliated us, but you wish to tread us in the dust, and make our cheeks, which were pale with sadness, now redden with shame.

You have ordered that the citizens of Berlin should be disarmed. You are a brave soldier, sir, and honor courage above all things. Now, let me ask you, how could you bear to exhibit the certificate of your cowardice? Could you survive it? You look at me in anger--the very question makes you indignant; and if that is your feeling, why would you subject the citizens of Berlin to such disgrace? With our weapons we have fought for our just rights and our liberty. G.o.d has willed it that we should be subdued nevertheless, and that you should be the conquerors. But methinks it would redound more to your honor to be the conquerors of honorable men than of cowardly slaves! And when you require of us, the conquered, that we shall give up our manly honor, our weapons, you convert us into abject cowards, and deprive yourselves of all honor in having conquered us. Let us then, sir, keep our weapons; leave us this one consolation, that on our tombstones can be inscribed: 'Freedom died, but with arms in her hand!'" and Gotzkowsky, quite overcome by his painful emotions, leaned back against the wall, breathless, his imploring looks fixed upon the general.

But the latter avoided meeting his eyes, and directed his own darkly toward the ground.

Gotzkowsky perceived the indecision, the wavering of the general, and he felt that he must now risk every thing to overcome his resistance.

"Leave us our weapons. Oh, you are a German! spare your German brethren."

Tottleben sprang from his seat as if a venomous snake had stung him. Dark and terrible were his features, his eyes flashed fire, and raising his right hand threateningly, he cried out: "You remind me in an evil hour that I am a German. Germany drove me out to find in a foreign land the appreciation which my own country refused me! Had I been a foreigner, Germany would long ago have proclaimed my fame; but, being the son of the family, the mother drives me out among strangers--and that they call German good-nature!" and he broke out into a bitter, scornful laugh.

"It is but too true," said Gotzkowsky, sadly. "Our mother Germany is fond of sending her greatest sons out from home on their pilgrimage to fame. For her great men she has but the cradle and the grave. But show your unfeeling mother that you are better than she is; prove to her how unjust she has been. Be magnanimous, and leave us our weapons!"

"I cannot, by Heaven! I cannot do it," said Tottleben, sadly, in a low tone. "I must obey the higher authorities above me--the empress and the commander-in-chief, General Fermore. My orders are very strict, and I have already yielded too much. It is written in these dispatches that the arms must be given up."

"The arms?" said Gotzkowsky, hastily. "Yes, but not _all_ arms. Take some of them--we have three hundred inferior rifles--take them, sir, and fulfil the letter of your orders, and save our honor."

General von Tottleben did not answer immediately. Again he paced the room, from time to time casting sharp, piercing glances at Gotzkowsky, whose firmness and animation seemed to please him. He stopped suddenly, and asked in a voice so low that Gotzkowsky was scarcely able to distinguish the words--"Do you think the Germans will praise me, if I do this thing?"

"All Germany will say, 'He was great in victory, still greater in his clemency toward the conquered,'" cried Gotzkowsky, warmly.

The general dropped his head upon his breast in deep meditation. When he raised it again, there was a pleasant smile upon his face. "Well, then, I will do it. I will once more remember that I am a German.

Where are the three hundred rifles?"

"In the armory, sir."

The general made no reply, but stepped toward his writing-table hastily. He wrote off a few lines, and then with a loud voice called his adjutant again to him. As the latter entered, he handed him the writing. "Let the disarming take place. There are not more than three hundred muskets. Let the citizens bring them to the Palace Square.

There they will be broken up, and thrown into the river."

"O general!" cried Gotzkowsky, his countenance radiant with delight, when the adjutant had left the room, "how I do wish at this moment that you were a woman!"

"I a woman!" cried Count Tottleben, laughing, "why should I be a woman?"

"That I might kiss your hand. Believe me, I never thanked any man so truly and sincerely as I now do you! I am so proud to be able to say, 'Berlin is conquered, but not dishonored!'"

Tottleben bowed amicably toward him. "Now, after this proof of my generosity, the town will hasten to pay its war-tax, will it not?"

Then seeing the dark cloud which gathered on Gotzkowsky's brow, he continued with more vehemence, "You are very dilatory in paying. Be careful how you exhaust my patience."

"Pray let me know, sir, when it is exhausted," said Gotzkowsky. "It is cruel to drive an exhausted animal beyond his strength. Do you not think so?"

The general nodded his a.s.sent in silence.

"You are of my opinion," cried Gotzkowsky. "Well, then, you will be just, and not exact of this exhausted city, wearied unto death, more than she can perform."

With glowing words and persuasive eloquence he explained to the general how impossible it was for the city to pay the demanded war contribution of four millions.

Tottleben let himself again be persuaded. In the presence of this ardent, eloquent German patriot, his German heart resumed its power, and compelled him to mercy and charitableness. He consented to reduce the tax to two millions of dollars, if Gotzkowsky would guarantee the punctual payment of the bonds given by the body of merchants, and give two hundred thousand of it in cash down, as hush-money to the Austrians.

The latter declared himself gladly willing to accept the orders, and to stand security with his whole fortune for their payment. Both then remained silent, as if fatigued by the long and severe war of words, from which Gotzkowsky had always come out victorious.