Part 10 (1/2)
It consisted of more than six thousand men, moving down the ”Linden”
in deep silence, unbroken even by a word of command. To see this dark and silent column pa.s.sing along the gloomy and deserted street, was calculated to produce a feeling of awe in the spectator. Any one inclined to be superst.i.tious might have imagined this warlike force, marching through the streets at the hour of midnight, noiseless and silent as the grave, to be, not living soldiers, but the large and daily increasing cohort of spirits of those fallen in battle, taking its way through the dying town, as birds of prey fly with prophetic wing in circles round the fields of death.
And now the head of the column reaches the Brandenburg Gate. The sentinel stands to arms and challenges. The leader steps up to the officer of the guard and whispers a few words in his ear. This officer bows deeply and respectfully, and gives his sentinel a short order in an under-tone. He then steps back to his command and presents arms.
The leaves of the gate then turned creaking on their hinges, and in solemn silence the column marched out. This long, dark procession, lasted nearly an hour; the gate then closed, and the same quiet resumed its sway in the streets.
Berlin was dreaming or sleeping, praying or weeping, but knew not that in this hour fresh misfortune had fallen upon it; knew not that the Prince of Wurtemberg had just left the town, and retired upon Spandau with his regiments, feeling himself too weak to resist an enemy three times his number. And furthermore, it was not aware that the Austrian Count Lacy, who had already occupied Potsdam and Charlottenburg, with his division of ten thousand men, would in a few hours be at the gates of Berlin.
In serious consultation, in anxious and wavering expectation, the city fathers were a.s.sembled in the town-hall, which they had not quitted for two days. But, at this moment, a pause seemed to have occurred in their deliberations, for both the chief burgomaster, Von Kircheisen, and the aldermen were leaning back in their high, carved chairs, in sleepy repose, contemplating the wax-lights in their silver candelabras, which shed a dim and uncertain light into the more distant parts of the hall. One or the other occasionally threw an inquiring glance toward the door, and leaned forward as if to listen. After a while, steps were heard in the antechamber, and the countenances of the honorable members of the Council lighted up.
”At last he comes,” said the chief burgomaster, raising himself with an effort in his chair, and arranging the chain on his breast, which had got a little out of order.
The door now opened, and the merchant Gotzkowsky entered.
He approached the a.s.sembly with a firm and hurried step. The light of the candles shone upon his countenance, and in his pale, worn features you could read the traces of the hards.h.i.+ps, the efforts and dangers he had undergone during the last two unfortunate days; only his eye still shone with its mild and yet fiery glance, and in his breast there beat still a brave and cheerful heart.
”Ye have called me, honorable gentlemen, and, as ye see, I have not delayed in answering your call.”
”Yes, we have summoned you,” answered the chief burgomaster. ”The Council desire your advice.”
A slight, mocking smile played about Gotzkowsky's lips. ”It is not the first time,” he said, ”that the Council have done me this honor.”
Herr von Kircheisen plucked uneasily at his golden chain, and frowned.
Gotzkowsky's answer had wounded his pride. ”Yes, you gave us your advice yesterday, and it was only by your urgent appeal that we were induced to feed and lodge the Prince of Wurtemberg's troops. We might have spared ourselves the trouble, and our forty oxen remained unslaughtered.”
”The Prince of Wurtemberg has left us, I know,” said Gotzkowsky, sorrowfully, ”and we are thrown again on our own resources. Oh, I could weep over it! Two days and nights have the citizens of Berlin fought with the courage of a lioness defending her young, and all in vain. So much n.o.ble blood shed in vain!”
”We must surrender, then?” said Kircheisen, turning pale.
”Unless the honorable Council can sow dragons' teeth and reap armed men, unless we can mould cannon and create gunners to serve them, we must, indeed, surrender!” said Gotzkowsky, in a sad tone. ”Yes, if we had a dozen cannon like the two at the Kottbuss Gate served by the brave artillerist, Fritz, there might be some hope for us. Those were beautiful shots. Like the sickle of death did they mow down the ranks of the enemy, and whole rows fell at once. Fritz is a hero, and has built himself a monument with the dead bodies of the Russians--and all this for nothing!”
”For nothing! do you say?” sighed the chief burgomaster. ”On the contrary, I rather think it will cost us a mint of money. The Austrians have sent Prince Lowenstein in with a flag of truce, to demand the surrender of the town. The Russians have also sent in a flag of truce with the same demand. Now comes the important question, To which of these two powers shall we surrender? Which will give us the best bargain?” and as the burgomaster stammered out this question, he seized a large goblet of wine which stood before him and emptied it at a draught. He then ordered the servant, who stood at the door, to replenish it with Johannisberger.
The aldermen and senators looked significantly at each other, and the second burgomaster ventured timidly to suggest that the heavy wine might possibly be injurious to the health of his honor the chief burgomaster.
”Wine makes a man brave,” he drawled out, ”and as long as the city fathers have good wine in their cellars, the citizens of Berlin may sleep in peace, for so long will the Council have the courage to brave the enemy! Let me have wine, then, and be brave!” and again he emptied the replenished goblet. He then stared complacently at the ceiling, and seemed lost in contemplation of the laurel-wreath painted above.
The second burgomaster then rose gently from his seat, and taking Gotzkowsky's arm, led him with the two princ.i.p.al councillors to one of the more remote window-seats. With a slight motion of the hand and a compa.s.sionate shrug of the shoulders, he pointed across to Herr von Kircheisen.
”Our poor oppressed chief wishes to acquire pot-valor,” said he, ”and to stimulate himself into a delirium of firmness; but I am afraid that the _delirium tremens_ of fear is the only kind that he will experience. The poor man is very much to be pitied. It is just at such a time, when presence of mind is most requisite, that the good burgomaster regularly loses his head, and his brain rushes off with him like a mad horse to death and destruction.”
”And such a man is the chief magistrate of the town of Berlin,” said Gotzkowsky, mournfully.
”The citizens chose him, and the king confirmed their choice,” said the burgomaster; ”so we ought to be satisfied. But now let us come to the subject which induced us to disturb your slumbers, my friend.
We need your counsel. The Russians and Austrians both summon us to surrender, and the Council of Berlin wish your advice, Gotzkowsky, as to which of these two enemies they shall yield.”
”That is, by Heavens! a choice that the devil himself must envy us,” cried Gotzkowsky, with a sad smile. ”To which party shall we surrender? To the Austrian, who wears the imperial German crown, and yet is the enemy of Germany! or to the Russian, the northern barbarian, whose delight it is to trample every human right in the dust! Let me consider a little while, for it is a sad and painful choice.” And Gotzkowsky strode up and down, absorbed in the deepest reflection. Then turning to the gentlemen, after a long pause, he asked, ”To whom shall we yield? If my brother were among my enemies, I would fear him above all others; for a brother's hatred is most unnatural, and, for that very reason, the most violent. The Austrian is the German brother of the Prussian, and yet they are striving for the right of the first-born, instead of confederating for the general good in unity, in equal authority, equal power, and equal determination. On the contrary, Austria allies herself to Russia, the sworn enemy of Germany, and with the a.s.sistance of this enemy fights against her German brothers. Therefore, my opinion is that, if we really must surrender, and if the Prussian really must yield, let it not be to Austria. Subjection to an equal is doubly humiliating. It is less painful to suffer death at the hand of a barbarian than to be butchered by a brother. I would, then, in this instance, give the preference to Russia.”