Part 30 (1/2)
The general stood at the window, looking into the street. Perhaps he was waiting for Gotzkowsky to give vent to his warm and delighted grat.i.tude before he took leave. But Gotzkowsky did neither the one nor the other. He remained with folded arms, his countenance full of earnest courage and bold determination.
”I will finish what I have commenced,” said he to himself. ”I will keep my word, and not move from the spot before I have pleaded for all those to whom I promised my a.s.sistance. The general is at liberty to curse my importunity, if I only do my duty toward my fellow-citizens.”
As he still remained silent, Tottleben turned toward him laughingly.
”What,” said he, ”are you dumb? Is your eloquence exhausted? Indeed, when I think of all that you have got out of me to-day, it almost makes me smile.” And he broke out into a merry, good-natured laugh.
”Well, laugh, sir,” said Gotzkowsky, ”I know you are fond of a laugh.
For example, you have just played a little joke on the Jews, and made them believe that they have to pay an imposition--”
”Made believe?” interrupted Tottleben, hastily. ”Man! be satisfied that I have remitted two millions to the citizens. Don't speak up now for the Jews.”
”But the Jews are a part of the citizens.”
”Are you crazy, man?” cried Tottleben, violently. ”Is the Jew a citizen with you?”
”Yes,” answered Gotzkowsky, ”as far as paying goes. The Jew is obliged honestly to contribute his proportion of the war-tax. How can you, with any semblance of justice, require of him another further tax, when he has already, in common with us, given up all he possesses?”
”Sir,” cried Tottleben, with suppressed vexation ”this is enough, and more than enough!”
”No,” said Gotzkowsky, smiling. ”It is too much. The Jews are not able to pay it--”
”I will remit their contribution,” cried the general, stamping violently on the floor, ”to please you--just to get rid of you--but now--”
”But now,” interrupted Gotzkowsky, insinuatingly, ”one more favor.”
The general stepped back astounded, and looked at Gotzkowsky with a species of comical terror. ”Do you know that I am almost afraid of you, and will thank G.o.d when you are gone?”
”Then you think of me as the whole town of Berlin thinks of you,” said Gotzkowsky.
The general laughed. ”Your impudence is astonis.h.i.+ng. Well, quick, what is your last request?”
”They are preparing at the New Market a rare and unheard-of spectacle--a spectacle, general, as yet unknown in Germany. You have brought it with you from Russia. You are going to make two men run the gantlet of rods--not two soldiers convicted of crime, but two writers, who have only sinned in spirit against you, who have only exercised the free and highest right of man--_the right to say what they think_.
You are going to have two newspaper writers scourged, because they drew their quills against you. Is not that taking a barbarous revenge for a small offence?”
”A small offence,” cried the general, whose countenance had resumed its dark, fierce expression. ”Come, that's enough. Stop, if you do not wish me to take back all that I have granted you. Do you call that a small offence? Why, sir, the editor of _Spener's Journal_ called me an adventurer, a renegade. Ah! he at least shall feel that I have the power of punis.h.i.+ng.”
”Why,” said Gotzkowsky calmly, ”that would only prove to him that he had hit you on a tender spot.”
”And the scribbler of the _Vossian Gazette_, did he not venture even to attack my gracious empress?” continued Tottleben, perfectly carried away by his indignation. ”He wrote a conversation between peasants, and in it he made fun of the empress. He even went so far as to make his own king join in the dirty talk, in the character of a peasant.
Sir, I am very much surprised that you should defend a man who carries his impudence so far as to canva.s.s and scandalize the conduct of his own king in such a disrespectful and audacious manner.”
”The king is great enough to be able to bear this calumny of little minds. Whosoever is truly great, is not afraid of free speaking nor of calumny. Have you never heard the story of how the king was riding by, where the people were collected at the corner of a street, stretching out their necks to read a pasquinade which had been hung on the wall, and was directed against the king himself? The king reigned in his horse, and read the hand-bill. The people stood in silent terror, for the paper contained a sharp abuse of the king, and a libel on him in verse. What does your excellency think the king did when he had read this most treasonable placard?”
”He had the mob cut it down, as it deserved to be, and the author strung up on the gallows,” cried Tottleben.
”Not at all, sir,” replied Gotzkowsky. ”He said, 'Let the paper be hung lower; the people can't see to read it up so high.' He then saluted the crowd, and rode off, laughing.”
”Did the _great Fritz_ do that?” said Tottleben, unconsciously using the epithet which the Prussian people had applied to their king.