RUSSIANS AND AUSTRIANS.
After so many horrors and so many hours of anxiety, at last, on the
evening of the second day of the siege, a momentary suspension of
hostilities occurred. Berlin rested after the excitement and turmoil,
and even the besiegers seemed to be reposing. Shells and fire-balls no
longer hissed through the groaning air, and the thunder of the cannon
had died away. Peace--the peace arising from disabling exhaustion
on the part of the combatants, reigned for a short while, and the
belligerents rested for a few hours to invigorate themselves for
a renewal of the fight. The streets of Berlin, lit by the dull
lamplight, were forsaken and empty, and only occasionally from the
dark houses was heard wailing and moaning, either the death-struggle
of a wounded man or the lamentations of his mourning friends. This
death-like silence prevailed for several hours, when it was broken
by a peculiar noise, sounding like the dull, muffled beat of
drums, followed by the measured tread of marching troops. The sound
approached nearer and nearer, and by the dim light of the street lamps
one could distinctly recognize a column of men marching in close order
from the opera-house down the Linden Street.
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 passing along the gloomy and deserted street, was
calculated to produce a feeling of awe in the spectator. Any one
inclined to be superstitious 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 assembled 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 assembly 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 hardships, 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 noble 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 principal councillors to one of
the more remote window-seats. With a slight motion of the hand and a
compassionate 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 assistance 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."
"That is also my opinion," said the burgomaster, and the councillors
agreed with him. They returned to the table, at which the chief
burgomaster still sat, gazing stupidly at the wine-cup.
"Gotzkowsky is of our opinion," said the second burgomaster, turning
toward him; it would be best to yield to the Russian."
"The Russian is a capital fellow!" stammered the chief burgomaster.
"The Russian has a great deal of money, and spends it freely. I
esteem the Russian astonishingly; and my decided opinion is, that we
surrender to the Russian."
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