As Oswald hurried down the street, scarcely knowing what he was doing,
he felt suddenly some one seize him by the arm. It was Mr. Timm.
After his encounter with Mr. Schmenckel Mr. Timm had been compelled to
abandon his post of observation near the princess's house in order to
go into the courtyard of one of the adjoining houses, and there wash
off the blood which the director's weighty fist had drawn from mouth
and nose. Timm was as angry as he had ever been in his life. It
was the rage of the hunter when he sees a wild beast tearing his
cunningly-woven nets and escaping from his most ingenious trap. This
booby of a Schmenckel, with his stupid honesty! How he had worked at
the man to dazzle him with golden prospects; and now! It was enough to
turn a man's brain! The glorious fortune all lost! And why? For nothing
but a fit of honesty! And if Oswald, too, should be such a fool! These
blockheads can never be left alone for a moment! And just now the
bleeding will not stop! What enormous strength that fellow has!
Thus it came that the martyr of stupid honesty saw neither Mr.
Schmenckel nor the prince leave the house, nor Oswald go in, and he was
now also but just in time to overtake the latter as he was rather
running than walking down the street.
"Hallo! sir!"
"What is it?"
"Well, I ask _you_ that!"
"Is that you?"
"Who else? How did it go? Did the old one give in promptly?" And he was
about to slip his arm familiarly in Oswald's arm; but Oswald stepped
back.
"Don't touch me!" he said, "or I will beat your brains out!"
"Oh ho!" said Timm, giving way; "is he crazy too?"
"Wretch!" cried Oswald. "You wretch! who make vulgarity your
profession, and speculate on vice. Let me never find you again in my
way, or you will repent it!"
He left Timm, who had first turned ashy pale and then broken out into
loud laughter, and hurried away. He did not mind where his feet carried
him! He went as in a dream, and what he saw and heard appeared to him
only like dreamy images: curious, terrified faces of women and children
in doors and windows; dense crowds of men, who seemed to tell each
other fearful things with wild gestures and loud exclamations; running
and shouting, yelling and whistling on all sides, and between the
mournful ring of alarm-bells from all the steeples. Then, as Oswald
left the aristocratic portion of the town further and further behind
him, a new sound mingled with the others: a very peculiar rattling
noise, and a low thundering, which made the very houses tremble.
But all this did not rouse him from his waking dream. The sorrow for
his ruined happiness had made him blind and deaf to the sorrow of a
whole ill-treated nation. Suddenly a ghastly spectacle startled him.
From one of the side streets a young man came running out, who cried:
"Treason! treason! They are firing at us!" The young man's blouse was
torn and covered with blood; his face was pale, his hair dishevelled;
he staggered like a drunken man, and suddenly he fell down right before
Oswald. Oswald raised him up, and in an instant a crowd of men and
women were around them. "He is dying!" cried the men. "A curse upon the
executioners!" The women shrieked. One cried out: "Take him; don't you
see the gentleman can hardly stand himself!" A man took the dying youth
from Oswald's arms. Suddenly Oswald felt some one touch him. He turned
around and saw Berger. Oswald's soul had during the last hours been so
overwhelmed with strange, exceptional events and sensations that he was
prepared even for the most extraordinary occurrences. And if there was
a man in this world whom he wished to see just then it was his friend
and teacher, the companion of his fate. Oswald did not ask him how? and
whence? He threw himself into Berger's arms.
"Glad you are here," said the other, hurriedly; "come! let the dead
bury the dead. We must work and be doing as long as it is day!"
They hastened off together.
With every step they came nearer to the crater of the revolution which
had broken out a few hours before. In this part of the city barricades
were going up, built by a thousand brave and skilful hands, and manned
by death-defying men and boys, mostly belonging to the lower classes of
the people. These improvised fortresses did not inspire much hope of
being able to resist long, for they consisted mostly of one, or at best
of several, heavy wagons, torn-off planks, and other similar objects,
hastily piled up together, while the arms of the small garrison were
generally only rusty old swords, pikes, guns without locks, and similar
instruments.
Berger stopped here and there giving advice, encouraging others, and
calling with his deep, sonorous voice "To arms! to the barricades!" But
whenever Oswald offered to lay hand on the work himself he kept him
from it.
"Not here," he said; "these are only our outposts, which must be given
up quickly. No barricade can be defended successfully in this straight,
wide street. The gross of the revolution is further back."
Thus they came to Broad street, near Mrs. Black's private hotel.
The hotel was a corner house, and a narrow by-street led past its side
into Brother street. In the narrow alley was the Dismal Hole. Here the
excitement was intense. From the great square, near the palace, platoon
firing was heard, and quite a cannonade; but no trace of barricades was
yet to be seen.
"Are these men mad?" cried Berger. "If they do not mean to throw up
fortifications here, where will they do it?"
On the steps of the hotel, surrounded by a crowd, stood a gentleman in
a white cravat who spoke eagerly to the people: "His majesty has been
pleased to receive the deputation." "Away with your majesty!" cried an
angry voice. "His majesty is pleased to shoot his faithful subjects and
to receive them with grapeshot!" cried another voice. "Gentlemen!"
shrieked the orator, "do not give way to feelings of hatred and
revenge. His majesty consents to withdraw the troops as soon as you lay
down your arms." "And as soon as we offer our throats to the knife!"
cried a tremendous voice, and a man suddenly stood by the side of the
orator in the white cravat.
It was Berger. His gray hair was hanging wildly around his uncovered
head; his eyes were burning as if the revolution itself had taken his
form and voice. "Will," he continued, "you hesitate, and fear, and
negotiate, while your brethren are murdered in the next street? Are you
ever going on trusting, you trusting, deceived, cheated people. You
will gain nothing but what you conquer, arms in hand; you will have no
liberty which you do not purchase with your blood. Do not chaffer and
bargain any longer, but give the high price--your life's blood!--for
the precious boon!--for liberty! To arms! To arms!"
"To arms! To arms!" It resounded with the voice of thunder on all
sides. "Victory or death! To arms!"
The unarmed hands rose, as if to swear.
Berger had hurried down the steps. They surrounded him; they pressed
his hands. Some asked him to "take the matter in hand;" a leader they
must have.
Berger looked around. Suddenly he rushed towards a tall, thin gentleman
who was pushing his way through the crowd.
"There is your man!" he cried, taking the tall stranger by the hand.
"He must be our leader. Step up there, Oldenburg, and speak to them
only a few words. You understand that better than anybody else!"
Oldenburg was on the porch.
"Gentlemen!" he said, raising his hat; "let us follow the fashion of
the day and build a barricade. I practiced the art a fortnight ago for
a little while in the streets of Paris. If you will make use of my
experience for want of a better man, I am heartily at your service. I
am ready to build with you, to fight with you, to conquer with you,
and, if it must be, to die with you!"
The iron ring in Oldenburg's voice, his manner of speaking easy and yet
so persuasive had a charm which the crowd could not resist. It flashed
like an electric shock through all hearts.
"You shall be our leader!" they cried on all sides. "Let the
black-beard be our captain!"
"Well, then," said Oldenburg, raising his voice; "every man to the
barricade!"
The magic word brought about incredible activity. The confused,
helpless mass suddenly came to order. In all minds but one thought
seemed to be uppermost--to build a barricade--and all hands were busy
at the one common work.
"We must be done in ten minutes!" said Oldenburg, "or we might just as
well not have commenced at all."
Oldenburg's marvellous coolness and quickness, his sharp eye and his
firm decision, did honor to his place as leader. He seemed to be
everywhere at once, and his clear, loud voice was heard at all points.
Here they tore up the pavement as he commanded; there they raised the
large slabs of the sidewalk to arm the sides of the upturned wagons,
which had to serve as bulwarks here, as well as in all places where
time is pressing. Doors taken from their hinges, planks bridging over
gutters, bags filled with sand, completed the strength of this
structure, which rose with a rapidity proportionate to the feverish
excitement that beat in all hearts. Every muscle, every sinew, was
strained to the utmost; boys were carrying loads which ordinarily a man
would have considered heavy; men who only knew how to use a pen
suddenly seemed to be endowed with muscles of steel. Above all,
however, a man in a worn-out velvet coat signalized himself by exploits
in comparison with which all the rest seemed to be but the work of
pigmies. Wherever anything was to be lifted or to be dragged which no
one could master, they called laughingly for "Hercules"--the popular
voice had given him the name after the first five minutes--and Hercules
ran up, stretched out his mighty arms, or leaned his broad shoulders
against it, and the immoveable mass seemed of a sudden to become a mere
trifle.
"Bravo, Mr. Schmenckel!" said Oldenburg, patting the giant on the back;
"but spare your strength; we shall need it all."
"Pshaw, your excellency, baron!" replied Mr. Schmenckel, wiping the
perspiration from his face with his sleeve; "that is not anything."
"Hercules, here!" some one called.
"Coming!" replied Mr. Schmenckel, and hurried to where he was wanted.
"Now we want the best!" murmured Oldenburg, looking at what had been
done and casting an inquiring glance at the roofs of the houses on both
sides of the barricade, where men were busy taking off the slates and
tiles as he had directed. "If Berger does not bring arms all our work
is for nothing."
Just then Berger came with five or six young men. Each of them had a
rifle. Others were dragging along a large bag filled with ammunition.
Berger, who had anticipated the revolution for several days and made
his preparations in his mind, knew all the gunsmiths and shops where
arms were kept in the whole neighborhood. He had taken possession of
the nearest. A shout of joy arose when the little troop reached the
barricade. Soon after an old fowling-piece and a rusty gun with an
old-fashioned flint-lock were brought up, and last of all four pistols
from the lodgings of a couple of officers which had been luckily
discovered. The arms were at once distributed, and every man had his
post assigned him. Every armed man had another man by him to load. In
the kitchen, in the basement of an adjoining house, bullets were cast
under the direction of an old one-eyed man who was an old soldier; and
boys, merry storm-petrels of every barricade-fight, were appointed to
carry the balls to the defenders.
The quarter of an hour which Oldenburg had allowed as the longest time
that could be given to the erection of the barricade was out, and the
very next moment showed how accurately he had calculated. The rifles
had but just been loaded and the men had taken their places when a
battalion of infantry came marching up the street. A major rode at the
head. He ordered "Halt!" at some distance from the barricade, and rode
up alone till within a few yards. He was an old, gray-haired soldier
with a good-natured face, who evidently did not like the duty he had to
fulfil. His voice sounded wavering, and trembled a little as he raised
it as high as he could, and said,
"You, there! I must get through here with my men; and if you do not
take that thing there out of my way willingly, I shall have to use
force. I should be sorry, for your sake, to have to do so."
Oldenburg appeared on the barricade.
"In the name of these men!" he said, raising his hat politely to the
major, "I declare that we are determined to stand by each other, and to
hold this barricade as long as we can!"
Oldenburg's appearance and his words evidently made an impression on
the old soldier.
"You are the leader of these men?"
"I have that honor."
"You seem to be an intelligent man. Then you must see that that thing
there is of no avail, and that your few charges cannot possibly do you
any good. Pull that thing down; it is all right."
"I am sorry I cannot comply with your request, and must adhere to my
resolution."
"Well, then," said the major, more annoyed than angry, "you will all go
to the devil."
With these words he turned his horse and galloped back to his men.
Oldenburg was glad when the conversation was at an end. His quick eye
had showed him that the kindly words of the major had not failed to
make an impression on the crowd, and that more than one looked
undecided and doubtful. In a mass of people enthusiasm effervesces
quickly. He turned round and said:
"If there is one among you who had rather live for country and liberty
than die for them, he had better say so now. It is time yet!"
The men stood motionless and silent. Many a heart no doubt beat
painfully, but every one felt that the die was cast, and that it would
be disgraceful treason to turn back now.
The drums beat on the opposite side, and the terrible summons drove
every hesitation out of their hearts.
Oldenburg cried, with a voice which drowned the rattling of the drums
like loud trumpet-sound: "Every man to his post! Not a shot before I
give the sign! Not a stone must move!"
Oldenburg remained standing on the top of the barricade and saw the
column approaching at quick-step; in the centre the drummers, and the
major, who commanded with his sepulchral voice,
"Battalion! Halt! Aim! Fire!"
The flash came; the balls hailed upon the barricade and the walls of
the houses.
"Shoulder arms! March!"
"Hurrah!" cried the men, rushing with charged bayonets upon the
barricade.
"Hurrah!" cried Oldenburg, still standing on the barricade and waving
his hat.
And the rifles of the little garrison gave fire, and the stones came
down rattling from the roofs upon the heads of the unlucky soldiers;
and when the smoke and the dust slowly blew away, the company which had
come up in military regularity was seen running away in wild flight,
and before them a riderless horse, and between them little groups of
three or four men who carried dead or wounded men on litters beyond the
reach of the barricade.
Of the men of the people only one had been wounded, and not by a
hostile ball; the old, rusty flint-lock had burst at the first
discharge, and a piece of it had struck the head of one of the
marksmen. This accident only increased the good humor of the company.
They cried hurrah! they congratulated each other, they laughed, they
joked, and everybody was in the best of humor.
There was perhaps but one man behind the barricade who did not share
the general joy, and this man was Oldenburg. He was as fully convinced
as any one that fight they must, but he doubted a happy issue. He had
been in Paris during the month of February; he had fought there; and he
could not but see the difference. There he had seen a people fully
conscious of the weakness of the government against which they rose,
and clearly understanding the whole situation; here he found nothing
but uncertainty, divided opinions, and doubts. But the genius of
mankind does not always require a clear, perfect understanding in its
defenders; a vague impulse, a dim perception even, leads often to
glorious deeds. These harmless men, knowing little of politics, and
quite willing to rest content with very small concessions, might be
fighting only against the brutal rule of a single caste, and not for
the free republic of the future; but great effects could not fail to be
obtained even here, and he who cuts off a diseased limb may by it save
the whole body.
Thus Oldenburg tried to console himself for the fears with which the
appearance of this revolution had inspired him. He had been on the
square near the palace when the fatal two shots fell which were
destined to be the signal for the explosion, and when the troops had
made their first attack _en masse_ against the unarmed multitude. He
and other good men had in vain tried to stop the shedding of blood;
they had pushed their way through the soldiers at the risk of their
lives in order to explain to the commanding officer the madness of such
a butchery. But all they had heard in reply was open scorn, and at best
rude orders to mind their own business. When Oldenburg saw that he
could not be of any use in this way, and that matters had come to a
crisis, he had tried to reach Melitta's lodgings in Broad street to
place her and the children in safety. But he had been compelled to make
a wide circuit, for the troops had already taken possession of all the
approaches from the side of the palace, and he barely escaped more than
once being arrested. Thus it happened that he reached the hotel only at
the moment when the people were deliberating whether they should offer
resistance or not Oldenburg took only time to inquire at the hotel
after Melitta, where he heard to his delight that she and the children
had already gone early in the morning to Doctor Braun's, who lived in a
remote suburb, to which the _emeute_ was not likely to extend. Then he
had thrown himself heart and soul into the torrent of the revolution.
And now he stood, after the first attack had been successfully
repulsed, with crossed arms on the barricade, in a sheltered position,
from which he could overlook at once the movements of the enemy and the
space behind the barricade, anxiously awaiting the return of Berger,
whom he had sent out with a patrol to procure if possible more
ammunition, and to establish a communication with the nearest
barricades. For so far the rising was without any organization; no
concerted plan to produce united efforts; every barricade was fighting
by itself. Besides, day-light began to fade away, and night, although
it might leave the troops in doubt as to the strength of the enemy,
also tended to increase the confusion on the side of the people, which
is always an element of weakness in popular risings. Berger returned
soon afterwards, bringing a few more guns but no comfort. The adjoining
streets, he reported, were also barricaded; but the barricades were
badly constructed, and held by too few men, especially the nearest one,
in Brother street.
"I do not think they can hold it long," he added, "and then we are
lost, because the troops can flank us here through this narrow
alley"--and he pointed to Gertrude street, which passed by the hotel
and led from Broad street into Brother street. "We must necessarily
stop up that street also and occupy it, which can easily be done. I
have directed Oswald and Schmenckel to do it at once."
"Whom?" inquired Oldenburg, who had no suspicion that Oswald could be
here, and thought he had misunderstood Berger.
But he had not time to wait for Berger's reply, for at that moment the
drums beat once more, and the second company came up to storm the
barricade. This time the major on his white horse was not there. The
old man, who had been dangerously wounded in the head by a ball, was on
his way to the hospital.
The second attack was more serious, although no more successful than
the first. The captain in command gave the order to fire three times in
rapid succession, and then rushed his men with great violence upon the
barricade. But as Oldenburg and his men had again reserved their fire
till the last moment, the loss was very great for the attacking party;
upon whom, moreover, such a storm of bullets, tiles, and stones rained
down from the adjoining houses that they once more retreated, carrying
their dead and wounded with them.
But this time the men of the people also had their losses. A young man
who had imprudently exposed himself was shot through the breast and
died instantly, while another had his arm shattered by a ricochet ball.
Thus the men of the barricade had had their blood baptism, and now only
they felt as if they were indissolubly bound to the cause of the
revolution. Men who had seen each other to-day for the first time shook
hands and pledged themselves not to leave each other till death should
part them forever. Women, who ordinarily went out of their way to avoid
meeting common people, now went about among the fighting men and
distributed bread and wine. Among these gentle Samaritans one was
especially remarkable by her stately appearance and her venerable gray
hairs. It was Mrs. Black, who found ample opportunity to-night to
gratify her passion for feeding the hungry and nursing the sick.
Oldenburg now suggested what he had learnt in Paris to be eminently
useful under such circumstances: that lights should be placed in all
the windows which looked upon the barricade, so as to improvise a
brilliant illumination, to which the full-moon, shining bright and
clear on the blue sky, contributed generously. It was a strange
contrast: the sacred peace high up in the heavenly regions, and down
here a city raging in the fever of revolution, where the howling of
alarm-bells and the thunder of cannon, the rattling of small arms and
the mad cries of the combatants, were horribly mingled with each other.
And to make the appalling scene still more so, low, hot clouds of smoke
came now floating slowly over the roofs of the houses. Fire had broken
out at several places at once; the city was threatened with a universal
conflagration! Who had time to-night to help and to save?
Oldenburg looked for Berger but could not see him anywhere. He wanted
to ask what he had meant when he spoke of Oswald, for he now
recollected having caught a glimpse of a man who had reminded him
somewhat of Oswald Stein. But just then loud cries were heard from
Gertrude street, and a few shots fell. Oldenburg, fearing the troops
might have taken the barricade in Brother street and were pushing on
through Gertrude street, rapidly collected a handful of men and with
them rushed down into that street. Here a surprise had been in
contemplation, and the danger had only been averted by Schmenckel's
giant strength and by the heroic bravery of Berger and Oswald.
Oswald had joined the barricade-builders in Gertrude street in order to
avoid Oldenburg, whom he had seen to his great surprise first on the
steps of the hotel in the midst of the excited crowd, and then as
captain on top of the barricade. He felt it impossible to meet just now
the man whom he had at one time revered as a superior being, and at
another time hated as his bitterest enemy. He did not wish to renew the
contest between such feelings in his own heart; he was so weary, weary
unto death! The excitement around him felt to him like a song rocking
him to sleep with his weary sick heart, and when he heard the first
bullets whistle around him during the attack upon the barricade where
he then was, his only thought was: Oh, that one of them were intended
for me!
He said so much to Berger, as they were sitting on the barricade in
Gertrude street to rest for a moment from their exhausting efforts.
"No," replied Berger; "that is not right. Death itself does not pay our
bills; it only tears them, without paying them, and throws the
fragments at the feet of the creditor. But death in the cause of
liberty!--it pays them all."
He seized Oswald's hand, looking around anxiously to see that no one
could hear them.
"I am afraid of life, Oswald! Death is a fearful asylum, in which one
may awake again! Suicide is such a death to me, Oswald. If that were
not so I should long since have died by my own hand. For it is easier
to die, in order to escape from ourselves, than to live for others. I
have found that out. I have drunk the bitter cup, and the dregs are
very bitter. Oswald! at first I had courage enough, and lived bravely;
but after six months of such life my courage is gone and my strength
exhausted. My nerves cannot bear it any longer. That is why I feel so
joyfully this day, on which the people have at last shaken off their
disgraceful apathy to rise in their might. If I could die to-day for
this people, whom now for the first time in my life I find not to be
contemptible any more--Oswald! it would be such good fortune as I had
never expected. And then," he continued, after a pause, "another piece
of good fortune has befallen me to-day. I have met again my oldest
enemy, whom I hated most bitterly, and my youngest and most beloved
friend."
He pressed Oswald's hand, who said, smiling:
"Found your oldest enemy? was that fortunate?"
Berger told Oswald in a few words of his meeting with Count Malikowsky
that morning, and that Schmenckel, who had helped them gloriously in
building up the barricade, was Prince Waldenberg's father. "The
low-born man the father of a prince, the prince the son of a low-born
man--that would make a nice novel," he said with a grim smile.
"Perhaps I can give you a companion-story to yours," answered Oswald;
and he informed Berger of the discoveries he had made that day with
regard to his own birth. "That is strange!" said Berger; "very strange!
And did you not tell me you loved Helen?"
"More than my life!"
"And you refused all that splendor to remain faithful to your old
flag?"
Oswald shook his head.
"No, Berger!" he said; "I am not good and great enough for that, as you
think in your goodness and greatness. She could never be mine. Too many
things had happened that could never be forgiven and forgotten. I had
preferred others to her, and she had preferred another man to me. That
Prince Waldenberg was her betrothed."
"Why do you say _was_?"
"Because I found them leaving town. She had recollected at the last
moment that she had a heart in her bosom whose longing not all the
riches of the world could satisfy."
"Strange! strange!" murmured Berger. "You, both of you: the baron's son
who makes common cause with the people, and the low-born man's son who
sits among princes, are rivals for the favor of the same lady! And she
rejects you because she has no suspicion of your noble birth, and she
accepts the prince because she thinks that the same blood flows in his
veins, of which he is so proud! What a pity the world does not know
this and must not know it! They might possibly find out then what the
difference is between noble blood and common blood!"
"You, at all events, do not seem to value the difference quite as much
as formerly. I can remember the time when you thought it morally
impossible to be the friend of a nobleman."
"You allude to my friendship with Oldenburg," said Berger, calmly. "I
tell you, Oswald, if there ever was a man who deserved to be loved and
honored, Oldenburg is that man. If any man could ever have reconciled
me with the world, Oldenburg would have been that man. If I ever could
humble myself before any man and acknowledge him to be my lord and
master, that man is Oldenburg. I know you hate him because the woman
whom you have forsaken thinks more of him than of the whole world. That
is not fair, Oswald. Oldenburg has also spoken of you like a friend. I
should be very happy, Oswald, if you could be reconciled with each
other before I leave you forever."
"My turn comes first!" said Oswald. "Do you know what you once told me
in Grunwald? 'You will die before me,' you said, 'for the Big Serpent
is tough of life, and you are too soft, far too gentle for this hard
world.'"
"That was long ago. This last year has made the Big Serpent dull and
feeble. But what is that?"
A noise, coming from a low restaurant with steps leading up from the
basement, made both men jump up from their seats. They seized their
arms and hurried, followed by other men of the same barricade, to the
place, where now several shots were fired. These were the same shots
which Oldenburg had heard when he was roused from his effort to seek
rest on his barricade in Broad street.