More than two weeks had passed since this last interview. January of
1853 was drawing to a close and still there seemed no likelihood of an
end to the investigations against the workmen.
Berger observed this with great anxiety. He had long since presented
the petition for pardon: the time was drawing near when it would be
laid before the Emperor, and yet, whenever the subject of the journey
to Vienna arose, Sendlingen had some reason or motive for urging that
he could not leave and that there was still time. When he made such a
remark Berger looked at him searchingly, as if he were trying to read
his inmost soul and then departed sadly, shaking his head. Every day
Sendlingen's conduct seemed to him more enigmatical and unnatural. For
this was the one means of saving Victorine's life! If he still
hesitated it could only proceed from fear of the agony of the moment,
from cowardice!
But as often as Berger might and did say this to himself, he did not
succeed in convincing himself. For did not Sendlingen at the same time
evince in another matter and where the welfare and sufferings of
strangers to him were concerned, a moral courage rarely found in this
country and under this government.
The conflict between Sendlingen and the Minister of Justice had
gradually assumed a very singular character; it had become a
"thoroughly Austrian business," as Berger sometimes thought with the
bitter smile of a patriot. To Sendlingen's respectful but decided
answer, the Minister had replied as rudely and laconically as possible,
commanding him to hand over the investigation forthwith to Werner. No
one could now doubt any longer that a further refusal would prove
dangerous, and Sendlingen sent his rejoinder,--a brief dignified
protest against this unjustifiable encroachment--with the feeling that
he had at the same time undersigned his own dismissal. And indeed in
any other country a violent solution would have been the only one
conceivable; but here it was different. Certainly a severe censure from
the Minister followed and he talked of "further steps" to be taken, but
the lightning that one might have expected after this thunder, did not
follow. The same result, was, however, sought by circuitous means,
attempts were made to weary the two Judges and to put them out of
conceit with the case. When they proposed to the Court that the case
against one of the Accused might be discontinued, the Crown-Advocate
promptly opposed it and called the Supreme Court to his assistance.
With all that, the police were feverishly busy and overwhelmed the two
Judges by repeatedly bringing forward new grounds of suspicion against
the prisoners, and these had to be gone through however evidently
worthless they might be at the first glance.
There was not a single person attached to the Law-Courts with all their
diversity of character, who did not follow the struggle of Sendlingen
for the independence of the Judge's position, with sympathy, and the
townspeople were unanimous in their enthusiastic admiration. This
courageous steadfastness was all the more highly reckoned as it was
visibly undermining his strength. His hair grew gray, his bearing less
erect, and his face now almost always bore an expression of melancholy
disquiet. People were not surprised at this; it must naturally deeply
afflict this man who was so manifestly designed to attain the highest
places in his profession, perhaps even to become the Chief Judge of the
Empire--to be daily and hourly threatened with dismissal.
Only the three participators in the secret, and Berger in particular,
knew that the unhappy man could scarcely endure any longer the torture
of uncertainty about his child's fate. All the more energetic,
therefore, were Berger's attempts to put an end at least to this
unnecessary torment but again and again he spoke in vain.
This occurred too on the last day in January. Sendlingen stood by his
answer: "There is still time, the petition has not yet come into the
Emperor's hands," and Berger was sorrowfully about to leave his
Chambers, when the door was suddenly flung open and Herr von Werner
rushed in.
"My Lord," cried the old gentleman almost beside himself with joy and
waving a large open letter in his hand like a flag, "I have just
received this; this has just been handed to me. It means that I am
appointed your successor, it is the decree."
Sendlingen turned pale. "I congratulate you," he said with difficulty.
"When are you to take over the conduct of the Courts?"
"On the 22nd February," was the answer. "Oh, how happy I am! And you I
am sure will excuse me! Why should the news distress you? You will in
any case be leaving here at the end of February to----" he, stopped in
embarrassment. "To go to Pfalicz as Chief Justice of the Higher Court
there," he continued hastily. "We will continue to believe so, to
suppose the contrary would be nonsensical. You have annoyed the
Minister and he is taking a slight revenge--that is all! Good-bye,
gentlemen, I must hurry to my wife!" The old gentleman tripped away
smiling contentedly.
"That is plain enough," said Sendlingen, after a pause, turning to his
friend. "My successor is appointed without my being consulted: the
decree is sent direct to him and not through me; more than that, I am
not even informed at the same time, when I am to hand over the conduct
of the Courts to him. To the minister I am already a dead man! But what
can it matter to me in my position? Werner's communication only
frightened me for a moment, while I feared that I had to surrender to
him forthwith. But the 22nd February--that is three weeks hence. By
that time _everything_ will be decided."
Two days later, on Candlemas Day, on which in some parts of Catholic
Austria people still observe the custom of paying one another little
attentions, Sendlingen also received a present from the minister. The
letter read thus: "You are to surrender the conduct of the Courts on
the 22nd February to the newly appointed Chief Justice, Herr von
Werner. Further instructions regarding yourself will be forwarded you
in due course."
The tone of this letter spoke plainly enough. For "further
instructions" were unnecessary if the previous arrangement--his
appointment to Pfalicz--was adhered to. His dismissal was manifestly
decreed.
All the functionaries of the Courts fell into the greatest state of
excitement: who was safe if Sendlingen fell? And wherever the news
penetrated, it aroused sorrow and indignation. On the evening of the
same day the most prominent men of the town met so as to arrange a fete
to their Chief Justice before his departure. It was determined to
present him with an address and to have a farewell banquet.
Berger, who had been at the meeting, left as soon as the resolution was
arrived at, and hurried to Sendlingen for he knew that his friend would
need his consolation to-day most of all. But Sendlingen was so calm
that it struck Berger as almost peculiar. "I have had time to get
accustomed to these thoughts," he said.
"How do you think of living now?" asked Berger.
"I shall move to Gratz," replied Sendlingen quickly; he had manifestly
given utterance to a long-cherished resolve.
"Won't you be too lonely there?" objected Berger. "Why won't you go to
Vienna? By the inheritance from your wife, you are a rich man who does
not require to select the Pensionopolis on the Mur on account of its
cheapness. In Vienna you have many friends, there you will have the
greatest incitement to literary work, besides you may not altogether
disappear from the surface. Your career is only forcibly interrupted
but not nearly ended. A change of system, or even a change in the
members of the Ministry, would bring you back into the service of the
State, and, perhaps, to a higher position than the one you are now
losing."
"My mind is made up. Brigitta is going to Gratz in a few days to take a
house and make all arrangements."
They talked about other things, about the fete that had been arranged
to-day. "I will accept the address," Sendlingen explained, "but not the
banquet. I have not the heart for it." Berger vehemently opposed this
resolution; he must force himself to put in an appearance at least for
an hour; the fete had reference not only to himself personally, but to
a sacred cause, the independence of Judges. All this he unfolded with
such warmth, that Sendlingen at length promised that he would consider
it.
The next morning the Vienna papers published the news of the measures
taken with regard to Sendlingen, which they had learnt by private
telegrams. A severe censorship hampered the Austrian press in those
days; the papers had been obliged to accustom the public to read more
between the lines than the lines themselves: and this time, too, they
hit upon a safe method of criticism. As if by a preconcerted agreement,
all the papers pronounced the news highly incredible; and that it was,
moreover, wicked to attribute such conduct to the strict but just
government which Austria enjoyed. A severer condemnation than this
defence of the government against "manifestly malicious reports" could
not easily be imagined, and the public understood it as it was
intended.
In a moment, Sendlingen's name was in every mouth, and the
investigation against the workmen the talk of the day, first in the
capital, soon throughout the whole country.
A flood of telegrams and letters, inquiries and enthusiastic
commendations, suddenly burst upon Sendlingen. Had there been room in
his poor heart, in his weary tormented brain, for any lucid thought or
feeling, he would now have been able, in the days of his disgrace, to
have held up his head more proudly than ever. It was not saying too
much when Berger told him that a whole nation was now showing how
highly it valued him. But he scarcely noticed it and continued, dark
and hopeless, to do his duty and to drag on the Sisyphus-task of his
investigation in combat with both the police and the Crown lawyers.
Suddenly those hindrances ceased. When Sendlingen one morning entered
his Chambers soon after the news of his deposal had appeared in the
papers, he for the first time, for weeks, found no information of the
police on the table. That might be an accident, but when there was none
the second day, he breathed again. The Superintendent of Police at
Bolosch was, the zealous servant of his masters; if he in twice
twenty-four hours did not discover the slightest trace of high treason,
there must be good reason for it. In the same way nothing more was
heard from the Crown-Advocate.
"They have almost lost courage in the face of the general indignation!"
cried Berger triumphantly. "Franz has just told me that Brigitta is to
start the day after to-morrow for Gratz. Let her wait a few days, and
so spare the old lady having to make the journey to Pfalicz by the very
round about way of Gratz."
"You cannot seriously hope that," said Sendlingen turning away, and so
Berger went into Brigitta's room later on to bid her good-bye.
The old lady was eagerly reading a book which she hastily put on one
side as he entered. "I am disturbing you," he said. "What are you
studying so diligently?"
"Oh, a novel," she replied quickly. Her eyes were red and she must have
been crying a great deal lately.
"I thought perhaps it was a description of Gratz," said he jokingly.
"It seems to me that you have a genuine fear of this weird city where
life surges and swells so mightily!" And he attempted to remove her
fears by telling her much of the quiet, narrow life of the town on the
Mur.
While he was speaking, the book, which she had laid on her workbox,
slid to the ground and he picked it up before she had time to bend down
for it. It was a French grammar. "Great heavens!" he cried in
astonishment. "You are taking up the studies of your youth again,
Fraeulein Brigitta?"
The old lady stood there speechless, her face crimson, as if she had
been caught in a crime. "I have been told," she stammered, "that--that
one can hardly get along there with only German."
"In Gratz?" Berger could not help laughing heartily. "Who has been
playing this joke upon you? Reassure yourself. You will get along with
the French in Gratz without any grammar." Still laughing, he said
good-bye and promised to visit her in Gratz.
Meanwhile the excitement into which the press and the public were
thrown by the "Sendlingen incident" grew daily. In Bolosch new
proposals were constantly being made, to have the fete on a magnificent
and uncommon scale. It did not satisfy the popular enthusiasm that the
address to be presented was covered with thousands of signatures. A
proposal was made in the town-council to call the principal street
after Sendlingen: some of the prominent men of the town wanted to
collect subscriptions for a "Sendlingen Fund" whose revenue should be
devoted to such officers of the State as, like Sendlingen, had become
the victims of their faithfulness to conviction; the gymnastic
societies resolved upon a torch-light procession. The chairman of the
Committee arranging the festivities--he was the head of the first
Banking house of the town--was in genuine perplexity; he still did not
know which acts of homage Sendlingen would accept and he sought
Berger's interposition.
"Save me," implored the active banker. "People are pressing me and the
Chief Justice is dumb. Yesterday I hoped to get a definite answer from
him but he broke off and talked of our business."
"Business? What business?" asked Berger.
"I am just doing a rather complicated piece of business for him,"
answered the Banker. "I thought that you, his best friend, would have
known about it. He is converting the Austrian Stock in which his
property was hitherto invested, into French, English and Dutch stock,
and a small portion of it into ready money."
"Why?" asked Berger in surprise. "He is going to stay in Austria?"
"So I asked," replied the Banker, "and received an answer which I had,
willy nilly, to take as pertinent. For he is hardly to be blamed, if
after his experiences, his belief in the credit of the State has become
a little shaky."
Berger could not help agreeing with this, and therefore did not refer
to it in his talk with Sendlingen. With regard to the fete he received
a satisfactory answer. Sendlingen without any further hesitation,
accepted the banquet and even the torch-light procession. Both were to
take place on the 21st February, the last day of his term of office.
All this was telegraphed to Vienna and was bravely used by the papers.
Even in Bolosch, they said, these melancholy reports, so humiliating to
every Austrian, were not seriously believed; how long would the
government hesitate to contradict them? The demand was so universal,
the excitement so great, that an official notice of a reassuring
character was actually issued. The government, announced an official
organ, had in no way interfered with the investigation; that this was
evident, the present position of the inquiry, now without doubt near a
close, sufficiently proved. With regard, however, to Sendlingen's
dismissal there was some "misunderstanding" in question.
As so often before, in the case of the like oracular utterances from a
similar source, everybody was now asking what this really meant. Berger
thought he had hit the mark and exultingly said to his friend: "Hurrah!
they have now entirely lost their courage! They are only temporising so
as not to have to admit that public opinion has made an impression upon
them."
Sendlingen shrugged his shoulders. "It is all one to me, George," he
said.
"Now--that I can understand," replied Berger warmly. "In a few months
you will speak differently! When do you go to Vienna?"
Sendlingen reflected. "On the seventeenth I should say," he at length
replied hesitatingly. "That is to say if Dernegg and I can really
dismiss the workmen on the sixteenth as we hope to do."
This hope was realised; on the 16th February 1852, the workmen were
released from prison. Their first step related to Sendlingen: in the
name of all, Johannes Novyrok made a speech of thanks of which this was
the peroration:
"We know well what we ought to wish you in return for all you have done
for us: good-luck and happiness for you and for all whom you love! But
mere good wishes won't help you, and we can do nothing for you,
although every man of us would willingly shed his blood for your sake,
and as to praying, my Lord, it is much the same thing--you may
remember, perhaps, what I have already said to you on the subject. And
so we can only say: think of us when you are in affliction of mind and
you will certainly be cheered! You can say to yourself: 'I have lifted
these people out of their misfortune and lessened their burden as much
as I could,'--and you will breathe again. For I believe this is the
best consolation that any man can have on this poor earth. God bless
you! for you are noble and good, and what you do is well done, and sin
and evil are far from you. A thousand thanks, my Lord. Farewell!"
"Farewell!" murmured Sendlingen, his voice choking as he turned away.
... On the next day, the 17th February, Sendlingen should have started
by the morning train to Vienna; he had solemnly promised Berger to do
so the evening before. The latter, therefore, was much alarmed when he
accidentally heard, in the course of the afternoon, that Sendlingen was
still in Chambers.
He hastened to him. "Why have you again put off going?" he asked
impetuously.
Sendlingen had turned pale. "I have not been able to bring myself to
it," he answered softly.
"And you know what is at stake!" cried Berger in great excitement,
wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. "Victor, this is cowardice!"
"It is not," he replied as gently as before, but with the greatest
determination. "If I had been a coward, I would long since have had the
audience."
Berger looked at him in astonishment. "I do not understand you," he
said. "It may be a sophism by which you are trying to lull your
conscience, but it is my duty to rouse you. O Victor!" he continued
with passionate grief, "you can yourself imagine what it costs me to
speak to you in this way. But I have no option."
Sendlingen was silent. "I will talk about it later," he said. "Let me
first tell you a piece of news that will interest you. I have received
a letter from the Minister this morning.... You were right about their
'courage.'" He handed the letter to his friend. "The Minister reminds
me that it is my duty, in consequence of the appointment made last
November, to be in Pfalicz on the morning of the 1st March to take over
the conduct of the Higher Court there."
"After all!" cried Berger. "And how polite! Do you see now that we
liberals and our newspapers are some good? The Minister has no other
motive for beating a retreat."
"Perhaps this letter, which came at the same time, may throw some light
on it," observed Sendlingen taking up a letter as yet unopened. "It is
from my brother-in-law. Count Karolberg!" He opened it and glanced at
the first few lines. "True!" he exclaimed. "Just listen."
"You do not deserve your good fortune," he read, "and I myself was
fully persuaded that you were lost. But it seems that the Minister
talked to us more sharply than he thought, and that from the first he
meant nothing serious. That he kept you rather long in suspense, proved
to be only a slight revenge which was perhaps permissible. He meant no
harm; I feel myself in duty bound to say this to his credit."
"And your brother-in-law is a clever man," cried Berger, "and himself a
Judge! Does he not understand that this very explanation tells most of
all against the Minister? Oh, I always said that it was another
thoroughly Austrian----"
A cry of pain interrupted him. "What is this?" cried Sendlingen
horror-struck and gazing in deadly pallor at the letter.
Berger took the letter out of his trembling hands, in the next instant
he too changed colour. His eyes had lit upon the following passage.
"When do you leave Bolosch? I hope that the last duty that you have to
do in your office, will not affect your soft heart too much. Certainly
it is always painful to order the execution of a woman, and especially
such a young one, and perhaps you can leave the arrangements for the
execution to your successor who fortunately is made of sterner stuff."
The letter fell from Berger's hands. "O Victor----" he murmured.
"Don't say a word," Sendlingen groaned; his voice sounded like a
drowning man's. "No reproaches!--Do you want to drive me mad."
Then he made a great effort over himself. "The warrant must have come
already," he said, and he rang for the clerk and told him to bring all
the papers that had arrived that day. The fatal document was really
among them; it was a brief information to the Court at Bolosch stating
that the Emperor had rejected the petition for pardon lodged by Counsel
for the defence, and that he had confirmed the sentence of death. The
execution, according to the custom then prevailing, was to be carried
out in eight days.
"I will not reproach you," said Berger after he had glanced through the
few lines. "But now you must act. You must telegraph at once to the
Imperial Chancellery and ask for an audience for the day after
tomorrow, the nineteenth, and to-morrow you must start for Vienna!"
"I will do so," said Sendlingen softly.
"You _must_ do it!" cried Berger, "and I will see that you do. I will
be back in the evening."
When Berger returned at nightfall, Franz said to him in the lobby:
"Thank God, we are going to Vienna after all!" and Sendlingen himself
corroborated this. "I have already received an answer; the audience is
granted for the nineteenth. I have struggled severely with myself," he
then added, and continued half aloud, in an unsteady voice, as if he
were talking to himself; "I am a greater coward than I thought. However
fixed my resolve was, my courage failed me--and so I must go to
Vienna."
Berger asked no further questions, he was content with the promise.