The Merchant of Berlin Part 42

"And the other paper, _Spener's Journal_?"

"Is sorry to join in the statement, and confirms it to-day."

Gotzkowsky broke out into a mocking laugh, his countenance brightened with indignation, and his features expressed their former energy and decision. "O world! O men!" he exclaimed, "how pitiful, how mean you are! You know, Bertram, how much good I have done these men. I have protected them as a friend in the time of their need and affliction. I saved them from punishment and shame. In return they trumpet forth my misfortunes, and that which might have been altered by the considerate silence of my friends, they cry aloud to all the world, and thereby precipitate my fall."

"It is, then, really true?" asked Bertram, turning pale. "You are in danger?"

"To-day is the last term for the payment of the five hundred thousand dollars, which I have to pay our king, for the town of Leipsic. Our largest banking-houses have bought up these claims of the king against me."

"But that is not your own debt. You only stood good for Leipsic."

"That I did; and as Leipsic cannot pay, I must."

"But Leipsic can a.s.sume a portion of the debt least."

"Perhaps so," said Gotzkowsky. "I have sent a courier to Leipsic, and look for his return every hour. But it is not that alone which troubles me," continued he, after a pause. "It would be easy to collect the five hundred thousand dollars. The new and unexpected ordinance from the mint, which renders uncurrent the light money, deprives me of another half million. When I foresaw Leipsic's insolvency, I had negotiated alone with Hamburg for half a million of light money. But the spies of the Jews of the mint discovered this, and when my money was in the course of transmission from Hamburg they managed to obtain a decree from the king forbidding immediately the circulation of this coin. In this way my five hundred thousand dollars became good for nothing."

"Horrible!" cried Bertram; "have you, then, not endeavored to save a portion of this money?"

"Yes, indeed," cried Gotzkowsky, with a bitter laugh, "I have tried.

I wished to send fifty thousand dollars of my money to the army of the allies, to see if it would be current there; but Ephraim had foreseen this, too, and obtained a decree forbidding even the transit of this money through the Prussian dominions. This new and arbitrary law was only published after my money had left Hamburg, and I had grounds to hope that I would not be prevented from bringing it through the Prussian dominions, for it was concealed in the double bottom of a wagon. But avarice has sharp eyes, and the spies who were set upon all my actions succeeded in discovering this too. The wagon was stopped at the gates of Berlin, and the money was discovered where they knew it was beforehand, under this false bottom. But who do you think it was, Bertram, who denounced me in this affair? You would never guess it--the chief burgomaster, President von Kircheisen! He stood himself at the gate, watched for the wagon, and searched until he found the money."

"Kircheisen! The same, father, whom you saved from death when the Russians were here?"

"The same, my son; you shake your head incredulously. Read for yourself." He took from his writing-table a large paper provided with the official seal, and handed it to Bertram. "Read for yourself, my son. It is an order from the minister Von Finkenstein."

It was written thus: "The half of the sum is awarded by the king to President von Kircheisen, as detective and informer."

"A worthy t.i.tle, 'detective and informer,'" continued Gotzkowsky. "By Heaven, I do not envy him it! But now you shall know all. It does me good to confide to you my sorrows--it lightens my poor heart. And now I have another fear. You have heard of my speculation in the Russian magazines?"

"Of the magazines which you, with De Neufville and the bankers Moses and Samuel, bought?" asked Bertram.

"Yes, that is it. But Russia would not enter into the bargain unless I made myself responsible for the whole sum."

"And you did so?" asked Bertram, trembling.

"I did. The purchase-money has been due for four months. My fellow-contractors have not paid. If Russia insists upon the payment of this debt, I am ruined."

"And why do not Samuel and Moses pay their part?"

Gotzkowsky did not answer immediately, but when he did, his features expressed scorn and contempt: "Moses and Samuel are no longer obliged to pay, because yesterday they declared themselves insolvent."

Bertram suppressed with effort a cry of anger, and covered his face with his hands. "He is lost," he muttered to himself, "lost beyond redemption, for he founds his hopes on De Neufville, and he knows nothing of his unfortunate fate."

CHAPTER VII.

CONFESSIONS.

Bertram raised his head again, Gotzkowsky was standing near him, looking brightly and lovingly into his sorrowful, twitching face. It was now Gotzkowsky who had to console Bertram, and, smiling quietly and gently, he told him of the hopes which still remained to him.

"De Neufville may return," he said. "He has only gone to the opening of the bank at Amsterdam, and if he succeeds in collecting the necessary sum there, and returns with it as rapidly as possible to Berlin, I am saved."

"But if he does not come?" asked Bertram with a trembling voice, fixing his sad looks penetratingly on Gotzkowsky.

"Then I am irretrievably lost," answered Gotzkowsky, in a loud, firm voice.

Bertram stepped quickly up to him, and threw himself in his arms, folding him to his breast as if to protect him against all the danger which threatened him. "You must be saved!" cried he, eagerly; "it is not possible that you should fall. You have never deserved such a misfortune."

"For that very reason I fear that I must suffer it. If I deserved this disgrace, perhaps it never would have happened to me. The world is so fashioned, that what we deserve of good or evil never happens to us."

"But you have friends; thousands are indebted to your generosity, and to your ever-ready, helping hand. There is scarcely a merchant in Berlin to whom, some time or other, you have not been of a.s.sistance in his need!"

Gotzkowsky laid his hand on his shoulder, and replied with a proud air: "My friend, it is precisely those who owe me grat.i.tude, who are now trying to ruin me. The very fact of having obliged them, makes them my bitter enemies. Grat.i.tude is so disagreeable a virtue, that men become implacably hostile to those who impose it on them."

"When you speak thus, my father," said Bertram, glowing with n.o.ble indignation, "you condemn me, too. You have bound me to everlasting grat.i.tude, and yet I love you inexpressibly for it."

"You are a rare exception, my son," replied Gotzkowsky, sadly, "and I thank G.o.d, who has taught me to know you."

"You believe, then, in me?" asked Bertram, looking earnestly in his eyes.

"I believe in you," said Gotzkowsky, solemnly, offering him his hand.

"Well, then, my father," cried Bertram, quickly and gladly, "in this important moment let me make an urgent request of you. You call me your son; give me, then, the rights of a son. Allow me the happiness of offering you the little that I can call mine. My fortune is not, to be sure, sufficient to save you, but it can at least be of service to you. Father, I owe you every thing. It is yours--take it back."

"Never!" interrupted Gotzkowsky.

But Bertram continued more urgently: "At least consider of it. When you founded the porcelain factory, you made me a partner in this business, and I accepted it, although I had nothing but what belonged to you. When the king, a year ago, bought the factory from you, you paid me a fourth of the purchase-money, and gave me thirty thousand dollars. I accepted it, although I had not contributed any part of the capital."

"You are mistaken, my son. You forget that you contributed the capital of your knowledge and genius."

"One cannot live on genius," cried Bertram, impatiently; "and with all my knowledge I might have starved, if you had not taken me by the hand."

Gotzkowsky would have denied this, but Bertram continued still more pressingly: "Father, if I were, indeed, your son, could you then deny me the right of falling and being ruined with you? Can you deny your son the right of dividing with you what is his?"

"No!" cried Gotzkowsky, "from my son I could demand the sacrifice, but it is not only a question of earthly possessions, it is a question of my most sacred spiritual good, it is the honor of my name. Had I a son, I would exact of him that he should follow me unto death, so that the honor of my name might be saved."

"Well, then, let me be, indeed, your son. Give me your daughter!"

Gotzkowsky stepped back in astonishment and gazed at Bertram's n.o.ble, excited countenance. "Ah!" cried he, "I thank you, Bertram; you are a n.o.ble man! I understand you. You have found out the sorrow which gnaws most painfully at my heart; that Elise, by my failure, becomes a beggar. You wish most n.o.bly to a.s.sist her and protect her from want."

"No, father, I desire her for her own sake--because I love her! I would wish to be your son, in order to have the right to give up all for you, and to work for you. During your whole life you have done so much for others; now grant me the privilege of doing something for you. Give me your daughter; let me be your son."