Franzos Karl Emil
The Chief Justice: A Novel
His brother-in-law-and Sendlingen knew it-certainly never affected a melodramatic tone, and often as he had warned him, he had never before written in such a key. What should he do? It was against his conscience to submit and leave these poor fellows to their fate; but might he concern himself more about men who were strangers to him, than about the wellbeing of his own child? If he did not yield, would he not perhaps be suddenly removed from his office, and just at the moment when his unhappy daughter most of all required his help?
He went to his residence in a state of grievous interior conflict, impotently drawn from one resolve to another. He sighed with relief when Berger entered; his shrewd, discreet friend could not have come at a more opportune moment.
But he, too, found it difficult to hit upon the right counsel, or at least, to put it into words. "Don't let us confuse ourselves, Victor," he said at length. "First of all, you know as well as I do, that the Minister has no right to put such a command upon you. You are responsible to him that every trial in your Court shall be conducted with the proper formalities; the power to arrange for this is in your hands. And therefore they dare not seriously punish your insistence on your manifest right. Dismissal on such a pretext is improbable and almost inconceivable, especially when it is a question of a man of your name and services."
"But it is possible."
"Anything is possible in these days," Berger was obliged to admit. "But ought this remote possibility to mislead you? You would certainly not hesitate a moment, if consideration for your child did not fetter you. Should this consideration be more authoritative than every other? In my opinion, no!"
"Because you cannot understand my feelings!" Sendlingen vehemently interposed. "A father may not think of himself when his child's welfare is concerned. The voice of nature speaks thus in the breast of every man, even the roughest, and should it be silent in me?"
"My poor friend," said Berger, "in your heart, too, it has surely spoken loud enough. And yet, so far, you have not hesitated for a moment to fulfil your duty as a judge when it came into conflict with your inclination. You would not preside at the trial, you would not conduct the examination. The struggle is entering on a new phase, you cannot act differently now."
"I must! I cannot help these poor people-besides Werner himself will hardly be able to find them guilty. And the cases are not parallel; I should have broken my oath if I had presided at the trial: I do not break it if I obey the Minister's command."
"That is true," retorted Berger. "But I can only say: Seek some other consolation, Victor, – this is unworthy of you! For you have always been, like me, of the opinion that it is every man's duty to protect the right, and prevent wrong, so long as there is breath in his body! If I admonish you, it is not from any fanatical love of Justice, but from friendship for you, and because I know you as well as one man can ever know another. Your mind could endure anything, even the most grievous suffering, anything save one thing: the consciousness of having done an injustice however slight. If you submit, and if these men are condemned even to a few years' imprisonment, their fate would prey upon your mind as murder would on any one else. This I know, and I would warn you against it as strongly as I can… Let us look at the worst that could happen, the scarcely conceivable prospect of your dismissal. What serious effect could this have upon the fate of your child? You perhaps cling to the hope of yourself imparting to her the result of the appeal; that is no light matter, but it is not so grave as the quiet of your conscience. It can have no other effect. If the purport of the decision is a brief imprisonment, you could have no further influence upon her destiny, whether you were in office or not; she would be taken to some criminal prison, and you would have to wait till her term of imprisonment was over before you could care for her. If the terms of the decision are imprisonment for life, or death (you see, I will not be so cowardly as not to face the worst), the only course left open to you is, to discover all to the Emperor and implore his pardon for your child. Is there anything else to be done?"
Sendlingen was silent.
"There is no other means of escape. And if it comes to this, if you have to sue for her pardon, it will assuredly be granted you, whether you are in office or not. It will be granted you on the score of humanity, of your services and of your family. It is inconceivable that this act of grace should be affected by the fact that you had just previously had a dispute with the Minister of Justice. It is against reason, still more against sentiment. The young Prince is of a chivalrous disposition."
"That he is!" replied Sendlingen. "And it is not this consideration that makes me hesitate, I had hardly thought of it. It was quite another idea… Thank you, George," he added. "Let us decide tomorrow, let us sleep upon it." He said this with such a bitter, despairing smile, that his friend was cut to the heart.
The next morning when Berger was sitting in his Chambers engaged upon some pressing work, the door was suddenly flung open and Sendlingen's servant Franz entered. Berger started to his feet and could scarcely bring himself to ask whether any calamity had occurred.
"Very likely it is a calamity," replied the old man, continuing in his peculiar fashion of speech which had become so much a habit with him, that he could never get out of it. "We were taken ill again in Chambers, very likely we fell down several times as before, we came home deadly pale but did not send in for the Doctor, but for you, sir."
Berger started at once, Franz following behind him. As they went along, Berger fancied he heard a sob. He looked round: there were tears in the old servant's eyes. When they got into the residence, Berger turned to him and said: "Be a man, Franz."
Then the old fellow could contain himself no longer; bright tears coursed down his cheeks. "Dr. Berger," he stammered. He had bent over his hand and kissed it before Berger could prevent him. "Have pity on me! Tell me what has been going on the last two months! We often speak to Brigitta about it-I am told nothing! Why? We know that this silence is killing me. I could long ago have learned it by listening and spying, but Franz doesn't do that sort of thing. If you cannot tell me, at least put in a word for me. Surely we do not want to kill me!"
Berger laid his hand on his shoulder. "Be calm, Franz, we have all heavy burdens to bear."
He then went into Sendlingen's room. "The minister's telegram?" he asked.
"Worse!"
"The decision? What is the result?" The question was superfluous; the result was plainly enough written in Sendlingen's livid, distorted features. Berger, trembling in every limb, seized the fatal paper that lay on the table.
"Horrible!" he groaned-it was a sentence of death.
He forced himself to read the motives given; they were briefly enough put. The Supreme Court had rejected the appeal to nullify the trial, although the credibility of the servant-girl had appeared doubtful enough to it, too. At the same time, the decision continued, there was no reason for ordering a new trial, as the guilt of the accused was manifest without any of the evidence of this witness. The Supreme Court had gone through this without noticing either her recent statement incriminating the Accused, nor her first favorable evidence. The Countess' depositions alone, therefore, must determine Victorine's conduct before the deed, and her motives for the deed. These seemed sufficient to the Supreme Court, not to alter the sentence of death.
For a long time Berger held the paper in his hands as if stunned; at length he went over to his unhappy friend, laid his arms around his neck and gently lifted his face up towards him. But when he looked into that face, the courage to say a word of consolation left him.
He stepped to the window and stood there for, perhaps, half an hour. Then he said softly, "I will come back this evening," and left the room.
Towards evening he received a few lines from his friend. Sendlingen asked him not to come till to-morrow; by that time he hoped to have recovered sufficient composure to discuss quietly the next steps to be taken. He was of opinion that Berger should address a petition for pardon to the Emperor, and asked him to draw up a sketch of it.
Berger read of this request with astonishment. He would certainly have lodged a petition for pardon, even if Victorine Lippert had been simply his client and not Sendlingen's daughter. But he would have done it more from a sense of duty than in the hope of success. That this hope was slight, he well knew. The petition would have to take its course through the Supreme Court, and it was in the nature of the case that the recommendation of the highest tribunal would be authoritative with the Emperor; exceptions had occurred, but their number was assuredly not sufficient to justify any confident hopes. All this Sendlingen must know as well as himself. Why, therefore, did he wish that the attempt should be made? In this desperate state of things, there was but one course that promised salvation; a personal audience with the Emperor. Why did Sendlingen hesitate to choose this course?
Berger made up his mind to lay all this strongly before him, and when on the next day he rang the bell of the residence, he was determined not to leave him until he had induced him to take this step.
"We are still in Chambers," announced Franz. "We want you to wait here a little. We have been examining workmen again since this morning early, and have hardly allowed ourselves ten minutes for food."
"So he has none the less resolved to go on with that?" said Berger. Perhaps, he thought to himself, the telegram has not arrived yet.
"None the less resolved?" cried Franz. "We have perhaps seldom worked away with such resolution and Baron Dernegg, too, was dictating to-day-I say it with all respect-like one possessed."
Berger turned to go. It occurred to him that he had not seen Victorine for a week, and he thought he would use the interval by visiting her. "I shall be back in an hour," he said to Franz. "In the meanwhile I have something to do in the prison."
"In the prison?" The old man's face twitched, he seized Berger's arm and drew him back into the lobby, shutting the door. "Forgive me, Dr. Berger. My heart is so full… You are going to her-are you not? To our poor young lady, to Victorine?"
"What? Since when?" …
"Do I know it?" interrupted Franz. "Since yesterday evening!" And with a strange mixture of pride and despair he went on: "We told me everything!.. Oh, it is terrible. But we know what I am worth! My poor master! ah! I couldn't sleep all night for sorrow… But we shall see that we are not deceived in me… I have a favour to ask, Dr. Berger. Brigitta has the privilege naturally, because she is a woman and a member of the 'Women's Society.' But I, what can I appeal to? Certainly I have in a way, been in the law for twenty-five years, and understand more of these things than many a young fledgling who struts about in legal toggery, but-a lawyer I certainly am not-so, I suppose, Dr. Berger, it is unfortunately impossible?"
"What? That you should pay her a visit? Certainly it is impossible, and if you play any pranks of that kind-"
"Oh! Dr. Berger," said the old man imploringly. "I did but ask your advice because my heart is literally bursting. Well, if this is impossible, I have another favour, and this you will do me! Greet our poor young lady from me! Thus, with these words: 'Old Franz sends Fräulein Victorine his best wishes from all his heart-and begs her not to despair… and-and wants to remind her that the God above is still living.'"
Berger could scarcely understand his last words for the tears that choked, the old man's voice. He himself was moved; as yesterday, so to-day, Franz's tears strongly affected him, for the old servant was not particularly soft by nature. "Yes, yes, Franz," he promised, and then betook himself to the prison. He resolved to continue to be quite candid with Victorine, but not to mention the result of the appeal by a single word.
But when he entered her cell, she came joyfully to meet him, her eyes glistening with tears. "How shall I thank you?" she cried much moved trying to take his hand.
He fell back a step. "Thank me? – What for?"
"Oh, I know," she said softly with a look at the door as if an eavesdropper might have been there. "My father told me that it was not official yet. He hurried to me this morning as soon as he had received the news, but it is still only private information, and for the present I must tell nobody! Whom else have I to thank but you?"
"What?" he asked. And he added with an unsteady voice: "I have not seen him for the last few days. Has he had news from Vienna?"
"To be sure! The Supreme Court has pardoned me. My imprisonment during trial is to be considered as punishment. In a few weeks I shall be quite free."
Berger felt all the blood rush to his heart. "Quite free!" he repeated faintly. "In a few weeks!" And at the same time he was tortured by the importunate question: "Great God! he has surely gone mad? How could he do this? What is his object?"
"Merciful Heaven!" she cried. "How pale you have turned. How sombre you look! Merciful Heaven! you have not received other news? He has surely not been deceived? Oh, if I had to die after all! – now-now-"
She staggered. Berger took her hand and made her sink down on to the nearest chair. "I have no other news," he said as firmly as possible. "It came upon me with such a shock! I am surprised that he has not yet told me anything. But then, of course, he did not hear of it till to-day. If he has told you, you can, of course, look upon it as certain."
"May I not?" She sighed with relief. "I need not tremble any more? Oh, how you frightened me!"
"Forgive me-calm yourself!"
He took up his hat again.
"Are you going already? And I have not yet half thanked you!"
"Don't mention it!" he said curtly, parrying her remark. "Au revoir," he added with more friendliness, and leaving the cell, hurried to Sendlingen's residence.
He had just come in; Berger approached him in great excitement. "I have just been to see Victorine," he began. "How could you tell this untruth? How could you?"
Sendlingen cast down his eyes. "I had to do it. I was afraid that otherwise the news of her condemnation might reach her."
"No," cried Berger. "Forgive my vehemence," he then continued. "I have reason for it. Such empty pretexts are unworthy of you and me. You yourself see to the regulation of the Courts and the prison. The Accused never hear their sentence until they are officially informed."
"You do me an injustice," replied Sendlingen, his voice still trembling, and it was not till he went on that he recovered himself: "I have no particular reasons that I ought or want to hide from you. I told her in an ebullition of feeling that I can hardly account for to myself. When I saw her to-day she was much sadder, much more hopeless, than has been usual with her lately. She certainly had a presentiment-and I, in my flurry at this, feared that some report might already have reached her. Such a thing, in spite of all regulations, is not inconceivable; chance often plays strange pranks. In my eager desire to comfort her, those words escaped me. The exultation with which she received them, robbed me of the courage to lessen their favourable import afterwards! That is all!"
Berger looked down silently for a while. "I will not reproach you," he then resumed. "How fatal this imprudence may prove, you can see as well as I. She was prepared for the worst and therefore anything not so bad, might perhaps have seemed like a favour of Heaven. Now she is expecting the best, and whatever may be obtained for her by way of grace, it will certainly dishearten and dispirit her. But there is no help for it now! Let us talk of what we can help! You want me to lodge a petition for pardon? It would be labour in vain!"
"Well," said Sendlingen hesitatingly, "in some cases the Emperor has revoked the sentence of death in spite of the decision of the Supreme Court."
"Yes, but we dared not build on this hope if we had no other. Fortunately this is the case. You must go to Vienna; only on your personal intercession is the pardon a certainty. And my petition could at best only get the sentence commuted to imprisonment for life, whereas your prayer would obtain a shorter imprisonment and, after a few years, remission of the remainder. You must go to-morrow, Victor-there is no time to lose."
Sendlingen turned away without a word.
"How am I to understand this?" cried Berger, anxiously approaching him. "You will not?"
The poor wretch groaned aloud, "I will-" he exclaimed. "But later on-later on-. As soon as your petition has been dispatched."
"But why?" cried Berger. "I have hitherto appreciated and sympathised with your every sentiment and act, but this delay strikes me as being unreasonable, unpardonable. I would spare you if less depended on the cast, but as it is, I will speak out. It is unmanly, it is-" He paused. "Spare me having to say this to you, to you who were always so brave and resolute. There is no time to lose, I repeat. Who will vouch that it may not then be too late? If my petition is rejected, the Court will at the same time order the sentence to be carried out. Do you know so certainly that you will still be here then, that you will still have time then to hurry to Vienna? Think! Think!"
Berger had been talking excitedly and paused out of breath. But he was resolved not to yield and was about to begin again when Sendlingen said: "You have convinced me; I will go to Vienna sooner, even before the dispatch of your petition."
"Then you still insist that I shall proceed with it?"
"Please; it can do no harm; it may do good. And at least we shall gain time by it. I cannot undertake the journey to Vienna until the inquiry against the working men is ended. In this, too, there is not a day to be lost; neither Dernegg nor I know whether there is not an order on the road that may in some way make us harmless. I trust we shall by that time have succeeded in proving that no punishable offence has been committed. I have received the Minister's telegram to-day, and at once replied that the inquiry was so complicated, and had already proceeded so far, that a change in the examining Judges would be impracticable."
"I am glad that you have followed my advice," said Berger. "And in spite of these aggravated conditions! You hesitated as long as the decision was not known to you, as long as you simply feared it, and when your fears were confirmed, you were brave again and did not hesitate for an instant in doing your duty as an honourable man! Victor, few people would have done the like!" He reached out his hand to say good-bye. "You have now taken old Franz into your confidence?" he asked, "another participator in the secret-it would have been well to consider it first! But I will not begin to scold again. Adieu!"
CHAPTER XI
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 fête 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 fête 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 fête 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."