"No, we do not," said the burgomaster, quite unmoved by Gotzkowsky"s n.o.ble excitement. "We do not refuse payment; we only desire a reduction of the amounts."
"You wish to cheapen and bargain with me," said Gotzkowsky with a hoa.r.s.e laugh. "You take me for a chapman, who measures out his life and services by the yard; and you wish to pay me for mine by the same measure. Go, most sapient gentlemen; I carry on a wholesale trade, and do not cut off yards. That I leave to shopkeepers, to souls like yours."
The burgomaster rose up proud and threateningly from his seat. "Do you dare to insult the Council?"
"No, the Council of Berlin insult themselves by their own deeds. They dare to chaffer with me!"
"And they have a right to do so," cried the burgomaster, quite beside himself with rage. "Who asked you to play the great lord in our name, and distribute royal presents--diamonds and gold snuff-boxes?
You could have done it much more cheaply. The Russian is not so high-priced. But it was your pleasure to be magnificent at our expense, and to strut about as a bountiful gentleman."
"Silence!" cried Gotzkowsky, in such a commanding tone that the burgomaster was struck dumb, and sank back in his chair. Gotzkowsky said no more. He took the accounts from the table, and, casting a look of anger and contempt on the worthy gentlemen, tore the papers in pieces, and threw the sc.r.a.ps at their feet. "I am paid!" he said, proudly, and turned to leave the room.
One of the town councillors hastened after him, and held him back.
"You are too hasty: we may yet agree."
"No!" said Gotzkowsky, striving to free himself. "I do not chaffer and bargain for my right."
The other held him tight. "But the Council are not averse to paying you, if you--"
"If I will only traffic with you, is it not so?" interrupted Gotzkowsky. "Let me go; we have done with each other."
"You will regret having repulsed the Council," said the burgomaster, threateningly.
"I never regret an action when my honor is satisfied," said Gotzkowsky, with proud contempt; and then, without honoring the worthy gentlemen with another look, he left the hall, and returned into the street.
CHAPTER XI.
THE JEWS OF THE MINT.
Herr Itzig was a very pious and devout Jew. He kept the Sabbath strictly after the custom of his ancestors. He was charitable to the poor; and no Jew beggar ever left his door without a gift.
He sat in his room, performing his morning devotions, and so deeply was he immersed therein, that he did not hear a repeated knocking at the door until a low, gentle voice whispered, "Good-morning, Herr Itzig!"
Itzig first finished his prayer; for all the world he would not have broken off before the end of it: "Be gracious and merciful to us, Jehovah, and incline us to be compa.s.sionate and helpful to all who approach us with supplication, even as we desire that thou shouldst be to us." And now the pious Jew closed his prayer-book, and turned slowly around.
That pale, bent man, who greeted him with a sorrowful smile--could it possibly be--could it be John Gotzkowsky, the celebrated banker, the honored and bright hero of the Exchange, the money-king before whom all Europe bowed down?
An expression of malicious joy stole over Itzig"s face; but he suppressed it immediately, for the last words of his prayer still floated around his lips, and somewhat purified them. "Ah!" said he, in a friendly tone, as he stepped toward Gotzkowsky, stretching out both his hands to him, "the great and powerful John Gotzkowsky does me the honor to visit me. What joy for my humble house!"
Gotzkowsky did not allow himself to be misled by this seeming politeness. He observed him with sharp and penetrating eyes, and then proudly said: "Listen, Itzig; let us be candid with each other. You know the reports which are current about me in the city and on the Bourse."
"I know them, but do not believe them," cried Itzig, with an altered, earnest mien. "Yes, I know these reports, and I know too what they are worth. They are a speculation of Ephraim, that your notes may be depreciated, that he may buy them in at a low rate. I know that Gotzkowsky is a rich man; and a rich man has judgment, and whoever has judgment is prudent--does not venture much, nor stand security for other people."
"I have perhaps less of this judgment than you think," said Gotzkowsky. "It may be that I have stood security."
"Then you will certainly know how to pay?" said Itzig, with a forced laugh.
"But how if I cannot pay?" said Gotzkowsky, sadly.
Itzig stepped back, and gazed at him horrified.
"If I cannot pay," continued Gotzkowsky, impressively; "if I am unable to pay half a million for Leipsic, another half million for the Russian claims, after having lost the same amount yesterday by the new treasury ordinance--what would you say to that, Itzig?"
Itzig listened to him with increasing terror, and gradually his features a.s.sumed an expression of hatred and savage rage. When Gotzkowsky had finished, he raised his clasped hands to heaven, as if imploring the wrath of G.o.d on the head of the sinner. "My G.o.d! sir, are you, then, going to fail?"
Gotzkowsky seized his hand, and looked into his quivering face with an expression of intense anxiety. "Listen to me, Itzig. I may yet be saved; every thing depends upon my obtaining a delay, that my credit may not be shaken. You are rich--"
"No, I am poor," interrupted Itzig, vehemently. "I am perfectly poor; I have nothing but what I earn."
"But you can earn a great deal," said Gotzkowsky, with a faint smile.
"I wish to effect a loan from you. Take my word of honor as security."
"Your word of honor!" cried Itzig, thrusting back his hand. "What can I do with your word of honor? I cannot advance any money on it."
"Consider! the honor of my name is concerned--and this, till now, I have kept unsullied before G.o.d and man!" cried Gotzkowsky, imploringly.
"And if my own honor was concerned," exclaimed Itzig, "I would rather part with it than my money. Money makes me a man. I am a Jew. I have nothing but money--it is my life, my honor! I cannot part with any of it."
But Gotzkowsky did not allow himself to be repulsed. It seemed to him that his future, his honor, his whole life hung upon this moment. He felt like a gambler who has staked his last hope upon one throw of the dice. If this fails, all hope is gone; no future, no life is left, nothing but the grave awaits him. With impetuous violence he seized the hand of the rich Itzig. "Oh!" said he, "remember the time when you swore eternal grat.i.tude to me."
"I never would have sworn it," cried Itzig--"no, by the Eternal, I never would have done it, if I had thought you would ever have needed it!"
"The honor of my name is at stake!" cried Gotzkowsky, in a tone of heart-rending agony. "Do you not understand that this is to me my life? Remember your vow! Let your heart for once feel sympathy--act as a man toward his fellow-man. Advance me money upon my word of honor.
No, not on that alone--on my house, on all that belongs to me. Lend me the sum I need. Oh! I will repay it in a princely manner. Help me over only these shoals, and my grat.i.tude to you will be without bounds. You have a heart--take pity on me!"
Itzig looked with a malicious smile into his pale, agitated face.
"So the rich, the great Christian banker, in the hour of his trouble, thinks that the poor derided Jew has a heart; I admit that I have a heart--but what has that to do with money? When business begins, there the heart stops. No, I have no heart to lend you money!"
Gotzkowsky did not answer immediately. He stood for an instant motionless, as if paralyzed in his inmost being. His soul was crushed, and he scarcely felt his grief. He only felt and knew that he was a lost man, and that the proud edifice of his fortune was crumbling under him, and would bury him in its ruins. He folded his hands and raised his disconsolate looks on high; he murmured: You see my suffering, O G.o.d! I have done my utmost! I have humbled myself to begging--to pitiful complaining. My G.o.d! my G.o.d! will no helping hand stretch itself once more to me out of the cloud?"
"You should have prayed before to G.o.d," said Itzig, with cruel mockery. "You should have begged Him for prudence and foresight."
Gotzkowsky did not heed him. He fought and struggled with his immense suffering, and, being a n.o.ble and a brave man, he at length conquered it. For a moment he had been cowed and downcast, but now he recovered all the power of his energetic nature. He raised again his bowed head, and his look was once more determined and defiant. "Well, then, I have tried every thing; now I accept my fate. Listen, then, Herr Itzig, I am going to suspend payment; my house must fail!"
Itzig shuddered with a sudden terror. "My G.o.d!" cried he, "only yesterday I bought a draft of yours. You will not pay it?"
"I will not do it, because I cannot; and I would not do it, if I could. I have humbled myself before you in the dust, and you have stretched out no hand to raise me. Farewell, and may that now happen which you would not prevent when you could! You punish yourself.
Farewell!"
Itzig held him convulsively back, and cried, in a voice drowned by rage, "You will pay my draft?"
"I will not," said Gotzkowsky. "You have judged; take now your reward." He threw Itzig"s hands from him, and hastened from the spot.