Witness.—”Only that the witness told me I must put it — the vase, I mean — into the furnace directly; and I answered to that, ‘All in good time; the furnace is not ready yet; it will go in along with the rest.’”
Albert.—”Then you did not put it into the furnace immediately after it was left with you?”
Witness.—”No, I did not — but that was not my fault — I could not; the furnace was not hot enough.”
Albert.—”How long do you think it was, from the time it was left upon the tray, till you put it into the furnace?”
Witness.—”I don’t know — I can’t be positive: it might be a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes; or it might be half an hour. I cannot be positive, sir; I cannot be positive.”
Albert.—”You need not be positive. Nobody wants you to be positive. Nobody wants to entrap you, my good friend. During this quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes, or half an hour, that you speak of, did you ever lose sight of this vase?”
Witness.—”To be sure I did. I did not stand watching it all the while. Why should I? It was safe enough.”
Albert.—”Do you recollect where you found the vase when you took it to put it into the furnace?”
Witness.—”Yes: it was standing as it might be here, in the middle of the table.”
Albert.—”Do you recollect whether it was standing upon the tray or not?”
Witness.—”It was not upon the tray, as I recollect: no, I’m sure it was not, for I carried to the furnace first the tray and all that was on it, and then I remember, I came back for this, which was standing, as I said before, as it might be here, in the middle of the table.”
Albert.—”Was any body, except yourself, at the furnace, or in the room, from the time that this vase was brought to you, till you put it into the furnace?”
Witness.—”Not as I remember. It was our dinner-time. All the men, except myself, were gone to dinner: I stayed to mind the furnace.”
Albert.—”It was you, then, that took this vase off the tray, was it?”
Witness.—”No, it was not. I never took it off the tray. I told you it was not upon the tray with the others; I told you it was upon the table, as it might be here.”
Albert.—”Yes, when you were going to put it into the furnace, you said that you saw it standing in the middle of the table; but you recollect that you saw the workman who brought it put it upon the tray. You told us you remembered that circumstance perfectly.”
Witness.—”Yes, so I do.”
Albert.—”The vase could not have got off the tray of itself. You did not take it off. How came it off, do you think?”
Witness.—”I don’t know. I can’t tell. Somebody, to be sure, must have taken it off. I was minding the furnace. My back was to the door. I don’t recollect seeing any body come in; but many might have come in and out, without my heeding them.”
Albert.—”Take your own time, my good friend. Recollect yourself; perhaps you may remember.”
Witness.—”Oh, yes, now you put me upon recollecting, I do remember that Solomon the Jew came in, and asked me where Sophia Mansfeld was; and it certainly must have been he who took the vase off the tray; for now I recollect, as I looked round once from the furnace, I saw him with it in his hand; he was looking at the bottom of it, as I remember: he said, here are some fine verses, or some such thing; but I was minding the furnace. That’s all I know about the matter.”
Albert.—”That is enough.”
The next witness who came forward was the husband of Sophia Mansfeld. — He deposed, that on the 29th of April, the day on which the Prussian Vase was finished, as stated by the former evidence, and sent to be put into the furnace, he met Sophia Mansfeld in the street: she was going home to dinner. He asked to see the vase: she said that it was, she believed, put into the furnace, and that he could not then see it; that she was sorry he had not come sooner, for that he could have written the inscription on it for her, and that would have spared her the shame of telling Count Laniska that she could not read or write. She added, that the count had written all that was wanting for her. The witness, being impatient to see the vase, went as fast as he could to the manufactory, in hopes of getting a sight of it before it was put into the furnace. He met Solomon the Jew at the door of the manufactory, who told him that he was too late, that all the vases were in the furnace; he had just seen them put in. The Jew, as the witness now recollects, though it did not strike him at the time, was eager to prevent him from going into the furnace-room. Solomon took him by the arm, and walked with him up the street, talking to him of some money which he was to remit to Meissen, to Sophia Mansfeld’s father and mother.
Albert asked the witness on whose account this money was to be remitted by the Jew to Meissen.
Witness.—”The money was to be remitted on Sophia Mansfeld’s account.”
Albert.—”Did she borrow it from the Jew?”
Witness.—”No; the Jew owed it to her for work done by her. She had the art of painting on glass. She had painted some glasses for a large magic lantern, and several small pictures on glass. She did these things at the hours when she was not obliged to be at the manufactory. She rose very early in the morning and worked hard. She sold her work to the Jew upon condition that he would remit the price agreed upon to her father and mother, who were old, and depended on her for support.”
Albert.—”Was the money punctually remitted to her father and mother by the Jew?”
Witness.—”Not a farthing of it was remitted by him, as Sophia discovered since her return to Meissen.”
Albert.—”Did you ever hear this Jew say any thing about Sophia Mansfeld’s returning to Saxony?”
Witness.—”Yes; I once heard the Jew say that he hoped she never would leave Berlin, because she was of great use to him. He advised me to settle in Berlin. This passed about six weeks ago. About a week before the prize was decided by the king, I met the Jew, and told him Sophia had good hopes of getting back to Saxony. He looked very much vexed, and said, ‘She is not sure of that.’”
Albert.—”Did you ever hear this Jew speak of Count Laniska?”
Witness.—”Yes, about two months ago I saw him in the street when I was speaking to Solomon, and I asked the Jew who he was. He answered, ‘He is the Count Laniska — a man that I hate, and on whom I will be revenged some time or other.’ I asked why he hated the count. The Jew replied, ‘Because the Christian dog has made the corps of Jews his laughing-stock. This day, when my son was going through his manual exercise before the king, Count Laniska was holding his sides with laughter. I’ll be revenged upon him some time or other.’”
Albert.—”I have no occasion, sir, to trouble you with any farther questions.”
The next witness who appeared was a druggist of Berlin. He deposed, that, on the 30th of April, Solomon the Jew came to his shop and asked for blue paints; that, after trying the colours very carefully upon the back of a letter, which he took out of his pocket, he bought a small quantity of a shade of blue, which the witness produced in court.
Albert ordered that the paint should be handed to the gentlemen of the jury, that they might compare it with the blue ground of the Prussian Vase. With this it was found, upon comparison, to match exactly.
Albert to the druggist.—”Do you know what became of the paper upon which you say the Jew tried your colours?”
Witness.—”Yes; here it is. I found it under the counter, after the Jew went away, and I kept it to return to him, as I saw there was an account on the other side of the paper, which I imagined he might want. He never happened to call at my shop afterwards, and I forgot that I had such a paper, till you, sir, called upon me about a week ago, to make inquiry on this subject. You desired me to keep the paper carefully, and not to let any one know that it was in my possession, till the day on which the trial of Count Laniska was to come on. I have complied with your request, and here is the paper.”
The paper was handed to the jury; and one of the shades of blue exactly matche
d that of the ground of the Prussian Vase. Albert now called upon the Jew to produce, once more, the handkerchief with which he had rubbed off the paint. The chain of evidence was now complete, for the blue on the handkerchief was precisely the same as the colours on the paper and on the vase. After the jury had satisfied themselves of this resemblance, Albert begged that they would read what was written upon the paper. The first thing that struck their eyes was the word tyrant frequently repeated, as if by some one who had been practising to write different hands. One of these words was an exact resemblance of the word tyrant on the Prussian Vase; and Albert pointed out a circumstance, which had till now escaped attention, that the letter r, in this word, was made differently from all the ars in the rest of the inscription. The writing of the Count Laniska had, in every other respect, been successfully imitated.
After Albert had shown these things to the jury, he here closed the evidence in favour of the prisoner, observing, that the length of time which the trial had lasted seemed to have somewhat fatigued both the judge and jury; and, knowing that it was now their usual hour of dinner, he prudently forbore to make a long speech upon the evidence which had been laid before them in favour of his friend: he left it to their own understandings to determine the balance of probabilities between the honour of Count Laniska and the honesty of Solomon the Jew.
The judge, in a manner which would have done honour even to the English bench, summed up the evidence on both sides, and gave a distinct and impressive charge to the jury, who, without leaving the court, gave a verdict in favour of the prisoner. Loud acclamations filled the hall. In the midst of these acclamations, the word—”Silence!” was pronounced by that voice which never failed to command instantaneous obedience in Prussia. All eyes turned upon the monarch.
“This court is now dissolved,” said his majesty. “My judgment confirms the verdict of the jury. Count Laniska, I took your sword from you too hastily. Accept of mine in its stead.” And as he pronounced these words, Frederick ungirded his sword, and presented it to the young count. “As for you, sir,” continued the king, addressing himself to Albert, “you want no sword for the defence of your friends. Your arms are superior to ours. Let me engage them in my service; and, trust me, I shall not leave them long unemployed, or unrewarded.”
There was but one person present to whom this speech seemed to give no satisfaction. This person was Solomon the Jew, who stood apart, waiting in black silence to learn his own fate. He was sentenced, not to a year’s imprisonment in the castle of Spandau, but to sweep the streets of Potzdam (including the court in front of Count Laniska’s palace) for a twelvemonth.
After having heard this sentence, which was universally approved of, the spectators began to retire.
The king dined — it is always important to know where great men dine — Frederick the Great dined this day at the Countess Laniska’s, in company with her son, his friend Albert, and the English traveller. After dinner, the king withdrew to attend parade; and it was observed that he wore the Count Laniska’s sword.
“You will allow,” said the countess to the English traveller, “that our king is a great man; for none but great men can bear to acknowledge that they have been mistaken.”
“You will allow, madam,” replied the Englishman, “that it was our English trial by jury which convinced the king of his mistake.”
“And you applaud him for granting that trial,” said Albert.
“To a certain degree I do,” said the Englishman, from whom it was difficult to extort praise of a despotic king—”to a certain degree, I do; but you will observe, that this trial by jury, which is a matter of favour to you Prussians, is a matter of right to us Englishmen. Much as I admire your king of Prussia, I admire our English constitution more.”
THE GOOD AUNT
Charles Howard was left an orphan when he was very young. His father had dissipated a large fortune, and lost his life in a duel, about some debt of honour, which had been contracted at the gaming-table. Without fortune and without friends, this poor boy would probably have lived and died in wretchedness, but for the humanity of his good aunt, Mrs. Frances Howard. This lady possessed a considerable fortune, which, in the opinion of some of her acquaintance, was her highest merit: others respected her as the branch of an ancient family: some courted her acquaintance because she was visited by the best company in town: and many were ambitious of being introduced to her, because they were sure of meeting at her house several of those distinguished literary characters who throw a radiance upon all who can contrive to get within the circle of their glories. Some few, some very few of Mrs. Howard’s acquaintance, admired her for her real worth, and merited the name of friends.
She was a young and cheerful woman when she first undertook the education of her little nephew. She had the courage to resist the allurements of dissipation, or all that by her sex are usually thought allurements. She had the courage to apply herself seriously to the cultivation of her understanding: she educated herself, that she might be able to fulfil the important duty of educating a child. Hers was not the foolish fondness of a foolish aunt; she loved her nephew, and she wished to educate him, so that her affection might increase, instead of diminishing, as he grew up. By associating early pleasure with reading, little Charles soon became fond of it: he was never forced to read books which he did not understand; his aunt used, when he was very young, to read aloud to him any thing entertaining that she met with; and whenever she perceived by his eye that his attention was not fixed, she stopped. When he was able to read fluently to himself, she selected for him passages from books, which she thought would excite his curiosity to know more; and she was not in a hurry to cram him with knowledge, but rather anxious to prevent his growing appetite for literature from being early satiated. She always encouraged him to talk to her freely about what he read, and to tell her when he did not like any of the books which she gave him. She conversed with him with so much kindness and cheerfulness; she was so quick at perceiving his latent meaning; and she was so gentle and patient when she reasoned with him, that he loved to talk to her better than to any body else; nor could little Charles ever thoroughly enjoy any pleasure without her sympathy.
The conversation of the sensible, well-informed people who visited Mrs. Howard contributed to form her nephew’s taste. A child may learn as much from conversation as from books — not so many historic facts, but as much instruction. Greek and Latin were the grand difficulties. Mrs. Howard did not understand Greek and Latin; nor did she, though a woman, set too high or too low a value upon the learned languages. She was convinced that a man might be a great scholar without being a man of sense; she was also persuaded that a man of sense might be a good scholar. She knew that, whatever abilities her nephew might possess, he could not be upon a footing with other men in the world, without possessing that species of knowledge which is universally expected from gentlemen, as an essential proof of their having received a liberal education; nor did she attempt to undervalue the pleasures of classic taste merely because she was not qualified to enjoy them: she was convinced, by the testimony of men of candour and judgment, that a classical taste is a source of real enjoyment, and she wished her nephew’s literary pleasures to have as extensive a range as possible.
To instruct her nephew in the learned languages, she engaged a good scholar and a man of sense: his name — for a man is nothing without a name — was Russell. Little Charles did not at first relish Latin; he used sometimes to come from his Latin lessons with a very dull, stupified face, which gradually brightened into intelligence, after he had talked for a few minutes with his aunt. Mrs. Howard, though pleased to perceive that he was fond of her, had not the weakness to sacrifice his permanent advantage to her transient gratification. One evening Charles came running up-stairs to his aunt, who was at tea; several people happened to be present. “I have done with Mr. Russell, and my Latin, ma’am, thank goodness — now may I have the elephant and the camel, or the bear and her cubs, that you marked for me
last night?”
The company laughed at this speech of Charles: and a silly lady — for even Mrs. Howard could not make all her acquaintance wise — a silly lady whispered to Charles, “I’ve a notion, if you’d tell the truth, now, that you like the bear and her cubs a great deal better than you do Latin and Mr. Russell.”
“I like the bear a great deal better than I do Latin, to be sure,” said the boy; “but as for Mr. Russell — why, I think,” added he, encouraged by the lady’s smiles, “I think I like the bear better than Mr. Russell.”
The lady laughed affectedly at this sally.
“I am sure,” continued Charles, fancying that every person present was delighted with his wit, “I am sure, at any rate, I like the learned pig fifty times better than Mr. Russell!”
The judicious lady burst into a second fit of laughter. Mrs. Howard looked very grave. Charles broke from the lady’s caresses, and going up to his aunt, timidly looking up in her face, said, “Am I a fool?”
“You are but a child,” said Mrs. Howard; and, turning away from him, she desired the servant, who waited at tea, to let Mr. Russell know that she desired the honour of his company. Mrs. Holloway — for that was the silly lady’s name — at the words, “honour of his company,” resumed her gravity, but looked round to see what the rest of the company thought.
“Give me leave, Mr. Russell,” said Mrs. Howard, as soon as he came into the room, “to introduce you to a gentleman, for whose works I know you have a great esteem.” The gentleman was a celebrated traveller, just returned from abroad, whose conversation was as much admired as his writings.
The conversation now took a literary turn. The traveller being polite, as well as entertaining, drew out Mr. Russell’s knowledge and abilities. Charles now looked up to his tutor with respect. Children have sufficient penetration to discover the opinions of others by their countenance and manner, and their sympathy is quickly influenced by the example of those around them. Mrs. Howard led the traveller to speak of what he had seen in different countries — of natural history — of the beaver, and the moose-deer, and the humming-bird, that is scarcely larger than a bumble bee; and the mocking-bird, that can imitate the notes of all other birds. Charles niched himself into a corner of the sofa upon which the gentlemen were sitting, and grew very attentive. He was rather surprised to perceive that his tutor was as much entertained with the conversation as he was himself.
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