“I am not surprised at these testimonies of admiration which burst from the warm hearts of his majesty’s subjects; I am only surprised that a heart could be found in his dominions on whom such magnanimity could make no impression. I am shocked, I am grieved, when I find such a heart in the person of Count Laniska. Can it be believed that, in the course of one short month after this generous pardon, that young nobleman proved himself the basest of traitors — a traitor to the king, who was his friend and benefactor? Daring no longer openly to attack, he attempted secretly to wound the fame of his sovereign. You all of you know what a degree of liberty, even licence, Frederick the Great permits to that species of satirical wit with which the populace delight to ridicule their rulers. At this instant there are various anonymous pasquinades on the garden-gates at Sans Souci, which would have provoked the resentment — the fatal resentment — of any other monarch upon earth. It cannot be doubted that the authors of these things could easily be discovered, if the king condescended to make any inquiries concerning them: it cannot be doubted that the king has power to punish the offenders: yet they remain untouched, perhaps unknown. Our sovereign is not capable of feeling the petty emotions of vulgar spleen or resentment; but he could not be insensible to the treacherous ingratitude of one, whom he imagined to have been attached to him by every tie of kindness and of duty. That the Count Laniska should choose the instant when the king was showing him unusual favour, to make that favour an instrument of his base malice, is scarcely credible. Yet, Prussians, incredible as it sounds to us, it is true. Here are my proofs: here are my witnesses.”
Mr. Warendorff, at this instant, uncovered the Prussian Vase, and then pointed to a Jew, and to the master of the porcelain manufactory, who stood beside him, ready to give their evidence. We omit that part of Mr. Warendorff’s speech which contained the facts that have been already related. The Prussian Vase was handed to the jury: the verses in praise of Frederick the Great were read, and the word tyrant was seen, afterward, with the utmost surprise. In the midst of the general indignation, Mr. Warendorff called upon the Jew to come forward and give his evidence. This Jew was an old man, and there was something remarkable in his looks. His head was still; his neck was stiff; but his eyes moved with incessant celerity from side to side, and he seemed uneasy at not being able to see what was passing behind him: there was a certain firmness in his attitude, but his voice trembled when he attempted to speak. All these circumstances prepossessed Laniska’s friends against the Jew the moment he appeared; and it was justly observed, that his having the misfortune to be a Jew was sufficient to prejudice many of the populace against him, even before a word he uttered reached their ears. But impartial spectators judged that the poor man was only terrified at being called upon to speak in so large an assembly. Solomon (for that was the name of the Jew), after having taken an oath upon the Talmud that he would speak nothing but the truth, made the following answers to the questions put to him by Mr. Warendorff: —
Mr. Warendorff.—”Did you ever see this vase before?”
Solomon.—”Yes.”
Mr. Warendorff.—”Where? when? Tell all you know about it to the gentlemen of the jury.”
Solomon.—”The first time I saw that vase was in the gallery of paintings, at the king’s palace of Sans Souci; to the best of my recollection, it was on the night of the first day of the month, about ten o’clock, or, perhaps, it might be eleven: I wish to be exact; but I cannot be certain as to the hour precisely.”
Mr. Warendorff.—”The exact hour is not of any consequence: proceed. Tell us how you came to see this vase. Take your time to speak. We are in no hurry: the truth will appear sooner or later.”
Solomon.—”His majesty himself put the vase into my hands, and commanded me to pack it up, with some other china, which he was going to send as a present to a gentleman at Paris. I am something of a judge of china myself, being used to selling small pieces of it up and down the town and country. So I was struck with the first sight of this beautiful vase; I looked at it very carefully, and wiped away, with my handkerchief, the dust which had settled on the white figures: here is the very handkerchief. I wiped the vase all over; but, when I came to rub the bottom, I stopped to read the verses on the character of Frederick the Great; and having read these, I rubbed the white letters quite clean: the ground on which they were written was blue. I found that some of the blue colour came off upon my handkerchief, which surprised me a good deal. Upon examining further, I perceived that the colour came off only in one spot, of about an inch long, and half an inch broad. The king was at this time standing with his back to me, looking at a new picture which had just been hung up in the gallery; but hearing me make an exclamation (‘Father Abraham!’ I believe it was that I said), his majesty turned round. ‘What is the matter with you, Solomon? You look wondrous wise,’ his majesty was pleased to say. ‘Why do you call on Father Abraham at this time of day? Do you expect that he will help you to pack up that china — hey, Solomon, my friend?’ I had no power to answer this question, for by this time, to my utter astonishment, I had discovered that, on the spot where I had rubbed off the blue paint, there was a word written — the word was tyrant. ‘On the character of Frederick, the great tyrant!’ Said I to myself—’what can this mean?’ The king snatched the vase from my hands, read what I had read, saw the paint which had been rubbed off upon my handkerchief, and without saying one word left the gallery. This is all I know about the matter.”
The Jew bowed to the court, and Mr. Warendorff told him that, having closed his evidence, he might depart. But Albert rose to desire that the judge would order him to remain in court, as he purposed to examine, or, according to the English term, to cross-examine him further, at a proper time. The judge ordered the Jew to remain in court. The next witness called, on the part of the crown, was the master of the porcelain manufactory of Berlin; to whom Mr. Warendorff put the following questions: —
Q.—”Have you seen the verses which are inscribed on the foot of this vase?”
Answer.—”Yes, I have.”
Q.—”Do you recollect what words are written over the verses?”
Answer.—”I do: the words are—’On the character of Frederick, the great tyrant.’”
Q.—”Do you know by whom those words and these verses were written?”
Answer.—”I believe that they were written by Count Augustus Laniska.”
Q.—”How do you know? or why do you believe it?”
Answer.—”I was present when Sophia Mansfeld, the woman by whom the vase was designed, told the count that she did not know how to write, and that she would be obliged to him if he would write the inscription himself on it. The vase at this time had not been put into the furnace. It was in what we call biscuit. The Count Laniska took a proper tool, and said that he would write the inscription as she desired. I saw him writing on the bottom of the vase for some minutes. I heard him afterward call to one of the workmen, and desire that he would put the vase into the furnace: the workman accordingly carried it into the next room to the furnace, as I believe.”
Q.—”Did you see the inscription on the vase after it was taken out of the furnace? and was the word ‘tyrant’ then on it?”
Answer.—”I did not see the vase immediately upon its being taken out of the furnace; but I saw it about an hour afterward. At that time I read the inscription: the word ‘tyrant’ was not then visible on the vase; the place where it now appears was blue. I carried it myself, along with some others, to the king’s palace at Sans Souci. The night of the first day of this month his majesty sent for me, and showed me the word tyrant on the vase: I had never seen it there till then. It could not have been written after the china was baked: it must have been written whilst the biscuit was soft; and it must have been covered over with the blue paint after the vase was taken out of the furnace. I believe the word was written by Count Laniska, because I saw nobody else write upon the vase hut him; because the word exactly resembles the handwriting of the
rest of the inscription; and because I, upon a former occasion, heard the count make use of that very word in speaking of Frederick the Great.”
Here the master of the porcelain manufactory finished speaking, and was going, with Mr. Warendorff’s permission, to retire; but Albert signified his intention to cross-examine him also, and the judge commanded that he should remain in court. The two next witnesses who were produced and examined were the workman who carried the vase to the furnace, and the man whose business it was to put the biscuit into the furnace. Neither of these witnesses could write or read. The workman deposed, that he carried the Prussian Vase, as he was desired, to the furnace; that no one touched it on the way thither. The man whose business it was to put the biscuit into the furnace swore that he put it along with several other vases into the furnace; that he attended the fire, and that no one touched any of them till they were baked and taken out by him. Here the evidence for the prosecution closed. Mr. Warendorff observed, that he should forbear to expatiate further upon the conduct of the prisoner; that he had been ordered by his sovereign to speak of him with all possible moderation; that he earnestly hoped the defence that should be made for Count Laniska might be satisfactory; and that the mode of trial which had been granted to him by the king was a sufficient proof of the clemency of his majesty, and of his earnest desire to allow the prisoner every possible means of re-establishing his character in the eyes of the public. Albert now rose. The Count Laniska, who had appeared unmoved during Mr. Warendorff’s oration, changed countenance the moment Albert rose in his defence; the Countess Laniska leaned forward over the rails of the gallery in breathless anxiety: there was no sound heard in the whole gallery, except the jingling of the chain of the king’s sword, with which he was playing.
“I shall not attempt, gentlemen,” said Albert, “to move your sympathy by a pathetic description of my own feelings as a man, and as an advocate. Whatever mine may be, it is my wish and my duty to repress them. I have need of that calm possession of my understanding, which will be necessary to convince yours of the innocence of my friend. To convince is my object. If it were in my power, I should, upon the present occasion, disdain to persuade. I should think it equally incompatible with my own honour and that of the Count Laniska. With these sentiments, I refrain, Prussians, from all eulogium upon the magnanimity of your king. Praises from a traitor, or from the advocate of a traitor, must be unworthy of a great monarch, or of a generous people. If the prisoner before you shall be proved to be no traitor, he will doubtless have opportunities of expressing by actions, better than I can by words, his gratitude to his sovereign, for having allowed him this public trial by his equals — men who are able to discern and to assert the truth. It cannot have escaped their observation, that no positive evidence whatever has yet been produced against the prisoner. No one has yet been heard to swear that he saw Count Laniska write the word tyrant upon this vase. The first witness, Solomon the Jew, has informed us of what our senses could not leave us room to doubt, that the word is actually engraved upon the porcelain: further, he has told us that it was covered over with blue paint, which he rubbed off with his handkerchief. All this may be true; but the wisdom of Solomon, united to that of Baron Warendorff, has failed to point out to us any certain connexion between this blue paint, this handkerchief, and the supposed guilt of the Count Laniska. The master of the porcelain manufactory came next, and I apprehended that, as being a more respectable witness than the Jew, it was reserved for him to supply this link in the chain of evidence. But this respectable witness simply swore, that he heard a woman say she could not write or read; that she asked Count Laniska to write an inscription upon a vase for her; that, in consequence of this request, the count wrote something upon the vase, he does not pretend to know what; but he believes that the word tyrant must have been one of the words then written by the count, because he saw no one else write on the vase; because the hand-writing of that word resembles the rest of the inscription; and because the count, in his hearing, had, upon a former occasion, made use of the same expression in speaking of the king. I recapitulate this evidence, to show that it is in no part positive: that it all rests upon circumstances. In order to demonstrate to you that the word in question could not have been written by any person but Laniska, two witnesses are produced — the workman who carried the vase to the furnace, and he who put it into the fire. The one has positively sworn that no person touched the vase on the way to the furnace. The other as positively swears that no one meddled with the vase after it was put into the furnace.
“It is granted that the word could not have been engraved after the biscuit was baked. The witness, however, has not sworn, or asserted, that there was no interval of time between his receiving the vase and his putting it into the fire. What became of it during this interval? How long did it last? Will the witness swear that no one touched it during this interval?
“These are questions which I shall put to him presently. I hope I have established my first assertion, that you have no positive evidence of the prisoner’s guilt.
“You well know, gentlemen, that where positive evidence of any supposed fact cannot be produced, our judgments must be decided by the balance of probabilities; and it is for this reason that the study of probabilities, and the power of comparing them, has, in a late celebrated essay, been called the Science of Judges. To you, judges of my friend, all the probabilities of his supposed guilt have been stated. Weigh and compare them with those which I shall produce in favour of his innocence. His education, his character, his understanding, are all in his favour. The Count Laniska must be much below the common standard of human virtue and capacity, if, without any assignable motive, he could have committed an action at once so base and so absurd as this of which he is accused. His temper is naturally or habitually open and impetuous, even to extreme imprudence. An instance of this imprudence, and of the manner in which it was pardoned by the king, has been stated to you. Is it probable that the same man should be both ingenuous and mean? Is it probable that the generosity with which he was treated made no impression upon his heart? His heart must, upon this supposition, be selfish and unfeeling. Look up, gentlemen, towards that gallery — look at that anxious mother! those eager friends! Could Laniska’s fate excite such anxiety, if he were selfish and unfeeling? Impossible! But, suppose him destitute of every generous sentiment, you cannot imagine Count Laniska to be a fool. You have been lately reminded that he was early distinguished for his abilities by a monarch, whose penetration we cannot doubt. He was high in the favour of his sovereign: just entering upon life — a military life; his hopes of distinction resting entirely upon the good opinion of his general and his king: all these fair expectations he sacrifices — for what? for the pleasure — but it could be no pleasure — for the folly of writing a single word. Unless the Count Laniska be supposed to have been possessed with an insane desire of writing the word tyrant, how can we account for his writing it upon this vase? Did he wish to convey to France the idea, that Frederick the Great is a tyrant? A man of common sense could surely have found, at least, safer methods of doing so than by engraving it as his opinion upon a vase which he knew was to pass through the hands of the sovereign whom he purposed thus treacherously to insult. The extreme improbability that any man in the situation, with the character, habits, and capacity of Count Laniska, should have acted in this manner amounts, in my judgment, almost to a moral impossibility. I knew nothing more, gentlemen, of this cause, when I first offered to defend Laniska at the hazard of my liberty: it was not merely from the enthusiasm of friendship that I made this offer; it was from the sober conviction of my understanding, founded upon the accurate calculation of moral probabilities.
“It has been my good fortune, gentlemen, in the course of the inquiries which I have since made, to obtain further confirmation of my opinion. Without attempting any of that species of oratory which may be necessary to cover falsehood, but which would encumber instead of adorning truth, I shall now, in the simplest
manner in my power, lay the evidence before the court.”
The first witness Albert called was the workman who carried the vase to the man at the furnace. Upon his cross-examination, he said that he did not deliver the vase into the hands of the man at the furnace, but that he put it, along with several other pieces, upon a tray, on a table, which stood near the furnace.
Albert.—”You are certain that you put it upon a tray?”
Witness.—”Quite certain.”
Albert.—”What reason have you for remembering that circumstance particularly?”
Witness.—”I remember it, because I at first set this vase upon the ledge of the tray, and it was nearly falling. I was frightened at that accident, which makes me particularly remember the thing. I made room upon the tray for the vase, and left it quite safe upon the tray: I am positive of it.”
Albert.—”That is all I want with you, my good friend.”
The next witness called was the man whose business it was to put the vases into the furnace.
Albert.—”Did you see the witness who was last examined put this vase upon a tray when he left it under your care?”
Witness.—”I did.”
Albert.—”You are certain that he put it upon the tray? What reason have you to remember that circumstance particularly?”
Witness.—”I remember it, because I heard the witness cry out, ‘There, William, I had like to have thrown down this cursed vase; but, look you here, I’ve left it quite safe upon the tray.’ Upon this, I turned and looked, and saw that vase standing upon the tray, safe, with some others.”
Albert.—”Do you recollect any thing else that passed?”
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 371
