The Chief Justice: A Novel

INTRODUCTION

The remote Austrian province of Galicia has, in our generation, produced two of the most original of modern novelists, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch and Karl Emil Franzos. The latter, who is the author of the volume here presented to English readers, was born on the 25th of October 1848, just over the frontier, in a ranger's house in the midst of one of the vast forests of Russian Podolia. His father, a Polish Jew, was the district doctor of the town of Czorskow, in Galicia, where the boy received his first lessons in literature from his German mother. In 1858 Franzos was sent, on the death of his father, to the German College at Czernowitz; at the age of fourteen, according to the published accounts of his life, he was left entirely to his own resources, and gained a precarious livelihood by teaching. After various attempts at making a path for himself in science and in law, and finding that his being a Jew stood in the way of a professional career, he turned, as so many German Israelites have done before and since, to journalism, first in Vienna, then at Pesth, then in Vienna again, where he still continues to reside.

In 1876 Franzos published his first book, two volumes entitled Aus Halb-Asia ("From Semi-Asia"), a series of ethnological studies on the peoples of Galicia, Bukowina, South Russia, and Roumania, whom he described as in a twilight of semi-barbaric darkness, not wholly in the sunshine of Europe. This was followed in 1878 by Vom Don zur Donau ("From the Don to the Danube"), a similar series of studies in ethnography. Meanwhile, in Die Juden von Barnow ("The Jews of Barnow"), 1877, he had published his first collection of tales drawn from his early experience. He followed it in 1879 by Junge Liebe ("Young Love"), two short stories, "Brown Rosa" and "Brandenegg's Cousins," extremely romantic in character, and written in an elaborate and somewhat extravagant style. These volumes achieved a great and instant success.

The succeeding novels of Franzos have been numerous, and unequal in value. Moschko von Parma, 1880, was a pathetic study of the vicissitudes of a young Jewish soldier in the wars. In the same year Franzos published Die Hexe ("The Witch"). The best known of his writings in this country is Ein Kampf um's Recht ("A Battle for the Right"), 1882, which was published in English, with an Introduction by Mr. George MacDonald, and attracted the favourable, and even enthusiastic, notice of Mr. Gladstone. Der Präsident, which is here translated, appeared in Germany in 1884.

CHAPTER I

In the Higher Court of Bolosch, an important Germano-Slavonic town of northern Austria, there sat as Chief Justice some thirty years ago, one of the bravest and best of those men on whom true justice might hopefully rely in that sorely tried land.

Charles Victor, Baron von Sendlingen, as he may be called in this record of his fate, was the last descendant of a very ancient and meritorious race which could trace its origin to a collateral branch of the Franconian Emperors, and which had once upon a time possessed rich lands and mines on the shores of the Wörther See: now indeed by reason of an adverse fate and the love of splendour of some of its scions, there had gradually come to be nothing left of all this save a series of high sounding titles. But the decline of fame and influence had not kept pace with the loss of lands and wealth; the Sendlingens had entered the service of the Hapsburgs and in the last two hundred years had given the Austrian Hereditary Dominions not only several brave generals, but an almost unbroken line of administrators and guardians of Justice. And so, although they were entirely dependent on their slender official salaries, they were reckoned with good reason among the first families of the Empire, and a Sendlingen might from his cradle count upon the office of Chief Justice of one of the Higher Courts. Even unkind envy, to say nothing of honest report, was obliged to admit that these hereditary patricians of Justice had always shown themselves worthy of their sacred office, and just as they regularly inherited certain physical characteristics-great stature, bright eyes and coal-black curly hair-so also gifted intellects, iron industry and a sense of duty which often enough bordered on self-denial, were always theirs. "The majesty of the Law is the most sacred majesty on earth." Thus spake the first of this family who had entered the service of the Imperial Courts of Justice, the Baron Victor Amadeus, Chief Judge of the Vienna Senate, in answer to an irregular demand of Ferdinand the Catholic, and his descendants held fast to the maxim in good days and evil, even in those worst days when Themis threatened, in this country also, to sink to the level of the venal mistress of Princes. The greatest of the Hapsburgs, Joseph II., knew how to value this at its right worth, and although he much disliked hereditary offices, he on this account appointed the Baron Charles Victor, in spite of his youth, as his father's successor in one of the most important offices of the State.

This was the grandfather of that Sendlingen whose story is to be told here, a powerful man of unusual strength of will who had again raised the reputation of the family to a most flourishing condition. But although everything went so well with him, the dearest wish of his heart was not to be realized: he was not to transmit office and reputation to his son. This son, Franz Victor, our hero's father, had to pass his life wretchedly in an insignificant position, the only one among the Sendlingens who went to his grave in mature years, unrenowned and indeed despised.

This fate had not overtaken him through lack of ability or industry. He too proved himself a true son of this admirable race; gifted, persevering, thorough, devoted heart and soul to his studies and his official duties. But a youthful escapade had embroiled him in the beginning of his career with father and relations: a girl of the lower orders, the daughter of the concierge at the Courts where his father presided, had become dear to him and in a moment of passion he had betrayed her. When the girl could no longer conceal the consequences of her fault, she went and threw herself at the feet of the Chief Justice imploring him to protect her from her parent's wrath. The old man could hardly contain his agony of indignation, but he summoned his son and having heard from his lips the truth of the accusation, he resolved the matter by saying: "The wedding will take place next Sunday. A Sendlingen may be thoughtless, he must never be a scoundrel." They were married without show and in complete secresy, and at once started for a little spot in the Tyrolean mountains whither Baron von Sendlingen had caused his son and heir to be transferred.

This event made a tremendous sensation. For the first time a Sendlingen had married out of his rank, the daughter of a menial too, and constrained to it by his father! People hardly knew how to decide which of the two, father or son, had sinned most against the dignity of the family; similar affairs were usually settled by the nobles of the land in all secresy and without leaving a stain on their genealogical tree. Even Kaiser Franz, although his opinions about morality were so rigid, once signified something of the kind to the honourable old judge, but he received the same answer as was given to his son. The embittered old man was indeed equally steadfast in maintaining a complete severance of the bonds between him and his only son; the letters which every mail from the Tyrol brought, were left unopened, and even in his last illness he would not suffer the outcast to be recalled.

After the death of the Judge, his son came to be completely forgotten: only occasionally his aristocratic relations used to recount with a shrug of the shoulders, that they had again been obliged to return a letter of this insolent fellow to the place where it came from. Nevertheless they learnt the contents of these letters from a good-natured old aunt: they told of the death of his first child, then of the birth of a boy whom he had called after his grandfather, and while he obstinately kept silence about the happiness or unhappiness of his marriage, he more and more urgently begged for deliverance from the God-forsaken corner of the globe in which he languished and for promotion to a worthier post.

Although the only person who read these letters was, with all her pity, unable to help him, he never grew weary of writing. The tone of his letters became year by year more bitter and despairing, and whereas he had at first asked for special favours, he now fiercely demanded the cessation of these hostile intrigues. Perhaps the embittered man was unjust to his relations in making this reproach, – they seemed in no way to concern themselves about him whether to his interest or his injury-, but he really was badly treated, and leaving out the influence of his name, he was not even able to obtain what he might have expected according to the regulations of the service. An excellent judge of exemplary industry, he was forced to continue for years in this Tyrolean wilderness until at length, one day, he was promoted to a judgeship on the Klagenfurth Circuit. But he was not long able to enjoy his improved position: bitter repentance and the struggle with wretchedness had prematurely undermined his strength. He died, soon after his wife, and his last concern on earth was an imploring prayer to his relations to adopt his boy.

This prayer would perhaps not have been necessary to secure the orphan that sympathy which his much-to-be-pitied father had in vain sought to obtain for himself. Charles Victor, now fourteen years of age, was carried off in a sort of triumph and brought to Vienna: even the Emperor gratefully remembered the faithful services which this noble house had for centuries rendered to his throne, and he caused its last surviving male to be educated at his expense in the Academy of Maria Theresa.

The beautiful, slender boy won the sympathies of his natural guardians by his mere appearance, the serious expression peculiar to his family and his surprising resemblance to his grandfather; excellent gifts, a quiet, steady love of work and a self-contained, manly sweetness of disposition, made him dear to both his masters and his comrades. He was the best scholar at the Academy, and he justified the hopes which he had aroused by the brilliant success of his legal studies. But his eagerness to obtain a knowledge of the world and to see foreign countries was equally great, and the modest fortune left him by his grandfather made the fulfilment of these desires possible. When, being of age, he returned to Austria and entered on his legal duties, it needed no particular insight to prophesy a rapid advancement in his career.

In fact after a brief term of office as judge-advocate in the Eastern provinces, he was transferred to Bohemia, and shortly afterwards married a beautiful, proud girl who had been much sought after, a daughter of one of the most important Counts of the Empire. Nobody was surprised that the lucky man had also this good luck, but the marriage remained childless. This only served to unite the stately pair more closely to one another, and this wedded love and the judge's triumphs on the Bench and in the world of letters, sufficed to fully occupy his life. His treatises on criminal law were among the best of the kind, and the practical nature of his judgments obtained for him the reputation of one of the most thorough and sagacious judges of Austria. And so it was more owing to his services than to the influence attached to the name and associations of this remarkable man, that he succeeded in scaling by leaps and bounds that ladder of advancement on the lowest rung of which, his unfortunate father had remained in life-long torture. As early as in his fortieth year he had obtained the important and honourable position of Chief Justice of Bolosch.

The stormy times in which he lived served as a good test of his character and abilities. The fierce flames of 1848 had been extinguished and from the ruins rose the exhalation of countless political trials. Those were sad days, making the strongest demands on the independence of a Judge, and many an honest but weak man became the compliant servant of the Authorities. The Chief Justice von Sendlingen, a member of the oldest nobility, bound to the Imperial House by ties of personal gratitude, related by marriage to the leaders of the reaction, was nevertheless not one of the weak and cowardly judges; just as in that stormy year he had boldly confessed his loyalty to the Emperor, so now he showed that Justice was not to be abased to an instrument of political revenge. This boldness was indeed not without danger; his brother-in-law stormed, his wife was in tears; first warnings, then threats, rained in upon him, but he kept his course unmoved, acting as his sense of justice bade him. If those in authority did not actually interfere with him, he owed this entirely to his past services, which had made him almost indispensable. The methods of administering justice were constantly changed, juries were empanelled and then dismissed, the regulations of the Courts were repeatedly altered: everywhere there were cases in arrear, and confusion and uncertainty.

The Bolosch Circuit was one of the few exceptions. The Chief Justice remained unmolested by the ministry, and the citizens honoured him as the embodiment of Justice, and lawyers as the ornament of their profession.

Respected throughout the whole Empire, he was in his immediate circle the object of almost idolatrous love. And certainly the personal characteristics of this stately and serious man with his almost youthful beauty, were enough to justify this feeling. He was gentle but determined; dignified but affectionate: faithful in the extreme to duty, and yet no stickler for forms.

When his wife died suddenly in 1850, the sympathetic love and veneration of all were manifested in the most touching manner. He felt the loss keenly, but only his best friend, Dr. George Berger, learnt how deep was the wound. This Dr. Berger was one of the most respected barristers of the town, and in spite of the difference of their political convictions-Berger was a Radical-he enjoyed an almost fraternal intimacy with Sendlingen. This faithful friend did what he could for the lonely Judge; and his best helper in the work of sympathy was his sense of duty which forbade a weak surrender to sorrow. He gradually became quiet and composed again, and some premature grey hairs at the temples alone showed how exceedingly he had suffered.

In the midst of the regular work of his profession-it was in May, 1850-he was surprised by a laconic command from the Minister of Justice ordering him forthwith to surrender the conduct of his Court to the Judge next him in position, von Werner, and to be in Vienna within three days. This news caused general amazement; the reactionary party was growing stronger, and it was thought that this sudden call might mean the commencement of an inquiry into the conduct of this true but independent Judge. He himself was prepared for the worst, but his friend Berger took a more hopeful view; rudeness, he said, had become the fashion again in Vienna, and perhaps something good was in store for him.

This supposition proved correct; the Minister wished the assistance of the learned specialist in drawing up a new Statute for the administration of Justice. The Commission of Inquiry, originally called for two months, continued its deliberations till the autumn. It was not till the beginning of November that Sendlingen started for home, having received as a mark of the Minister's gratitude the nomination as Chief Justice of the Higher Court at Pfalicz, a post which he was to enter upon in four months.

This was a brilliant and unexampled appointment for one of his years, but the thought of leaving the much-loved circle of his labours made him sorrowful. And this feeling was increased when the citizens testified by a public reception at the station, how greatly they were rejoiced at his return. His lonely dwelling too had been decorated by a friendly hand, as also the Courts of Justice. He found it difficult to announce his departure in answer to the speech of welcome delivered by his Deputy. And indeed his announcement was received with exclamations of regret and amazement, and it was only by degrees that his auditors sufficiently recovered themselves to congratulate their beloved chief.

Only one of them did so with a really happy heart, his Deputy, von Werner, an old, industrious if not very gifted official, who now likewise saw a certain hope of promotion. With a pleased smile, the little weazened man followed Sendlingen into his chambers in order to give him an account of the judicial proceedings of the last six months. Herr von Werner was a sworn enemy of all oral reports, and had therefore not only prepared two beautifully drawn-up lists of the civil and criminal trials, but had written a memorial which he now read out by way of introduction.

Sendlingen listened patiently to this lengthy document. But when Werner was going to take up the lists with the same intention, the Chief Justice with a pleasant smile anticipated him.

"We will look through them together," he said, and began with the criminal list. It contained the name, age and calling of the accused, the date of their gaol-delivery, their crime, as well as the present position of the trial.

"There are more arrears than I expected," he said with some surprise.

"But the number of crimes has unfortunately greatly increased," objected Herr von Werner, zealously. "Especially the cases of child-murder."

"You are right." Sendlingen glanced through the columns specifying the crimes and then remained plunged in deep thought.

"The number is nearly double," he resumed. "And it is not only here, but in the whole Empire, that this horrible phenomenon is evident! The Minister of Justice complained of it to me with much concern."

"But what else could one expect?" cried old Werner. "This accursed Revolution has undermined all discipline, morals and religion! And then the leniency with which these inhuman women are treated-why it is years since the death-sentence has been carried out in a case of child-murder."

"That will unfortunately soon be changed," answered Sendlingen in a troubled tone. "The Minister of Justice thinks as you do, and would like an immediate example to be made. It is unfortunate, I repeat, and not only because, from principle, I am an opponent of the theory of deterring by fear. Of all social evils this can least of all be cured by the hangman. And if it is so rank nowadays, I do not think the reason is to be found where you and His Excellency seek it, but in the sudden impoverishment, the uncertainty of circumstances and the brutality which, everywhere and always, follow upon a great war. The true physicians are the political economist, the priest and the schoolmaster!.. Or have you ever perhaps known of a case among educated people?"

"Oh certainly!" answered Herr von Werner importantly. "I have, as it happens, to preside to-morrow, – that is to say unless you will take the case-at the conclusion of a trial against a criminal of that class; at least she must be well-educated as she was governess in the house of a Countess. See here-Case No. 19 on the list." He pointed with his finger to the place.

Then a dreadful thing happened. Hardly had Sendlingen glanced at the name which Werner indicated, than he uttered a hollow choking cry, a cry of deadly anguish. His face was livid, his features were distorted by an expression of unutterable terror, his eyes started out of their sockets and stared in a sort of fascination at the list before him.

"Great Heavens!" cried Werner, himself much alarmed, as he seized his chief's hand. "What is the matter with you? Do you know this girl?"

Sendlingen made no reply. He closed his eyes, rested both arms on the table and tried to rise. But his limbs refused to support him, and he sank down in his chair like one in a faint.

"Water! Help!" cried Werner, making for the bell.

A movement of Sendlingen's stopped him. "It is nothing," he gasped with white lips and parched throat. "An attack of my heart disease. It has lately-become-much worse."

"Oh!" cried Werner with genuine sympathy. "I never even suspected this before. Everybody thought you were in the best of health. What do the doctors say?"

Again there was no answer. Breathing with difficulty, livid, his head sunk on his breast, his eyes closed, Sendlingen lay back in his chair. And when he raised his eyelids Werner met such a hopeless, despairing look, that the old gentleman involuntarily started back.

"May I," he began timidly, "call a doctor-"

"No!" Sendlingen's refusal was almost angry. Again he attempted to rise and this time he succeeded.

"Thank you," he said feebly. "I must have frightened you. I am better now and shall soon be quite well."

"But you are going home?" "Why should I? I will rest in this comfortable chair for half an hour and then, my dear colleague, I shall be quite at your service again."

The old gentleman departed but not without hesitation: even he was really attached to Sendlingen. The other officials also received the news of this attack with genuine regret, especially as Werner several times repeated in his important manner:

"Any external cause is quite out of the question, gentlemen, quite out of the question. We were just quietly talking about judicial matters. Ah, heart disease is treacherous, gentlemen, very treacherous."

Hardly had the door closed, when Sendlingen sank down in his chair, drew the lists towards him and again stared at that particular spot with a look on his face as if his sentence of death was written there.

The entry read thus: "Victorine Lippert. Born 25th January 1834 at Radautz in the Bukowina. Governess. Child-murder. Transferred here from the District Court at Gölotz on the 17th June 1852. Confessed. Trial to be concluded 8th November 1852."

The column headed "sentence" was still empty.

"Death!" he muttered. "Death!" he repeated, loud and shrill, and a shudder ran through his every fibre.

He sank back and hid his face which had suddenly become wasted.

"O my God!" he groaned. "I dare not let her die-her blood would cry out against me, against me only."

And he drew the paper towards him again and stared at the entry, piteously and beseechingly, as though he expected a miracle from Heaven, as though the letters must change beneath the intensity of his gaze.

The mid-day bells of the neighbouring cathedral aroused him from his gloomy brooding. He rose, smoothed his disarranged hair, forced on his accustomed look of quiet, and betook himself to Werner's room.

"You see," he said. "I have kept my word and am all right again. Are there any pressing matters to be rid of?"

"Only one," answered Werner. "The Committee of Discipline has waited your return, as it did not wish to decide an important case without you."

"Good, summon the Committee for five o'clock today."

He now went the round of the other offices, answered the anxious inquiries with the assurance that he was quite well again, and then went down a long corridor to his own quarters which were in another wing of the large building.

His step was still elastic, his face pale but almost cheerful. Not until he had given his servant orders to admit nobody, not even his friend Berger, and until he had bolted his study-door, did he sink down and then give himself up, without restraint, to the fury of a wild, despairing agony.

CHAPTER II

For an hour or more the unhappy man lay groaning, and writhing like a worm under the intensity of his wretchedness. Then he rose and with unsteady gait went to his secretaire, and began to rummage in the secret drawers of the old-fashioned piece of furniture.

"I no longer remember where it is," he muttered to himself. "It is long since I thought of the old story-but God has not forgotten it."

At length he discovered what he was looking for: a small packet of letters grown yellow with time. As he unloosed the string which tied them, a small watercolour portrait in a narrow silver frame fell out: it depicted the gentle, sweet features of a young, fair, grey-eyed girl. His eyes grew moist as he looked at it, and bitter tears suddenly coursed down his cheeks.