Chapter V. - THE ORDER OF THE KING.

Joseph Fredersdorf was quite right in saying that the professors awaited the decision of the General Assembly with proud confidence. It did not occur to them that it might be unfavorable to their wishes. A public disturbance had arisen between the students, occasioned by a performance in the theatre; this was a sufficient cause for the banishment of the actors. An account of the riot had been already forwarded by the Senate of the University to the General Assembly, and the worthy gentlemen who composed this body did not doubt the fulfilment of their request, that the actors should be removed from Halle.

President Franke received with the utmost composure the official dispatch, containing the decision of the General Assembly, and called an immediate meeting of the Senate for its perusal. Whilst awaiting the opening of the meeting, Professor Heinrich was expressing to his friend, Professor Bierman, his impatience to know the contents of this dispatch.

„I am not at all impatient,“ replied Bierman. „I am convinced the decision will be perfectly satisfactory to us; in fact, that it commands the departure of these actors from our city.“

„Have you no doubts? Do you not fear that the king, in his hatred for the theologians, and his admiration for these comedians, may decide in their favor rather than in ours?“

„Dear friend, such a doubt would be unworthy the dignity of our position. The king, seeing that the matter has gone so far, must decide in our favor. And here is our worthy president; look at his proud and cheerful aspect, and judge whether the document he holds in his hand can be unfavorable.“

„He does, indeed, seem contented,“ answered Professor Heinrich, as he and his friend moved forward to meet the president.

With great solemnity the senators proceeded to take their seats in the arm-chairs which encircled a high table standing in the centre of the room.

After a moment's silence the president addressed them: „Worthy friends and colleagues, I have to announce to you that the hour has at length arrived which is to end all the doubts and cares that have oppressed our hearts for many months. We have had a bitter struggle; we have striven to preserve the honor of our university and the well-being of the youth committed to our care. The men who work with such noble motives must eventually triumph.“

„The decision is, then, in our favor?“ asked Professor Heinrich, no longer able to subdue his impatient curiosity. „Your excellency has already read the dispatch of the General Assembly, and are acquainted with its contents.“

„I have not read it, and I do not know its contents. But I rely upon our worthy cause, and the king's sense of justice. These comedians were the occasion of a public disturbance--it is, therefore, proper that they should be punished. As justice is on our side, I cannot doubt the result. I have not read this dispatch, for I considered it more in accordance with the dignity of this body that the seal should be broken in your presence, and I now beg that you, Professor Bierman, as the secretary of the Senate, will read to us this dispatch from the General Assembly.“

As Bierman broke the seal, all eyes were turned on him, and in this moment of expectation the professors were aware that their hearts beat louder and more rapidly. Suddenly Professor Bierman uttered a cry, a cry of horror, which awakened an echo in every breast.

„Proceed,“ commanded the president, with stony composure.

„I cannot,“ murmured Bierman, as he sank back powerless in his chair.

„Then I will read it myself,“ cried Professor Heinrich, forgetting all other considerations in his determination to satisfy his curiosity. „I will read it,“ he repeated, as he took the paper from the trembling hands of his friend.

„Read,“ said the president, in a low voice.

Professor Heinrich then proceeded to read aloud the following dispatch sent by the General Assembly to the Senate of the University at Halle.

„We find it most unworthy that you, in your complaint against the comedians now in Halle, should endeavor to cast on them the blame of the late disturbance in the theatre. We are well aware of the cause of this disturbance, and now declare that the actors shall not be banished from Halle.“

A fearful pause followed this reading. The president perceived that Heinrich was still looking at the paper he held.

„Is that all? Have you finished the dispatch?“

„No, your excellency; there is a note on the margin, in the writing of the king.“

„Read it aloud.“

„Your excellency, the king has made use of some expressions that I cannot bring my lips to utter.“

„The king is our master; we must hear what he has to say in all humility.“

„You command me, then, to proceed?“

„I command it.“

„'This pack of theologians have caused the whole difficulty. The actors shall continue to play, and Mr. Franke, or whatever else the scamp calls himself, shall make public reparation, by visiting the theatre; and I must receive information from the actors themselves that he has done so.'„

A murmur of horror succeeded the reading of this order. Only President Franke maintained his erect position, and continued looking straight before him at Professor Heinrich, who had just dropped the fatal paper.

„Is that all?“ asked the president.

„It is, your excellency.“

He bowed gravely, and, rising from his chair, glanced slowly from one face to another. The senators cast down their eyes before this glance, not from fear or shame, but from terror at the fearful expression of the president's countenance.

„If that is all, it is time for me to go,“ he said solemnly, as he pushed his chair back, and slowly and stiffly walked forward, like an automaton which has been set in motion by machinery.

„This has affected his brain. He will have a paralytic stroke,“ murmured the senators to one another.

The president did not hear them, nor did he seem to know what he wished. He was now standing motionless a few steps from the table.

The professors were terrified at this spectacle, and only Heinrich had the courage to advance to his side and ask--“Where do you wish to go, my dear friend?“

„I wish to obey the command of the king--I am going to the theatre,“ he replied, with a cry of despair, and then fell fainting into the arms of his friend.

Professor Bierman instantly summoned assistance, and the insensible form of the president was borne from the room, and a messenger sent for a physician.

When the professors had become somewhat composed, Bierman announced to them that he had a proposition to make which he hoped would meet with their approval.

„You doubtless agree with me, my friends, in saying that this cruel sentence of the king must not be carried out. Our friend the president would not suffer alone in its fulfilment--the honor of the university would receive an irreparable wound. We must employ every effort to alter this decision. It is, in my opinion, fortunate that our worthy friend has sunk for the time beneath this blow. His illness relieves him from the necessity of an immediate appearance in the theatre; and, whether ill or not, he must remain in his bed until the king can be induced to alter his sentence. We will prepare a petition and send it immediately to the king.“

The proposal of Bierman met with entire approval; and the petition was prepared, signed by all the professors, and sent to Berlin by one of their number. The king, however, declined to receive him, and his only answer was that in eight days the Senate would be made acquainted with his final decision.

The professors convinced themselves that there was comfort in this answer. The king evidently did not intend to insist on the execution of the first sentence, or he would simply have ordered its fulfilment.

The professors were hopeful, and no longer opposed the nightly visits of the students to the theatre. A few of them determined to visit the theatre themselves, and see this Eckhof who had caused them so much sorrow and trouble. The students were delighted at this concession, and considered the professors the most enlightened and unprejudiced of the whole body. To show their apreciation of this, they attended their lectures on the following day.

This unexpected result made the other professors falter in their determination. Their temporal good depended very much on the attendance of the students upon their lectures. They found that they must consent to listen to Eckhof and his companions, if they would be heard themselves; and, at length, they determined to make peace with the students and actors, and to visit the theatre.

Peace was now proclaimed, and Eckhof, whose noble and tender heart was filled with joy and gratitude, played „Britannicus“ with such power and feeling that he even won applause from the professors.

President Franke was still confined to his room. The terror of a forced visit to the theatre, which would be known as an expiation for his fault, made his nights sleepless and his days most wretched.

At length, however, the answer to the petition arrived, and, to his great relief, he found himself condemned to pay a fine of twenty thalers to the almshouse of Halle; and no further mention was made of his visit to the theatre.